Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHLOE
An ear-splitting howl erupts from the kitchen. I sprint from my office to find Mrs. Nelson bent over, clutching her hand to her chest. “What happened?” I gasp.
Sweat beads on her brow as she grimaces. “Burned my damn arm on the edge of the grill.”
Shit. The closer I get to her, the lower my stomach sinks. The skin from her wrist to her elbow looks red-raw.
I hurry to find the first aid kit, grabbing the burn spray to take away the sting. I’m pretty sure she’s going to be fine, but I want to be certain.
“Willow!” I shout. My friend sticks her head into the kitchen, her eyes bulging when she sees us. “Mrs. Nelson accidentally burned herself. Can you take her to urgent care?”
Mrs. Nelson shakes her head, still clutching her arm to her chest. “Oh, no. There’s no need for all that fuss. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll not hear no for an answer.”
Willow heads back out front, then returns a moment later, her apron gone and her purse in hand. She helps Mrs. Nelson out the back door just as I hear the front door open again.
Okay, Chloe. Think.
Without our cook, we can’t serve hot food.
That’s fine—there are plenty of pastries out front.
Those should tide us over until the lunch rush.
Mrs. Nelson will either be back, or we’ll close in the lull between breakfast and lunch.
Not a huge deal. If she can’t return, though, I’ll need to find someone to cover the kitchen tomorrow, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
I push through the kitchen door to find Ethan waiting at the register, and the tension in my shoulders evaporates. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing him walk through the door. “Coffee?” I ask.
“Please.” He glances out the side window to my new picnic tables, the stack of surfboards for the pergola roof waiting patiently beside them. “Your dad’s not here yet?”
Two more folks wander into the café, and the tension returns. Maybe they’re only here for drinks.
I’ve been so busy, I didn’t even realize Rick hadn’t arrived yet. “He’ll be here in a bit.” He’s probably waiting until the hardware store opens so he can pay that bill first. “Don’t feel like you have to stick around, though. He doesn’t need a babysitter.”
Ethan opens his mouth like he’s got something on his mind, then closes it again as I fill the closest mug with coffee and set it down in front of him. He looks from the mug to me and back again.
The poop emoji. Crap.
“Are we good?” he asks, his thumb tapping against the black handle.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just preoccupied.” Another customer strolls in to join the other two behind him. Curse this coffee of mine for being so delicious.
“You sure you’re all right?” he asks, studying my face.
“Yes.”
You don’t have to do everything for everyone.
You don’t have to smile through absolutely everything.
This is Ethan. He knows better than anyone that sometimes things aren’t perfect.
Sometimes they’re shit.
I blow out a breath, letting my smile slip so he can see the truth behind it. “Actually, no. I’m not.” He stands up taller, his brow creasing. “Mrs. Nelson burned herself, and Willow took her to urgent care, so I’m a little understaffed and a lot overwhelmed.”
He glances over his shoulder right as the bell dings and another woman gets in line. “You’re here on your own?”
“For now. Tilly comes in at eleven.”
He picks up his mug, takes a long sip, then rounds the counter. “How can I help?”
“You don’t need to—” His eyes narrow. “Okay, fine. The grill is closed, but I could use a hand running the register while I fix drinks. It’s not hard.”
“I’m sure I can figure it out.”
I snag Willow’s apron from the hook and toss it at my newest employee. “Throw this on so you blend in.”
He raises a skeptical eyebrow at the little peacocks on the front.
“The prices are on the menu over there,” I say, ignoring his obvious disdain for the apron. I’m sure we’ll laugh about it later. “Just type them in and press subtotal.”
His stubbled jaw pulses as he loops the apron over his head and steps up to the register.
I listen to each order before heading over to the espresso machine to start whipping up drinks.
Two cappuccinos. A latte with an extra shot of espresso.
One Americano. An iced mocha. An irritated woman who wanted a BLT with egg but had to make do with a lemon-poppyseed muffin instead.
The clock in the corner ticks away, and I catch myself checking it every minute, waiting for Tilly to arrive so I can relieve Ethan.
The fact that he was so willing to jump right in and help makes my heart do a happy little dance inside my chest. I really found myself a good man.
Even if he’s not mine to keep.
I flick the thought away. No time right now for sob stories.
With the morning rush over, I grab a bus tub from beneath the counter and start clearing tables. Once the mugs are in the dishwasher, I’m going to drag Ethan into my office and kiss his face off.
Assuming no one else comes in.
The instant the thought crosses my mind, the front door swings open, and it takes all my willpower not to scream.
I glance up to offer the newcomer a tight smile and nearly drop the bus tub. “Steve?”
The man grinning from the doorway slides off his aviators, tucking them into the pocket of his bright-pink Hawaiian shirt. In his left hand, he holds a small cardboard box.
What in the world is he doing here? Normally, he comes with his family for the Fourth of July. Last I checked, it’s only June.
Steve’s smile stretches into a grin, and he throws out his arms for a hug. “Surprise!”
Not knowing what else to do, I shift toward him, bus tub and all, enduring what might be the most awkward hug ever witnessed.
“What are you doing in town so early?” I ask, stepping out of his embrace and propping the tub on my hip so my arms don’t give out.
“I had a bunch of extra vacation days, so I thought: Why not head down now to see the lay of the land?” He runs a hand through his cropped brown hair. “I can’t believe it’s been a year since I saw you. Feels like only yesterday. You look great, Chloe. Then again, you always do.”
“Thanks.”
Steve’s head lifts, and his eyes widen. I don’t need to turn around to know Ethan is behind me. I can feel the man’s presence like an electric current humming through my blood.
Ethan looks the newcomer up and down, his expression impossible to read, before relieving me of my bus tub.
I should probably say something to cut the tension. Do I introduce them? That wouldn’t be weird, would it? God, what would I even say?
Hey, Ethan, this is the guy I used to hook up with every July. Steve, this is my…
Ethan is my what? I doubt he considers me his girlfriend—especially after the comment I made in the car about us being just a casual hook-up. All I know is, I’ve never felt about Steve the way I feel about Ethan.
Clearly, Ethan and I need to have a conversation about this, but for now, I go with, “Steve, this is Ethan. Willow had to run out, so he’s helping me for a bit.”
Steve’s smile falters. He mumbles, “Nice to meet you,” but his tone implies the opposite.
Ethan grunts his acknowledgement, then turns around and escapes into the kitchen carrying the tub.
Forcing a smile, I nod at the box Steve is still holding. “What’s that?”
He glances down, as if he forgot the thing was in his hand. “Oh, yeah. I brought you a gift.”
“Oh, really? You shouldn’t have.” I peel back the wrapping from the box. Steve brought me a… Statue of Liberty snow globe.
My smile feels forced.
He reaches for my free hand, lacing our fingers together. His touch feels strange. Not wrong, exactly, but definitely not right. I want to pull my hand away, but I don’t want to embarrass him, so I just kinda let it hang there like a limp fish. “This is cute. Thank you.”
He smiles at the snow globe.
“Do you… um… want a cup of something?” I ask, desperate to escape the weirdness between us.
“Coffee is fine.” He leans in closer, tucking a piece of hair that’s escaped my ponytail behind my ear. “You know how I like it. Extra cream,” he murmurs against my temple.
Why is he acting like this? I slip my hand free and bring his gift behind the counter, sliding it onto the shelf beneath the register. I pour his order into an orange mug made to resemble a traffic cone and add extra cream.
When I set the mug in front of him, he doesn’t immediately pick it up. Instead, he leans forward, resting both elbows on the counter. “Thanks, sexy. Can I also get an egg white omelet with onions and cheese?”
What’s with the nickname? I shake off the unsettling feeling twisting through my stomach. “Sorry, the kitchen’s closed. Our cook burned her arm.” Speaking of Mrs. Nelson, I need to check my phone in case Willow sent an update.
“That sucks.” Steve blows a raspberry through his lips. “Is there any way you can make it?”
Yeah, it does suck.
What sucks even more is his entitled attitude.
“That wouldn’t really be fair,” I say. “Everyone else had to make do with pastries.” Even my beloved barnacles got stuck with croissants.
If anyone deserves a hot breakfast, it’s them.
They’ve spent more money in this place over the years than any other customers.
In those first months at the beginning, I’d have been in the red if it weren’t for them.
“Yeah, but none of them will be rocking your world later tonight.” He waggles his brows.
Jeez. Steve’s not going to be rocking anything tonight, but this is neither the time nor the place for that conversation. We can set the record straight after I close up this afternoon.
He reaches across the counter to give my arm a tender squeeze. “Come on, Chloe. I drove all night to get here. It’s the least you can do.”
I never asked him to drive all night. I never asked him to come to Inner Shores early. I never asked for any of this.
Tilly rushes through the door, her long, red hair flying behind her. “I’m here! I’m here!”
“Looks like help has arrived,” Steve says with a grin. “Now, how about that omelet?”
I suppose it’s not that big a deal to make him breakfast now that Tilly’s here. She can handle the customers, and I can work the grill until lunch. I’m not the greatest cook, but I can try.
Plus, if I feed Steve, he will be more likely to leave. “Give me a few minutes.”
When I step into the kitchen, Ethan doesn’t look up from the sink. The apron he had on has been balled up and discarded on the counter.
Nervous butterflies take flight in my stomach as I cross to the fridge to grab three eggs. “You don’t have to do that. Tilly is here now. I can handle the dishes.”
Ethan knocks the faucet handle with his wrist, rinsing the mug in his hand before dipping it into the bleach water and setting it on the drying rack. “I said I’d help, so that’s what I’m doing. Helping.”
“I appreciate it, but you don’t need to anymore.”
“Don’t you have an omelet to make?”
I wince. “You heard that, huh?”
He glances over his shoulder, not at me, but at the kitchen door, as if he has X-ray vision and can see through the wood to New York Steve. “Who is that guy?”
No one who matters. “That’s Steve.”
“I got that part. What I don’t understand is why you’re back here making him breakfast. I get that your cook is hurt, but… I don’t know. Am I wrong that he’s not just another customer?”
I clear my throat. “Steve and I… In the past, we have… dated?” In the loosest sense of the word.
“Seriously? Him? No offense, but he’s a dick.”
Embarrassment burns up my throat at the way Steve just acted out there. He isn’t normally a dick—at least I don’t remember him being one. He’s probably just exhausted from the long drive down here and super hangry.
“What can I say? I have a type.” It’s meant to be a joke, but from the way Ethan’s expression shifts, he mustn’t think it was very funny. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”
He drops the mug onto the drying rack and finally turns toward me. But when his gaze meets mine, there’s no sign of the warmth that used to live there. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. It was mean, and—”
“And nothing. You don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe me anything. Like you said at your appointment, we’re just hooking up.”
My lips fall open. We’re more than that. Ethan knows it, and so do I. I’m not going to stand here and let him be as foolish as I was to say any different.
I’m about to shut him down, but his next sentence steals the wind from my sails.
“I’m leaving in two days anyway, so this guy’s timing is perfect.”
I freeze. “Two days? When were you going to tell me?”
He pushes off the counter, mouth turned down in his trademark frown. “I just did.”
Any words I could possibly say become trapped in my throat.
I thought we had more time.
I thought… maybe he would change his mind about leaving and choose to stay here instead. Maybe the ferry gods sent him to me after all to fulfill my wish. Was that silly of me? Sure. But I’m nothing if not hopeful.
In an instant, all those hopes have been swept away by the sea of reality.
“Look,” Ethan begins, blowing out a breath, his tone calmer.
More controlled. More distant. As if he’s already gone.
“I’m sorry, Chloe, but we both knew this thing wasn’t going to last forever.
I got a call earlier this morning. They need me back at work on Monday, and I’m finished at Mom and Dad’s.
There’s no sense in delaying the inevitable. ”
He stands there, staring at me, and I gulp back a rock the size of Everest.
I don’t know what to say. He’s completely blindsided me.
When I remain silent, Ethan lets out a breath and strolls right out the back door, leaving my mouth hanging open and my heart falling to pieces in my chest.