Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
IN BETWEEN
LOLA
The neon loon sign buzzes faintly above the door, gold light spilling out onto the sidewalk. It smells like fried food and beer even out here, but there’s something about it that’s cozy, like my favorite mom-and-pop places in New York.
I slow down.
“Wow, this place is a dive. Should we skip it and go to Elm & Echo now?” he asks.
“I thought we were going there later tonight. This looks fun. Let’s try it.”
He opens the door and gestures for me to go in first. “M’lady.”
I step inside. Someone cheers from the bar—it’s pretty busy for an early dinner.
Patrick leans close to my ear. “Are we sure about this?”
I give him a look. “You said you really wanted a burger or fried fish. This looks like the perfect place for that.”
“If you say so.” He laughs and starts guiding us toward the back, where a high-top is open.
And then I see him. My stomach drops so fast it’s almost dizzying. He’s at a booth with three women. They’re laughing, all of them leaning in toward each other like a glossy ad for beautiful women doting on a gorgeous hockey star.
Tully. He was ridiculously hot when we met in college, and in the five years since I last saw him in person, he’s only gotten more devastatingly beautiful.
He exudes confidence, cockiness even, but if he’s the same Tully I know, he’s really the most down-to-earth person there is… while also being a sex god.
I can’t believe he’s at the restaurant now too.
I’m still not over the fact that Patrick brought me to Windhaven.
It took me forever to agree to go out with Patrick, for the single reason that he’s a hockey player.
He wore me down with his charm and persistence.
But we’ve been dating for five months, and only recently have I realized there’s this thing between him and Tully.
Patrick tried to downplay it when I asked if I was imagining his extreme dislike of Tully Whitman.
And from Tully’s expression when he saw Patrick, I’d say the feeling is mutual.
My chest feels cinched tight with a drawstring.
Patrick is still talking, but his voice fades into background static. I can feel my pulse in my throat.
Then the woman across from Tully shifts, turning her face toward me, and my brain stutters.
Oh. Same eyes. Her smile is softer, her posture more relaxed, but they look so similar.
His twin, Goldie.
I’ve seen pictures. On Tully’s Instagram, once, late at night, when I was doing that thing I swore I wouldn’t do anymore.
We’ve all done it, right? Cyber-stalked our exes.
Tully’s actually the only ex I’ve stalked…
but really, he’s so much more than just an ex.
It was a birthday post with the caption My built-in best friend. Side-by-side photos, identical grins.
I remember zooming in, studying both of their faces and all the features they share.
Patrick sees where I’m looking and then freezes. “Should we leave? You just started talking to me again.”
“No,” I say, too quickly. “Why would we leave? I don’t want to be obvious.”
“Your eye is twitching.”
“It is not.”
“Lola.”
“I’m fine.” I paste on a smile. “Let’s eat.”
We manage to be seated without alerting Tully and the women to our presence. Our table is at the worst-possible angle—close enough that I can see their table if I turn my head, and far enough that I can almost get away with looking…which of course means I cannot stop looking.
Patrick nudges a menu toward me. “Okay. We order drinks. You get something strong. Mood salvaged.”
I don’t want him saying I need my mood salvaged when he’s the one who put me in this position by bringing me to Windhaven, but I bite my tongue. Again.
A server comes over, and Patrick orders for both of us without even asking me. “Two house margaritas.”
The server nods and walks away before I can say anything.
“I didn’t say I wanted a margarita,” I mutter.
“You always want a margarita.”
“Not here. This is more of a hard cider kind of place.”
He sighs, rubbing his face. “Lola, it’s just a drink.”
“It’s not about the drink. It’s about you making decisions that affect me without discussing them with me.”
“I know. You’re right.” He sighs and leans in. “But maybe don’t spiral over your ex in a greasy bar.”
I glare at him. “I am not spiraling. And if I am, at least half of it is because of you.”
The margaritas arrive. They are aggressively green.
Patrick takes a sip. Makes a face. “Okay. That’s…chemical.”
When the server comes back to take our order, I ask for a hard cider.
Tully laughs again across the room, and the sound threads through the noise straight to me. His sister leans over to show him something on her phone, their heads almost touching. It makes me miss my brother and sister.
“Are you sure you want to stay?” Patrick asks, reaching for my hand. “I’m sorry I made the wrong choice in bringing you here.”
I’m still mad at him, but I remind myself that we’ve had some amazing times. I told myself I’d give him a chance. I’m just so confused right now.
“We’re here,” I say. “Let’s stay.”
Something in his expression shifts—he’s tired, maybe, or more likely frustrated with me. He leans back in his chair and takes another sip of the radioactive margarita.
“Cool,” he says sarcastically. “Let’s just be in a foul mood while we’re on vacation.”
Okay, I take it all back.
“You’re seriously giving me attitude after what you’ve done?”
He groans. “I didn’t know it’d give you an excuse to be impossible. I’m really trying here, and I wish you’d meet me halfway.”
“I need to go home. It was a mistake coming here. I thought we could fix us.”
He leans in. “No. Come on. Please. You deserve a break. You’ve been working so hard. Even if you decide you don’t want to be with me anymore…can’t we stay friends?”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. I do want to stay friends. I think maybe that’s what we should’ve always been.”
His jaw clenches. “Don’t say that.”
“You know what? I think I need to go back to the room. I need a little space. Stay here and eat. We can talk later.”
“You need to eat,” he says. “Come on. Stay. I’ll cooperate.”
I shake my head. “It’s too weird to have this conversation here.”
He nods but looks conflicted. “All right. Do you want me to bring any food back?”
I shake my head. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”
“Do you still wanna do Elm & Echo later?” he asks.
“Um—”
“Go rest. No pressure. Think about things. I’ll see you later.” He gives me a sad smile, and I stand.
“Okay. See you later.” I grab my purse and force myself not to turn back to see Tully one more time.
It’s the perfect day for a walk.
The resort isn’t far from The Loon. I need the air and the quiet.
Except a few seconds in, I pull my phone from my pocket and hit my sister’s name.
She answers on the second ring. “Well?”
I huff out a laugh. “Hello to you too.”
“You left me on read three hours ago. Are you okay? What happened?”
I step off the shoulder when a car passes. “You won’t believe who’s here, Isla.”
“Um, I have no idea.”
“Tully.”
A long pause. I can practically hear her rearranging her thoughts, putting them in neat, labeled bins the way she always does. I’ve never been good at that. My bins are more like piles.
“Wow. How does he seem?” she prompts.
“He’s…Tully.” I swallow. “The same. But different. Older. Not older. Still gorgeous. Maybe more serious. I don’t know. He looked at me, and it was like my chest forgot how to function.”
She exhales slowly. “Lola.”
“I know,” I say quickly. “This is the last thing I needed to decide whether to move on with Patrick. But he knew there was a chance we’d see Tully. I’m so mad at him. I don’t know why he’d put me in this situation if he really wanted to win me back.”
“Wait. He planned this trip knowing Tully would be there?”
“Yes.”
“That’s kind of messed up. Or maybe he senses that there’s no closure there. Are you sure you’re not just looking for more reasons to break up with him?” she asks gently.
“Yes.” The answer comes too fast. Defensive. I wince at my own tone. “I mean, this does give me more reasons.”
“True. But you’re there to focus on Patrick, to figure out your future,” she says. “Not reopen your past.”
I kick at a rock in the road, sending it skittering into the adjacent ditch. “It’s not that simple.”
“It kind of is.”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “You didn’t see the way Tully looked at me.”
“It’s taken you so long to get over him. I’d hate to see you throw away a new relationship and backtrack,” she continues. “You’re juggling too many balls. And you’ve never been great at juggling.”
“You’re right about that.”
“You don’t have to solve everything at once. But maybe don’t add more to your plate.”
“It just hurts to see him.”
Silence stretches between us. The wind picks up, threading through the trees with a hollow whistle.
“Are you going to tell him?” she asks.
My stomach churns. “No, there’s no way I can tell him everything.”
Isla doesn’t even know everything.
I hear a car coming and move closer to the edge of the road, glancing back once. The car doesn’t pass. It slows.
“Hang on,” I murmur.
The car rolls up beside me, engine humming low. The passenger window slides down. Tully leans across the center console, forearm draped over the steering wheel. Light catches in his hair and glints along the edge of his jaw. His eyes find mine, and my heart jolts.
For a second, neither of us speaks.
My sister’s voice is faint through the phone. “Lola? What’s going on?”
I swallow. “I’ve gotta go.”
I hang up on her, my eyes never leaving Tully’s.
He tips his head slightly, an almost-smile playing at his mouth.
“Need a ride?” he asks.