Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
AND THEN SHE APPEARED
TULLY
Two weeks later
It’s been a jam-packed couple of weeks, which has been a good thing, since I’ve been unable to pull myself out of the pit left by seeing Lola again. So much for Operation Lola. The plan that caught fire and sizzled into the dirt before it could even roast a single marshmallow.
Ugh. Yeah. I’m in shit shape. Using marshmallows in my metaphors is a new low.
And now I have to be surrounded by romance and love and happiness for the weekend.
It’s bad enough living in the glow of my siblings and their significant others.
Milo is perfect for Goldie, and that was a tall order for me because no one is good enough for my sister.
But they’re even better together. And we all knew that Camden and Juju belonged with each other.
There’s no way I’m going to begrudge their joy when I’ve wanted them to be together forever.
And we’re just getting to know Dahlia and her little girl Chloe, but Dylan is like a new man.
He worships the ground they both walk on.
I’m happy that they’ve found their soulmates, I really am, but it just makes it all the more glaringly obvious that the hole Lola left in me isn’t going to be filled anytime soon. If ever.
Nothing makes all of this more apparent than the reason I’ve flown all day and am now on a ferry.
My college roommate Dax is getting married this weekend.
The guy who existed on beer and one-night stands throughout our time at school.
I never thought I’d see the day when he’d want to commit to one person for the rest of his life, but he met Skye and was all in.
The ferry rocks as it cuts through the gray water toward Nantucket.
I lean on the rail, wind whipping my hoodie, and remind myself to enjoy this weekend.
Fake it till I make it. Just because I want to smack romance with a baseball bat and see it go careening into outer space doesn’t mean I should begrudge someone else’s love story.
Training camp doesn’t start for another two weeks. I need to enjoy the time off before things get crazy again.
My phone buzzes, and I glance down to see a text from Daniel.
I should tell my agent that I’m retiring after this season.
I have to soon…should have already…but I just haven’t had the heart to.
Daniel has been invested in my career from the very beginning—as an advisor throughout college, and then as my agent as soon as I graduated.
He’s always had huge plans in mind for me.
Plans that I’ve tried to play down when he brings them up, only for him to add more the next time we talk.
He’s not going to take my retirement well. At all.
The ferry docks. I grab my duffel, nod my thanks to the crew, and start the less-than-ten-minute walk to the hotel.
Check-in is quick, and even though there’s a flare of recognition in the clerk’s eyes, she’s discreet and classy.
My cottage is beautiful. On the phone earlier, Dax apologized that I’d be in the smallest cottage, but then added, “It’s technically the honeymoon suite, though, so if you meet someone in town, you’ve got a great place to bring her.
” When I laughed, he said, “Always looking out for you, bro.”
He may have changed his ways for Skye, but he still assumes everyone else thinks like a player.
The lobby smells like salt and lavender and money. I drop my bag in the room, crack the window to let the breeze in, then head right back outside. I need to move after the long flight and ferry ride.
I step onto the brick path, turn toward the water, and almost walk straight into Lola. I’m so floored that I just stare at her for a moment.
She’s standing in faded jeans and a soft blue sweater, hair pulled back loose, a canvas tote slung over one shoulder. Her sunglasses are on top of her head, and her eyes go wide—the same shock I feel slamming through me.
“Tully?” Her voice is quiet and surprised, but warm.
My mouth goes dry. “You’re…everywhere I turn these days.”
She gives a small laugh, almost disbelieving. “I could say the same about you. What are you doing in Nantucket?”
“Dax is getting married this weekend.”
“No way,” she says, her eyebrows lifting. “Does his soon-to-be bride know what she’s getting herself into?”
I chuckle. “She’s turned Dax into a new man. I don’t think you’d even recognize him. He only has eyes for Skye.”
“Wow. I honestly thought he’d stay single forever,” she says.
“Me too. Are you here visiting family?”
“Yeah. Small world and crazy timing, right?”
“That’s an understatement.” I grin.
And then I remember she has a boyfriend.
A quick scan behind her doesn’t reveal him, but I don’t presume he’s not still here.
“Where’s Patrick?” It slips out before I can catch it.
She exhales, looks down at the bricks for a beat, then back up at me. Something flickers in her eyes—relief, maybe, or just exhaustion. “We broke up.”
I swallow hard, wanting to dance a little jig right there on the sidewalk, but instead, I say, “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes narrow. “Are you, though?”
“Not at all.” I laugh. “I mean, I’m sorry if you’re hurting, but—”
“I’m not.” She gives me a tight smile. “It needed to end…it went on longer than it should’ve. I’m okay.”
“I’m sure he’s not as happy about this decision.”
Her nose crinkles up. “No, he’s not.”
The wind tugs at her hair, a strand flying across her cheek. She doesn’t brush it away. I shove my hands deeper into my pockets because I really want to reach out and touch her.
“So, are there a lot of wedding festivities?” she asks.
“You know Dax. He doesn’t do anything halfway…and this weekend is no exception. But Nantucket in September isn’t the worst thing in the world, is it? It’s beautiful here.”
She nods and glances toward the harbor. “I’ve always thought so. I miss it. I needed to get my fix. It must feel similar to you, being in Windy Harbor.”
“Yeah, it does. St. Paul is home, but Windy Harbor feels like the best parts of home. Growing up, it’s where we went for fun and downtime. All the water grounds me, and being there more often feels like an extended vacation. I’m sure it will feel a little different once I’m there full-time—”
“Or maybe that vacation mentality will keep carrying through.”
“Maybe.” I smile.
Silence settles between us, not awkward exactly. The water laps against the shore, and a gull cries overhead.
I think of Operation Lola and wonder what the girls would suggest right about now.
“Want to—I don’t know. Grab coffee? A sandwich? Take a walk?” The words are out before I can overthink them. “No pressure.”
She studies me for a second, like she’s weighing things out. Then she smiles, and my stomach flips.
“A walk sounds good,” she says.
The cobblestones click under our shoes as we head up Main Street, our shoulders close enough that I can feel her warmth.
The shops are the same—boutiques with baskets and linen dresses, bookstores, a candy place that still smells like caramel from fifty feet away.
We duck into a little cafe for iced coffees, and it’s like slipping into an old rhythm.
We existed on iced coffee in college. The island stretches out ahead—old houses, hydrangeas still blooming, and this gorgeous woman by my side. I can hardly believe it.
“Two times in a month,” I say.
“What’s two times in a month?”
“That I’ve seen you. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like maybe there’s a hidden camera crew or something.”
She snorts. “Please. If this were a movie, we’d already be at the montage part with a piano playing a happy song and slow-motion shots of us walking.”
“We kind of are,” I say, gesturing at the restaurant that has piano music playing on the speakers, the flowers, the postcard street.
She laughs again, softer this time. “It’s freaky. Good freaky, but freaky.”
“Yeah.” I look at her profile, and something in my chest twists. “I want to ask so many questions.”
She turns her head, eyes meeting mine, curious but careful.
“But…”
“But?” she prompts gently.
“But I want to enjoy this day more.” I stop walking for a second, so she stops too.
“I don’t want to spend the next few hours digging up old wounds or trying to get an explanation on what happened to make us go five years without talking.
I just want…this. Hanging out together for an afternoon.
” I lift a shoulder. “Isn’t that the least we should do for this crazy coincidence? ”
She studies me for a beat, then points at me with one finger, a small, decisive gesture.
“Yes. Exactly,” she says. “Let’s do that.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“Enjoy this day.” She draws an invisible line in the air between us. “In Nantucket, doing whatever we decide to do next.”
A grin pulls at my mouth. “Deal.”
“Swear on the Brant Point Lighthouse.”
I hold up three fingers like a scout. “Swear.”
She mirrors me, solemn for half a second before she cracks and laughs. We start walking again, slower now, like we’re stretching the afternoon as far as it’ll go.
“So tell me about your life in New York. Are you living the dream?” I ask.
When she makes a face, I pause.
“What, should we not talk about that either?”
“No, it’s not that. I just—yes, I’m doing what I dreamed of. I own a tattoo shop, and I do love that…”
“But?”