Chapter 32
Cal
The storm did a number on Cocktails & Chaos, but it could have been worse.
We lost part of our thatched roof and half of the string lights.
But nothing we can’t fix. The deck has been warped for a while and today is the day I decided to take my anger out on it.
I drag a soaked patio table across the warped deck and set it upright with more force than necessary.
“You’re going to tear up more than you fix,” Jonah grumbles.
“It’s rotten,” I clip.
“So are you,” Jonah says as he watches me out of the corner of his eye.
“It needs to be sanded and repaired.” I glare at him.
He just lifts a shoulder and grunts in return as he stands a few feet away, stacking chairs and moving more slowly than usual.
It’s been two days since Silvie left, and I’ll admit I’ve been a bear. I’ve been waking up before sunrise and burying myself in work. My goal has been to stay as busy as I can so that I don’t have to think of her. Or the way I told her to go. When what I really wanted was for her to stay.
I pry up another board and toss it into the pile.
I look over and wipe the sweat from my brow as I glare at the paparazzi van parked across the street.
Same black SUV with tinted windows. They’ve been circling like sharks.
They don’t care that she’s gone. They’re here for any dirt they can scrounge up.
The Coconut Beach locals are over it. One of the Bees tried to nonchalantly run them off the sidewalk the other day on a motor scooter. I can’t say I didn’t laugh. Because that was funny as hell.
And Lucille and Bitsy have been posting fake sightings on the Coconut Beach social media to watch them scramble. They’re catching on now, though.
Jonah follows my gaze. “They’re persistent little rats. I’ll give them that.”
“They’re more like weasels,” I grumble.
“Same thing,” he says, running a hand over his beard.
Birdie walks up, her oversized sun hat and sunglasses perched on her nose. She surveys the deck and says cheerfully, “You both look grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy,” I mutter.
She pats my cheek. “Of course you are, sugar. Jonah is always grumpy. But you? This is a new look for you. I don’t like it.”
Jonah snorts.
Birdie lowers her voice like she’s about to share a secret. “You’ll both be delighted to learn that the Bees have escalated operations.”
I close my eyes. “I’m afraid to ask.” Because when it comes to the Bees, this could mean one of many things.
“We’ve made it our personal mission to exhaust every single reporter,” she says proudly.
Jonah clears his throat.
Birdie continues, “Wouldn’t you know that they were under the impression that you and Silvie were out on the water yesterday? And they appear to have gotten stranded out there in the water. For hours.”
Well, that kept them busy. Explains why I had peace at the bar yesterday afternoon.
If only it were true. Not having her here has left a gaping hole in my chest.
“Jonah happened to be out there fishing,” she says with a grin.
Jonah holds up both hands. “I was not involved.”
He doesn’t meet my eyes.
Birdie beams. “It was a shame he couldn’t tow them in right away. He told them it had something to do with tide patterns.”
Jonah shrugs. “Can’t control the ocean.”
I shake my head . The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth makes me laugh.
“You left them out there floating for hours?” I ask with a lifted eyebrow.
He huffs. “They were fine.”
Birdie laughs like this is the best thing she’s heard all week. “We’ve made it our mission to send them on wild goose chases. Summer convinced one of them that Silvie was in Aspen. We heard a few actually flew to Colorado to check.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “This is all insane.”
I wish it could go back to the way it was. Peaceful and quiet.
“Effective,” Birdie counters.
Across the street, the SUV door opens and one of the photographers steps out, camera in his hand as he scans the area hoping he can get a good shot of something.
“Unbelievable,” I groan.
Birdie checks her phone. “Oh, good. Bitsy just posted that we are planning a party for you and Silvie tonight.”
I turn to her. “What?”
Jonah’s shoulders shake with laughter. For once, it’s funny to see him conspiring with the Bees and having fun with the paparazzi.
Birdie smirks. “They’ll all be at the wrong beach at sunset.”
The photographer pulls out his phone and glances at it, frowns, then jogs back to the SUV. Within seconds, the engine starts up, and he speeds off.
Birdie squeezes my arm before heading back toward the cottages. “We’ve got your back, sugar. Always.”
I lean against the railing, staring out at the water. It looks calm now. Like the storm and fight between Silvie and me never happened.
Jonah steps up beside me. “You going to keep brooding like an angry bear?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re brooding,” he says. “It’s obnoxious.”
I let out a breath. “I’m working.”
“You’ve been working nonstop since she left.”
“Yeah.”
He studies me for a second. “You mad at her?”
I don’t answer right away. The truth is messy.
“I’m mad at the situation,” I say finally. “At the timing. At the fact that I didn’t say what I should’ve said.”
“And what was that?”
That I wanted her to stay. That I wanted her more than this bar and this beach and this safe little world I’ve built around everyone else.
I shrug instead. “Doesn’t matter.”
Jonah leans his elbows on the railing. “The whole town’s tired of those vultures. We’ll keep them busy.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I glance back at the empty street. “They’re here because of her.”
“They’re here because she matters to you,” he says quietly.
I let out a humorless laugh. “That’s not why.”
Jonah doesn’t argue. He just looks at me like he knows better as he pats my shoulder and saunters off.
When he’s gone, I pick up the crowbar again and get to work. I tell myself I’m just fixing what the storm tore apart.
But really, I’m just trying to stay busy enough that I don’t check my phone every five minutes.
Trying not to wonder if she’s sitting in some glass tower right now, choosing her future.
Trying not to admit that I’m still standing here, waiting to see if I’m part of it.
Her pillow on my bed still smells like her shampoo. Coconut and something flowery. It’s torture because when I smell it, I remember her tangled in the sheets and her laugh muffled against my chest.
My throat tightens, and I mutter, “Get it together.”
I hear my phone buzz and pull it out to see Wilby’s name on the screen. I stare at it for a second before answering. What if something’s wrong with Silvie?
“Yeah.”
“You sound awful,” he says. “Are you still being dramatic?”
“What do you want, Wilby?” I say dryly.
He sighs. I can hear city noise in the background. Traffic, sirens, the typical hum of the city that never stops moving.
“Listen, I’m just going to give it to you straight,” he says.
That makes me pause.
“She’s not doing good,” he says. “She’s not eating or sleeping. She looks awful.”
My fingers tighten around the phone. “Why? She’s where she wants to be. She got her company. This is what she wanted, Wilby.”
“She’s not happy,” he says.
“She tell you to call me?”
“No, and she’d probably be pissed if she knew I did. She misses you like hell, and it’s making her physically sick. I’ve never seen her like this.”
Silence.
“She needs you, man.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “She’s fine.”
“She’s not fine, not even close to fine. She’s heartbroken,” he says firmly.
“She’s Silvie. She’s built for this life. She’ll bounce back and be okay,” I reason.
“She needs you,” he shoots back. “Look, I can’t explain it. But you two? You are it, man. IT.”
Silence again stretches between us and I close my eyes.
Then he says, “I can send the jet.”
I let out a breath. “Wilby.”
“I’m serious. You can be here by tonight. And fix her! She needs you.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I have a life here. I have to take care of my mom.”
There’s a pause, then he says calmly, “Cal.”
“I’m not leaving my mom.”
“You’re not abandoning her. Listen, she has the Bees all lined up. Silvie got her to sign up for her first therapy appointment. She’s been out on the porch twice. She’s made progress.”
I swallow, heart pattering wildly in my chest. I didn’t know any of this. I guess you miss a lot while wallowing in self-pity.
“I can’t,” I say again, but it comes out weaker now.
“Are you staying for Carly,” Wilby asks carefully, “or are you hiding?”
That lands harder than it should. Because I think he’s right. Damn it. I know he’s right.
“I’ve gotta go,” I mutter.
He sighs. “If you change your mind, the jet’s ready.”
I hang up.
That afternoon, when I get to the bar, Jonah is there, his arms folded as he watches me walk toward him.
Jonah is never behind the bar. He hasn’t worked at the bar in over five years. He gave it to me to manage, and he’s taken a hands-off approach. I run it all, make all the decisions, and he lets me have free will.
“You look like crap,” he says as his eyes scan my face.
“Hello to you, too,” I say as I grab a few dirty dishes off a table and set them in the bin.
“We need to talk.”
I pause and straighten. “This sounds serious.”
He looks at me. “It is serious. You are messing up.”
I move behind the bar automatically and grab a rag because it’s habit and muscle memory. He puts his hand on it.
“You gonna keep doing this?” Jonah asks.
“Doing what?” I clip.
“You know what,” he says calmly.
“I’m trying to work.”
“You’re hiding,” Jonah says.
I slam a stack of coasters down. “Drop it. Why does everyone say that?”
“Because it’s true,” he says.
I glare at him. “No, it’s not.”
“You’re fired.”
I blink. “What?”
“You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me.”
“I just did.”
I stare at him. “For what?”
“For acting like a ghost in your own life.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You’re dramatic.”
“Marina’s the manager now.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?” he snaps. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
“I don’t care.”
And I don’t. That’s the worst part. Everything feels like static. Like I’m watching my own life through fogged glass.
Jonah walks and stops in front of me. “You’re letting it fall apart.”
“I’m holding everything together.”
“For who?” he demands.
“My mom.”
“Your mom doesn’t need you to martyr yourself.”
I stiffen. “Watch it.”
“No, I won’t watch it. She means something to me, son. She needs you to be happy and not to punish yourself because of her. Stop being scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“You are terrified.”
Silence fills the air between us.
“You think if you stay here and hide behind taking care of your mom,” Jonah continues, softer now, “it hurts less when Silvie leaves for good.”
That hits somewhere deep and ugly.
“She told me in the beginning she’d leave,” I say quietly.
“She told you she’d leave because she didn’t think you’d be real. Everyone knows this is real.”
My jaw tightens and I glance away.
Jonah reaches into the drawer behind the bar and tosses a folder onto the counter between us.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
I flip it open. It’s the deed to Cocktails & Chaos with my name on it.
I look up. “What is this?”
“You’re the owner now,” he says.
“What do you mean? Why are you doing this?” I ask, confused. “Did something happen?”
“No, nothing has happened. I’ve been meaning to transfer it. Paperwork’s done. It’s yours. If we’re being honest, it’s been yours for a while now. We just needed to make it official.”
“Jonah, I can’t take this,” I say, closing the folder.
“You can.”
“I don’t want...”
“You don’t want what?” he interrupts. “Responsibility? Freedom? You can go anywhere when you own this bar. Marina is going to run it, and you know that she’s more than capable.”
My heart pounds in my chest.
“You’re not tied here,” he says. “You never were. I don’t need you, and your momma doesn’t need you. We all look after her.”
“You don’t get it...”
“I do get it,” he says. “I’ve got it. Marina’s got it. The damn Bees got it. Your mom will be fine.”
I swallow hard. I think about what Wilby said.
“Carly doesn’t need you hovering,” he continues. “She needs you to live your life.”
The bar suddenly feels smaller.
“I love you, son. You mean the world to me. It’s my pleasure to give you this. But if you make me get all sappy, I swear I’ll push you off the dock. Just take it.”
I nod and give him a big hug. He tenses up first, then leans into it and pats my back.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“Silvie’s not just another summer escape,” Jonah says firmly. “She’s your wife.”
My chest aches. Wife.
God, I miss her. So damn much.
“She chose you,” he says gently. “Now go choose her.”
The truth is, I already have. I know, deep in my heart, I want her, but everything is so messy and stressful.
When you’re with her it’s not…
“I don’t know if she still wants me,” I admit, hating how true those words are.
I want to go to her.
Jonah steps closer and drops his voice. “Then go fight for her.”
I really want to go to her.
I exhale slowly, and silence stretches between us.
I really, really want to go to her.
Jonah claps a hand on my shoulder. “Go get your wife.”
I’m going to go to her.
For the first time in days, something sparks in my chest. Hope. I’m gonna go get her back.