Chapter 19
I’m high on life the following days, and I feel almost shy when Viv calls me on Monday, euphoric, over the sales figures from the day before.
“And I love what you’ve done with the store. It looks better than ever. You are a genius,” she says to me.
I assure her I’m really not. Probably just lucky, but she snorts at that.
“Lucky my ass, honey.”
Cactus and I spend our days in the garden.
She’s started hanging out with me a lot more since that stormy night she ran away.
Sometimes she still chooses her spot on the sofa, but more often than not, she’s right where I am.
And I can’t believe there ever was a time when I didn’t want to spend all my time with her.
She’s the best company. Plus, she’s so cute. Just look at my screen saver . . .
One night, I invite Margot over for dinner. I spend the day making a ragù alla Genovese from a recipe I found a couple of years ago and have been wanting to try ever since. And I must say, it turns out fantastic.
We sit on the patio, and Margot looks so happy that my heart pinches when I tell her it’s the opening night since I’ve never had dinner out here before.
“Can you help me put up string lights like this over my patio, too?” she asks me, gazing at the lightbulbs above our heads that embrace us in a warm, inviting glow.
“Of course,” I say without hesitation and without telling her it took me about four hours to put up mine.
“Wow, dear, this tastes amazing!” she exclaims with wide eyes after taking the first bite. “What did you say it was called?”
“Thank you, Margot. Ragù alla Genovese.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Ragu what again?”
I chuckle. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a kind of meat sauce.”
“Either way, it’s delicious.”
I beam at her, feeling warm. “Thank you.”
We eat and drink red wine while Margot updates me on the town’s juiciest gossip. Turns out Dave in the hardware store has a boyfriend named Dave, who also owns a hardware store but in a neighboring town.
Then she tells me about Liz, and I start listening more carefully. Margot is one of the very few people who can really tell me about her.
“Do you know why she moved here?”
“From Los Angeles, you mean?”
I nod while I refill her glass.
Margot shrugs her shoulders. “She felt happy here.”
My eyebrows knit together in confusion. “But she had a life in Los Angeles?”
“A life she apparently wasn’t one hundred percent happy with.”
“But it was Los Angeles.”
“Who cares? She fell in love with Pearlband Beach.”
“But . . .”
Margot tilts her head, narrowing her eyes at me. “But what, dear?”
“Los Angeles is a much bigger city than Pearlband Beach.”
Margot’s eyebrows fly up her forehead. “I know that, darling. But what on earth does that have to do with anything?”
“You can’t achieve your dreams in a small city.”
Margot squints her eyes. “You can’t?”
“The big cities offer the big opportunities.”
“Do they? I believe that depends on what a ‘big opportunity’ means to you.”
I realize we won’t understand each other. Margot is from a different generation, and she’s lived her whole life in Pearlband Beach.
“Time for dessert,” I say, standing up.
“Dessert? Young girl, you spoil me.” Margot beams happily, looking adorable in her pink dress and pearl necklace.
“You spoil me with your good company,” I shoot back with a smile. At this, Margot glows brighter than all the lightbulbs out here.
Since we both have a real sweet tooth, I decided to make us a fudgy brownie with a sprinkle of sea salt. It’s amazing—I know, because I couldn’t stop myself from trying it when I took it out of the oven earlier.
“Oh, dear lord, have mercy,” Margot says, staring at the plate as I set it in front of her. I grin knowingly.
“A chocolate bomb for two chocolate gals,” I say, pouring her some brandy into one of the tiny, beautiful glasses I found in the display cabinet. Margot clasps her hands together in delight.
“This is one of the best nights of my life.”
My heart squeezes. “Mine, too.” And I really mean it. I want to have dinner with Margot every other week.
“Cheers, honey.”
“Cheers, Margot.”
The golden liquid burns on its way down, and I lean back in my chair. Pine and rose mingle with the salty air, creating the most intoxicating perfume. I wouldn’t want to change a single thing about this moment. And I must say, even though I made it myself, the brownie is fucking terrific.
A couple of minutes pass in complete silence as we savor the deliciousness. If Lydia won’t take me back, maybe I can try being a baker. This cake says I might have a shot.
In my periphery, I see my phone light up from a text.
I frown when I see a croissant on the screen.
Am I that drunk—suddenly seeing pastries everywhere?
I reach for the phone, holding it near my face and feel a violent flutter in my chest when I notice the name.
Something feels warm in my veins, like I’ve taken another sip of brandy. Or swallowed the whole bottle.
Benjamin: Hey.
Me: Hey yourself.
Benjamin: Just wanted to check how Cactus is doing?
Me: Living her best dog life chewing on a peanut butter stuffed bone atm.
Benjamin: So, she’s eating normally?
Me: Yes. Maybe even better than before.
Benjamin: Because you’re treating her to candy all the time?
Me: She deserves it.
Benjamin: Don’t tell her vet that.
Me: It’s okay, he’s too busy pretending he has a girlfriend to listen anyway.
Benjamin: Wow, you really can’t let go of my love life. Why is that, Collins?
I smirk at the screen.
Me: Dream on, Reyes.
Benjamin: You do know that dogs can become overweight, right?
Me: She runs every morning. It’s all about balance. God, I feel so sorry for Audrey.
Benjamin: Don’t. She’s the happiest dog in the world.
Me: How do you know?
Benjamin: I’m a vet.
Me: You’re a smartass.
Benjamin: I’m both.
Benjamin: What are you doing?
Me: I’m on a date.
Benjamin: With your sister?
Me: Nope.
This time, his reply doesn’t come right away. I hold my breath while I wait, impatiently staring at the screen. Is he really not going to answer? Why do I want him to so badly? Why does it feel like everything depends on it?
Four minutes later, three dots appear on the screen, and then . . .
Benjamin: Who’s your date?
I exhale again.
Me: Wow, you really can’t let go of my love life. Why is that, Reyes?
Another pause, longer this time. The air around me changes, growing heavier with each passing second. Is he not going to text me back?
But when the reply finally emerges on my screen, it’s not what I expected. Not at all.
Benjamin: Maybe I don’t want to share your lips with anyone else. So, I ask you again, June. Who’s your date?
I stare at my phone. At his words. They’re burning up my cheeks and burning up my body. Burning everywhere. Everywhere.
I swallow before slowly typing my reply. And while I do, my lust for sarcastic banter is lost. Gone.
Me: I’m having dinner with Margot on my patio.
This time, his reply comes immediately.
Benjamin: Good. Sounds nice. Give her my best.
Benjamin: Good night, Collins.
I read his messages again with my heart kicking against my ribs. I shift in my seat, crossing my legs and pressing them together. Trying to press away the heat that’s once again gathered there. But it’s impossible because every time I read his words, the heat flares again.
His face flashes before my eyes. Those stupid, green, beautiful eyes.
A small cough throws me back to reality. Margot. Sitting in front of me. Peering at me with interested eyes.
“Has something happened, dear?”
I throw one last glance at my phone before I quickly lock it and drop it face down on the table. “No.” I shake my head. “Nothing at all. Everything’s fine.”
Margot narrows her eyes. “Are you sure, sweetie? You look a little flushed.”
My hands fly up to my face. “It’s the wine,” I say quickly, feeling hot skin under my fingertips. Jeez, I really am flushing.
Something twitches her lips. “Of course it is, dear.”
I avoid looking at her, afraid of what else she might see on my face.
“More dessert?” I ask, and before she can say anything, I place another piece of brownie on her plate.
She doesn’t protest—just gives me another peculiar look before seeming to let whatever she’s thinking about go, turning her attention back to the brownie.
“I’ll be dreaming about this for days.”
I smile, thinking about how happy she’ll be when she discovers that I’ve prepped a box full of brownies for her to take home.
Later that night, after Margot has left and I’m in bed, I do my best not to think of a certain vet.
But it’s impossible. He’s everywhere—on the inside of my eyelids, in my nose, under my skin.
My heart’s been pounding since I read his texts, and I realize I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately: when I wake up in the morning, when I run along the beach, when I watch The Office.
And now, when I’m lying in bed, about to sleep.