5. Lily
Chapter 5
Lily
W edding admin is one thing. Jilting admin, it turns out, is just as tough.
I looked at the pile of wedding presents, sighing as I started to write out returns labels. I was struggling to strike the right tone. Thankful but apologetic. Sad but defiant.
Dear Connie,
Thank you so much for the generous $100 homewares voucher. As you know, the marriage didn’t go according to plan, so I’m returning it.
With love,
Lily
P.S Vlad has a smaller than average peni—
I stopped and scribbled out what I’d written. Clearly, I was still too emotionally raw to be doing this.
I was standing behind the counter in Happy Ever Affogato for the first time since the jilting. The last few days had been spent in a blur of teary phone calls to friends and family, and devouring a metric ton of cookie-dough Ben and Jerry’s. On the bright side, I hadn’t sustained any major injuries in the crash at Ethan’s garage, and this morning I’d woken up with a burning ambition to get my life back on track.
So, I’d got dressed. I’d put on the kind of outfit I enjoyed wearing before Vlad and I got together. A flowy bohemian blouse with pink love hearts all over it. And I’d walked to the store, listening to a podcast of positive affirmations, and made myself an extra frothy cappuccino.
And all the while, I’d tried not to fall apart.
The store was in a sorry state. Lately, I’d been laser-focused on sorting everything for the wedding. Not to mention all my spare cash had been siphoned off to satisfy Vlad’s whims and fantasies. I’d sacked my assistant, Yolande, and the store had gone to seed. Displays looked sparse. My mystery romance reads table was almost empty. A thick layer of dust was building up on the “sweet romance” section (books without any smut always struggled to sell in my store) and even my beloved porcelain spaniels looked as though they could use a good polish.
I picked up some of the wedding presents and carefully walked them back into the storage room and dumped them on a packing table. “Job for another day,” I sighed.
My lack of sleep was making everything harder. But how was I meant to sleep after Ethan McCoy had walked in on me naked, ripping my itty-bitty wedding dress into even itty-bittier pieces? Each time I got into bed, my brain went straight back to the look on his face.
Those ice-blue eyes, so hard and full of intensity. The way he’d inadvertently run his tongue across his lips. It hadn’t helped that I’d almost gone weak at the knees when he’d looked my body up and down, even if he’d done it for just the tiniest fraction of a second.
And then . . . the killer. The moment his hand had touched my bare skin, it was like . . . I don’t know. Magic or something. Just one tiny touch and I’d felt more aroused than I’d felt after half an hour of foreplay with some guys. Seriously. It was like . . . skin chemistry. I don’t know. Maybe it was the fact he was a mechanic. That rough, oily skin, able to be so strong and so precise at the same time. Whatever it was, the moment his hand shot out and brushed against my clavicle, it was like my whole world exploded and then reformed, bigger and more open and more delightful than ever.
Yeah. I was a sucker, wasn’t I? Too romantic for my own good. Always turning nothing into something.
And yet I couldn’t stop myself. I’d replayed that moment in my mind over and over again. I’d made it into some kind of twisted fantasy. I’d imagined Ethan stripping naked beside me, grabbing the dress out of my hands and ripping it to shreds with his bare teeth. . . .
Was that weird?
Of course it was weird. Not just because I was literally engaged to someone else five minutes ago. But also because it was Ethan Fricking McCoy.
The McCoy brothers were sort of like local celebrities in Bluehaven Beach. They weren’t actually famous—except for Jack, of course, who was an NHL bigshot—but they were kinda larger than life. For a start, they were non-identical triplets, which was clearly unusual, and all of them had these big, beefy physiques. They were all at least six feet, and Ethan was the tallest, which clearly appealed to me. As a statuesque woman, there was nothing sexier than finding a guy who didn’t make me feel like the Incredible Hulk.
The brothers had a huge impact on the town, too. There was Cole, who did almost all the building work in Bluehaven Beach with his dad, including the refurb of Happy Ever Affogato. Jack had been the talk of the town when he’d signed for the Montreal Canadiens. And Ethan ran an auto shop that was an iconic local landmark.
Had a breakdown? Call McCoy’s Motors.
That was written on a billboard on the edge of town for a while. The words had been scrolling through my mind a lot lately.
Had I been fantasizing about Ethan McCoy ever since the crash because I was having a breakdown? Was Ethan filling some kind of Vlad-shaped hole in my mind? I barely knew him really, other than the guy whose wife had tragically died in a car addicent. A handsome, older, untouchable guy. A brooding widow. A busy single dad. But yeah, I’d always thought he was hot. He came into the store quite a bit. Never for romance novels—just for drinks. He always ordered macchiatos and was the only person in town who ordered them. I had to learn how to make them specially for him. I always liked serving him. So much so, in fact, that I purposefully took a little too much time making his drinks. Tamping the coffee for slightly longer than necessary. Making a big show of cleaning the milk steamer’s nozzles before firing it up. Slow-pouring his milk foam onto the short, black espresso.
Was it weird that even thinking about macchiatos made my tummy feel a little bit funny?
“Snap out of it, Lily!” I growled at myself. Determined to get something done, I picked up a small box of stock and an inventory list, then I walked back out to the store. I started unpacking the books and putting them on the shelves, before checking them off the inventory.
Normally, I’d be excited to open the boxes of new books. I’d ogle the guys on the covers and read the blurbs on the backs with a giddiness in my heart. Now, since swearing off love at my wedding, I could barely bring myself to look at them. They just didn’t feel like novels anymore. They felt like lies. Designed to trick people into thinking things like romance and happily ever afters existed, so that they’d ruin their lives in the pursuit of something that wasn’t real.
Maybe I should pivot the store’s theme, I mused, and ditch the romance angle altogether. Convert the space into a true crime bookstore, or a sci-fi emporium. Anything but smoochy stories about so-called soulmates. No more brother’s best friends. No more fake relationships. Not a single mountain man, snowed-in, billionaire, secret baby novel in sight.
I rubbed my temples and set the clipboard down on the counter. I took a slow lap around the store, trailing my fingers along the spines of the books.
“Will I ever enjoy reading one of you again?” I sighed.
My phone buzzed. I dug it out of my pocket, knowing exactly who it would be before I even glanced at the screen. Vlad. Again.
I swiped through the barrage of messages, each one more infuriating than the last.
Lily, the insurance company needs the police report.
Is the car fixed yet?
I’m going to be late for band practice if you don’t handle this.
Not an apology. Not an explanation. Not even a half-assed attempt at justifying his actions. Just demands about the damn car, as if I had nothing better to do than clean up his messes.
I wrote a single reply.
The car is mine. Don’t message me again.
I tossed the phone onto the counter, fighting the urge to scream. How could I have been so blind? Vlad was an idiot. He always had been. Even when he’d walked in here one day and proposed to me with that dumb song.
“Love is like a tire fire, burning hot and bright,” he had sung, strumming his guitar out of tune. “We’ll ride the passion highway, baby, all through the night.”
I should have known then. Who proposes with a song about a tire fire?
Tears blurred my vision as I looked around the store, taking in the lackluster displays and haphazard stacks of books. The “New Releases” section featured titles from three months ago, and the “Staff Picks” shelf hadn’t been updated since before the engagement.
“What am I going to do?” I whispered to the empty store, my voice cracking.
Just then, my phone buzzed again, this time with an email.
Despite Ethan’s protests, I’d photographed the destroyed Ferrari at the auto shop and sent it to a garage in Goldharbor Bay. Ethan had refused, point blank, to tell me how much it would cost to fix the damage. I wasn’t accepting that, though. I was going to pay him back if it killed me. After all, how much could it be?
I scanned the email.
My jaw dropped.
Twenty. Thousand. Dollars.
Maybe it would kill me to pay him back.
It felt like I had been hooked up to high-voltage cables. Cortisol pumped through my body, and all my financial panics slammed into my brain one after another.
The stack of unpaid bills hidden beneath the counter.
The deposits for the wedding venue.
The money for the catering.
The fucking flowers. Black lilies.
Rent.
Vlad’s awful suit.
And now, the added expense of repairing Ethan’s car. . . .
Of course, he said he’d claim most of it on insurance. But most of it wasn’t all of it. And I wasn’t letting him pay a cent for the damage I’d caused.
“Okay. Time to get serious.”
Grabbing a notepad and pen, I started jotting down numbers, trying to calculate how much I could realistically afford to pay Ethan each month.
“Let’s see . . . if I cut back on inventory, maybe skip a few book fairs . . .” I mumbled to myself, tapping the pen against my chin. “And if I pick up a few shifts at The Lighthouse Diner, maybe, I could probably scrape together . . . fifty dollars a month? A hundred if I eat mostly vegetables.”
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. I could talk to Ethan, and work out a payment plan. The thought of facing him again made my chest tighten, but I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever. Not if I wanted to make things right.
There was a knock at the door. I looked up, half-expecting it to be Ethan coming in for a macchiato. But it was pretty clear he wasn’t going to be buying any expensive coffees from me after I’d caused him all that damage.
In fact, it was Connie Hart, the manager of Peach and Tree, a hardware store just a few units down from me on Main Street.
I let her in and flipped the sign to “Open.”
“Connie! I was just actually writing a returns note for the wedding gift you gave me,” I said. “Give me a second and I’ll get it for you.”
“A returns note?” Connie looked confused. Ugh, I envied her dress sense. She always looked like the kind of woman who was a private member of a tennis club. Confident, well-manicured, smart. Today, she wore a striking navy blue blazer with high-waisted beige pants and a crisp white blouse. Pretty much all my clothes were second-hand, but somehow, everything Connie owned looked like it had come straight off the shelf.
“Well, we didn’t get married, so . . .”
Connie pushed a stray lock of straw-colored hair behind her ears. “Oh, honey, you keep it. Just don’t share it with Vlad, okay?”
“No, please, I’d feel bad.”
“I insist. If you give it back to me, I’ll just dump a load of free stuff you may or may not want on your doorstep, anyway. You might as well choose some things you like. Now tell me, how are you holding up?”
“It’s been rough. I’ve mainly been eating ice cream. A lot of ice cream.”
“And reading romance novels, no doubt.”
“You know, I actually haven’t. I’m a bit . . . romanced out.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
I pursed my lips. “No. I guess it doesn’t.”
“Well,” she said, clapping her hands together, “you know what they say. The best way to get over a man is to get under a new one.”
I choked out a laugh, feeling my cheeks flush. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet.”
“I’m just kidding.” She grinned. “Although, when you’re ready, you just let me know. I’ve got a nephew who’s single and ready to mingle.” She winked, and I couldn’t help but grin. “Now, I need some romance novels, stat.”
“Right. Sure. Looking for anything in particular?”
“Actually, I want ten books.”
“Ten?” I couldn’t remember Connie ever buying more than one before. Come to think of it, had she even bought one?
“You bet. Choose them for me. Anything will do.” She crossed her arms.
I narrowed my eyes. Something was up. “Anything?”
“You betcha. I want to stock up my shelves. I trust your judgment.”
“Well. Okay. To be clear, you are happy with literally anything?”
“Give me a selection.”
I made her a coffee and got to choosing ten books for her. Normally, I’d have loved a challenge like this, but today, I just went for ten of the most popular books in different romance subgenres and didn’t give it much thought.
Connie paid and left, complimenting me on the coffee and telling me she was always here to talk if I ever wanted to vent. I nodded gratefully and was about to get back to quietly moping when the door swung open again and Elara breezed in.
She was carrying a neat pink and white striped bakery box, emblazoned with the O’Neil’s Bakery logo.
“I come bearing comfort food,” she announced, setting the box down on the counter and flipping it open to reveal a dozen perfectly frosted cupcakes. Then, her gaze flicked up at me. “It’s good to see you wearing colorful clothes again. No offense, but the whole time you were with Vlad you kind of looked like a Victorian widow.”
I chuckled dryly. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to sell quite a lot of black clothing on Depop.”
I looked down at the cupcakes, and my mouth watered at the sight of them. I plucked one from the box, peeling back the wrapper and taking a big bite. The rich, velvety chocolate melted on my tongue, and I let out a moan of pure bliss.
“This is the best thing that’s happened to me in days,” I mumbled around the mouthful of cake.
She grinned and snagged a cupcake for herself, before taking a big bite. “Damn, I’m so glad to be out of the first trimester. I can actually eat without retching again. What a treat. So? How’s the first day back?”
Elara was looking gorgeous. Pregnancy suited her. Her skin had a healthy glow, and her features looked fuller. Her apron accentuated her bump even more, and she had a satisfied look in her eyes that was either due to her impending motherhood or the hot sex she and Cole were having every night. Seriously—she had told me all about their nightly endeavors. Even morning sickness hadn’t gotten in the way of their carnal desires—except for the time Elara puked on Cole’s feet, but that was a one-off.
I shrugged, licking a smear of frosting from my thumb. “As well as can be expected, I guess. The store’s a mess and I’m feeling about as romantic as a dog with the mange.”
“Well, you don’t look like you’ve got the mange. You, in fact, look like a very healthy dog indeed.”
“Thank you.”
“Was that Connie coming out of here with a ton of books?”
I took another bite. “How do you make these taste so fricking good, El?”
“Sugar,” she deadpanned.
“Yeah, it was Connie. She has literally never bought a book from me before. It’s so weird.”
“That is weird.”
Wait. I narrowed my eyes. I knew that look on Elara. Guilt. “You told her to buy books, didn’t you?”
Elara’s face was a mask of forced innocence. “Me? No! Of course not.”
“You did!”
“I mean, I may have mentioned that you might need some help getting back on your feet.”
“You sneaky little goat!” I gently punched her arm.
“Not when I’m eating cupcakes, Lily, this is a very serious issue for me. If anyone stops this cupcake from getting into my stomach, even for a second, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” She paused for a moment. “Any word from Vlad?”
“Ugh. No good words. Just moaning about the fact that I stole the car I paid for.”
“I’m sorry, honey. Things will get better soon.”
“Maybe. Right now, it feels like I’m on a downward spiral.” I pursed my lips and my cheeks burned at the question I was about to ask. “Has, uh, Ethan said anything to you since the crash?”
It was her turn to narrow her eyes. “Whenever you say Ethan’s name, your mouth twitches afterward.”
My heart raced. “El, you remember that time Cole saw you naked on the beach?”
“Yessss?”
I confessed to the shower incident, telling her everything except for the crazy fantasies I’d been having since it happened.
“You have got to be kidding!” she said, putting down her cupcake and covering her mouth in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I guess we were talking about the wedding catastrophe, and the crash and everything.”
“Why were you ripping your dress to shreds?”
“I don’t know what came over me. Just . . . the thought that Vlad had chosen it for me made me feel sick. I wanted to be free of him and the person I used to be—the person who fell for all his lies. I got this urge to destroy it.”
“And then Ethan saw you naked.”
“He saw everything. And he stared.”
“He stared?”
I nodded. “It was like a wolf, staring down a lamb.”
She laughed. “This is too delicious, Lily.”
“Don’t!”
“You know, if this was a romance novel—”
“Don’t you dare finish this sentence! I swear I’ll shove my fingers in my ears and never take them out.”
“Ethan would be the perfect love interest, though! He’s handsome, he’s good with his hands, and he’s already seen you naked. All you need now is a little forced proximity—”
“Stop right there. I’m telling you this because it’s funny and embarrassing and you’re my best friend. There is nothing, repeat nothing, happening between me and Ethan McCoy.”
Elara nodded mischievously. “Oh yeah. Because you’ve sworn off relationships forever.”
“Hey. I’m a grieving bride right now.”
“Vlad didn’t die.”
“He’s dead to me.”
Elara gave me a wicked look. “You know . . . Ethan’s training to be a firefighter.” Her gaze moved to the back of my store, where I had a very special corner devoted to “Blazing Hot Reads.” I’d always had a thing for firefighter heroes. Something about the outfits, the scorching heat, the big, uh, hoses. . .
“He’s what?”
Elara nodded. “That’s right. A big, strong firefighter. Imagine him scooping you off your feet, Lils.”
I looked away from the corner of my store, which frankly needed an update anyway. “He thinks I’m a silly idiot, El. Plus, he’s got a daughter. Plus, he’s way older than me. Oh yeah, and the other day he told me he’s as romantic as a dead fish.”
“You know, this reminds me an awful lot of a conversation we had about me and Cole. Plus, aren’t you all unromantic now, too? You can be dead fish together.” She winked. “Dead fish in love.”
“Ugh, I just need to focus on my own life right now, not pull anyone else into this messy vortex I’ve made for myself.”
Elara smiled kindly. “You’re right, I’ll drop it. In fact, I think you’re right. It’ll be good for you to have a break from relationships. You need to spend some time being happy by yourself. You’re amazing, Lily, and I think Vlad might have made you forget that a bit.” She pushed another cupcake into my hand. “Ethan is also struggling a little, anyway. Maybe it would be a bad time for him.”
“Struggling?” I took a bite of the cupcake. This one was vanilla-strawberry, and like food of the gods.
“He needs childcare. He’s looking for a live-in nanny for Ava so he can be on call to train at night. But it’s difficult because . . .”
A sudden wave of attraction coursed through me at the thought of Ethan in uniform, all rippling muscles and heroism. I pictured him rushing into a burning building, soot streaked across his chiseled jaw as he carried someone to safety. . . .
Elara was still talking, oblivious to my dirty mind. “. . . And of course, I’ll need to rearrange my schedule at the bakery, but I think between me, Cole, and Ida, we should be able to make it work.”
I forced myself to nod along, trying to look like I’d been paying attention. “That’s great, El. I’m sure Ethan appreciates your help.”
“He’d better,” she said with a grin. “I’m sacrificing precious sleep for this. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is growing a tiny human?”
“I have no idea.”
Suddenly, an idea flashed through my mind, so blindingly obvious I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it sooner. I almost spat out my cupcake, but thankfully, I managed to swallow it gracefully. “Elara, I’ve got it!”
She blinked at me, confused. “Got what? The cake recipe? I keep telling you, it’s a family secret.”
I waved my hand impatiently. “No, not the cake. I know how I can pay Ethan back for the damage to his car.”
Elara leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Do tell.”
Sure, I didn’t have any experience being a nanny. And yes, the last time Ethan had seen me, I’d been destroying a wedding dress and screaming. But I was sure I could convince him I was a normal responsible human being.
How hard could looking after an eight-year-old be?
Maybe spending time with Ethan’s kid would keep my mind off his rugged looks and those moments I couldn’t stop replaying in my head. After all, nannies didn’t fall for their kids’ parents—except in romance novels, which I had come to realize were great big lies. And I was only out for the truth from now on.