Chapter 3 Wrenley #4
It’s not a long drive before we stop in front of a weathered building that could use a power wash.
This? I point out the window. This is where we’re getting coffee?
Remi waves a hand. The inside looks better.
The inside does not look better.
Half of it is a touristy knickknack shop, and the other half is furnished with white plastic patio furniture everyone’s aunt had in the nineties with the fake latticing and fear that if you sat on it the wrong way, it would just snap.
Remi turns toward me and Ruger, eyebrows raised in warning. Now that Bonnie knows, you two need to look like you’re obsessed with each other.
Ruger’s jaw tightens, but his hand finds mine and laces our fingers together. The heat of his palm seeps into mine, and the contact is dizzying. I try to look casual, but my skin feels like it’s vibrating.
Remi! Ruger! a voice calls cheerfully from behind the counter.
Now I’m hot. Not from the stress of acting—well, yes, that too—but because Ruger’s hand is in mine, and he’s not letting go.
You okay? Ruger murmurs into my ear, breath warm against my neck.
No. That does not help.
No, I manage, breathless.
He lets go of my hand only to slide his arm around my waist and pull me in close. His fingers rest just above my hip. This is also not helping.
Don’t worry, he says quietly. Walter’s a great guy. We’ll get in and out as fast as we can. Don’t pass out on me, okay?
His voice is gentle, coaxing. I nod because I can’t speak.
Walter must be the man behind the counter, and he spots us immediately.
How’s the Seale crew this morning? he asks as we approach the counter.
Walter’s older, broad through the middle, with silver hair combed neatly back and the kind of permanently amused expression that suggests he’s spent most of his life laughing.
The confident energy speaks of someone who isn’t afraid to insert himself into everyone else’s business for entertainment, and what better place to collect small-town gossip than a coffee shop?
Iced chai, non-fat? he asks Remi.
You know it.
Then Walter’s attention lands squarely on me.
He’s grinning ear to ear.
Well now, he says. So this must be the Canadian fiancée.
Wow. Remi wasn’t kidding. Bonnie works fast.
She is, Ruger says easily. He glances down at me with an adoring gaze I can’t help but melt a little under. Finally got my Wrenley up here.
My Wrenley.
My name hits different when it’s said like a declaration.
Well, I’ll be damned, Walter says, a huge smile on his face. Didn’t think this day would come.
Gee, thanks, Ruger says sarcastically.
You can’t blame me. After the whole Anchorage debacle. He shrugs. I’m surprised you even entertained the idea of a relationship.
Anchorage debacle? I look at Ruger quizzically, who seems to actively avoid my gaze.
The heart knows when it’s right, Ruger says.
Does it, though? Because if that’s true, my heart owes me a written apology for the years I wasted. Good thing he and I are about paperwork and not hearts.
It always butters my sourdough when people find love. The most important question is who’s performing the wedding? Walter asks, but it’s not really a question. He leans in, cupping his ear.
You are, Remi says in a tone that suggests she’s placating him a little bit.
Walter nods. That’s what I’m talking about!
He slides Remi’s drink toward her, and she takes it.
Well, she’s gorgeous, Walter announces loudly enough that two people glance over from a corner booth.
Thanks, I manage, voice thin.
Walter beams at me. What can I get you?
My mind immediately blanks.
Normally, I’d order an iced coffee, but I’ve been freezing since I got here, and it’s obvious, based on the coffee machine at his house, Ruger only drinks hot coffee.
I should probably start adapting, but based on aesthetics alone, I’m not entirely convinced this place serves coffee that doesn’t need some kind of syrup and oat milk combo.
When I don’t immediately answer, Walter must think I’m nervous because he looks to Ruger. You must know her order.
Ruger’s mouth opens. Then closes.
Uh… I prefer when she orders for herself, he says. She’s perfectly capable.
How about I get started on yours, then, Ruger? he says. Cream with a hint of coffee, right?
Har har, Ruger says.
And that’s the moment I find my voice again.
I take my coffee the same as Ruger, I say. Though maybe a little less cream by the sounds of it.
Walter chuckles as he starts pouring mine and Ruger’s coffee.
So, ninety days to get married, huh? he says, passing our coffees over. Reminds me of that show where they marry their foreign partner, or they’re forced to leave.
Yeah, the three of us say in eerie unison, but none of us look at each other, as though eye contact could be used against us in a court of law.
Great show.
Remi looks surprised. I never took you for a reality show fan.
Walter leans in closer. On the record, it’s my wife’s choice. Between us? I’m the one who cues it up.
The drama is addicting, Remi says.
I nod in agreement, while Ruger looks between the three of us like we’ve completely lost our minds.
Have you noticed lately they’ve been leaving in the first-night scenes a little long? he asks. I’m kind of enjoying it.
Remi nearly chokes on her latte. Walter!
Beside me, Ruger shakes his head.
Don’t act scandalized, he says. It’s not like we didn’t know that’s what they were going to do. It’s healthy after being apart for so long.
I press my lips together, trying not to laugh, because while Remi looks amused, Ruger looks like he’s about one more comment away from walking out of here. But I’m warming up to Walter. I kind of love that he says unfiltered things with the exact same tone most people use to discuss the forecast.
So, what do you think of the town so far? Walter says, turning his attention on me.
It’s beautiful, I say. But I’ve been here before, so I already knew that.
Walter’s mouth drops as he looks at Ruger and Remi. Why is this the first time I’ve met her?
I had other plans for her, Remi says. It was a four-day trip, and don’t forget that she had to fly into Anchorage, so that ate up some time.
Walter turns back to me. Well, it sounds like you’re just getting the true town experience now.
I guess so, I say with a smile.
Make sure they take you to the beach with the glass floats, Walter says.
That’s lame, Remi says.
It’s interesting, Walter retorts, then looks at me. The Japanese used glass floats in commercial fishing called ukidama, and they’ve washed up on shores all along Alaka.
Yeah, we have that in BC too, I say. There’s been a lot found on Vancouver Island.
They’re cool, right? Walter says.
Absolutely.
Walter points at me, beaming. See! He pumps his fists in the air. Vindicated.
I laugh softly, then take a sip of the coffee, and… holy shit.
I stare at the paper cup in genuine disbelief. Okay, this might be the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.
Walter smiles proudly. Well, thank you. Then he winks. And welcome to Alpine Harbor, Wrenley. I hope to see more of you.
We head back outside, and I make a beeline for the truck, but Remi whistles. Let’s go to the docks.
I blow out a breath. I want to go home.
No. Wait. Ruger’s house. Home? Definitely Ruger’s house. Anything other than that is crossing a line I don’t want to cross.
We follow Remi down the street. After a few… let’s call them blocks, we cross the road and take a short path to a cliffside bench overlooking the ocean. The mountains are jagged and untamed, like the state itself.
There are two cruise ships docked, and seagulls circle overhead, crying out. The smell of salt and brine fills the air as people travel from shop to shop.
I imagine this must be prime time for these businesses. When I came in the winter, Remi said there wasn’t a lot open, but right now, this town feels kind of bustling.
Well, Remi says as we sit near the docks, ensuring that Ruger and I are beside each other, that could’ve gone worse.
Ruger huffs quietly beside me. Bonnie worked quickly.
You know why she went to Walter first, Remi says. If she gets Walter, she gets Walter’s wife, and Mavis is the second-biggest gossip in town.
I groan into my cup. I feel like a celebrity, but like a D-list one who got caught eating a hot dog off the ground.
Remi laughs. At this point, I think we just have to laugh.
I’ll leave that to you, Ruger says before taking a sip of his coffee.
Oh, come on, it’s funny, Remi insists. You pretending to be romantic? It’s entertainment in its purest form.
Remi.
No, seriously. I’m obsessed with this.
I laugh despite myself.
Then Remi looks between us.
Okay, but if we’re being honest? she says. You two still act like co-workers.
Aren’t we basically co-workers? Ruger mutters under his breath.
See? Remi points at him. That right there. Very emotionally unavailable fiancé energy.
I snort into my coffee.
Let’s start simple, she says. Try sitting a little closer together.
I scoot toward Ruger.
Wow, Remi deadpans. Scandalous.
Ruger rolls his eyes but drapes an arm across the back of the bench.
There, Remi says smugly. Now you at least resemble people who have voluntarily touched before.
We sip our coffees as a cruise ship glides through the water.
Ruger looks perfectly at ease beside me, with his eyes following the cruise ship as it moves through the water.
Meanwhile, I’m still feeling a little overwhelmed by how quickly news travels around here and the warmth radiating from his arm that’s barely touching me but still has my stomach fluttering.
Is that Ruger Seale? a gravelly female voice calls out.