16. June #2
“Sophie!” I physically push her toward the till as I shoot over my shoulder, “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”
Ashton smiles in that fond way that makes me want to shirk all my responsibilities and leave with him immediately. “Good luck!”
We scrape through. Barely.
Warren even captures a few good shots of Sophie serving locals with her movie star glow and Meredith with her sleeves rolled up, focused through her usual scowl. I’m even in one, smiling next to a tray of lobster rolls as if I haven’t spent the last six hours convincing myself not to cry.
When it’s over, and the last of the customers has left with their paper-wrapped sandwiches and their polite compliments, I lean against the counter and exhale. “Well, we didn’t die,” I say.
“Speak for yourself,” Meredith mutters, still clearly smarting from our previous argument.
Sophie groans. “Do I have to put you both in a timeout?”
I should apologize, but we’re all exhausted. Physically and emotionally. Launching into an extensive conversation about feelings is just a recipe for disaster. So instead, I offer the only olive branch available. “Birdie’s?”
The three of us trudged in just past eight, too exhausted to even fake smiles, still bearing the marks of the day on our clothes—grease smudges, lobster juice, and at least one mystery stain I’m choosing not to analyze.
“Whoa,” Eddie says when he spies up. “Do I even want to ask?”
“No,” Meredith mutters, dropping onto a stool and burying her face in her arms.
“Dear God,” Sophie breathes out, flopping down beside her. “Why did we think we could run that place by ourselves?”
“Because we did,” I remind them, easing onto the third stool with significantly more grace than I feel. “Once. Sort of.”
“I feel like fewer tourists were yelling about gluten back then,” Meredith says, voice muffled in the crook of her arm.
Eddie raises an eyebrow and sets three neat glasses of something golden and promising in front of us without asking. Sophie’s already sipping before I can warn her how liberal Eddie is with his pours.
He watches us closely, leaning a little too hard on the bar when he looks at Meredith. “You okay?” he asks softly.
“I’m fine,” she answers, way too fast.
He doesn’t press; he just gives a tight nod and backs away, wiping at the already clean counter. But I notice the way his eyes linger a second too long, as if he knows she’s lying.
Sophie, meanwhile, is scrolling through her phone with growing distress. A quick glance over her shoulder gives me a clear view of the countless messages she’s received during the day—before she notices and quickly pulls away from me with a warning look.
For a while, we sit in silence. The quiet kind, where everyone’s pretending not to be sinking in their own version of emotional quicksand. Eddie leaves to handle someone else, and I can feel the heaviness settling around us again like fog rolling in over the harbor.
So, I do the only thing I can.
I lean forward, cradle my whiskey in both hands, and say, “Okay. So, I might have an investor.”
Both heads whip toward me.
“What do you mean by might?” Meredith asks slowly.
I clear my throat, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“I mean, I’ve been talking to this guy—he’s in hospitality, really legit—and he’s interested.
We’ve had a few calls. I sent him the early pitch deck.
He loves the Shack’s legacy, the brand, and the family angle.
But he wants to see us run it for a bit first. Like a test run.
More photos, maybe a few events, to show we’ve got staying power. ”
Sophie’s eyes widen. “That’s huge. Is that the guy that came in today?”
I can feel the defensiveness already rearing its ugly head, and I try my best to suppress it. “No.”
Of course, Meredith picks up on it and straightens up immediately. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Because I didn’t want to jinx it. And we barely survived today,” I admit. “But…if we can get through the next few weeks, I think he’s in.”
For a second, there’s a flicker of something between us. Not quite hope, but something like it.
“Okay,” Meredith says finally, nodding with a tentative smile—a real one, finally. “We can work with this.”
And just like that, the fear creeps back in. So much now relies on promises I can’t be certain I can keep.
Eddie returns just in time to lift our spirits, offering a relieved look when he notices some of the tension has eased. I see him watching Meredith again when he thinks I’m not paying attention, and it makes my heart ache a little.
I can barely stomach the rest of the whisky before I find a chance to casually excuse myself. I’m not sure how convincing my smile is when I say my goodbyes, but no one presses me about it. I need fresh air and the silence of the cab ride home.
And the man already waiting for me by my front door, the key I gave him dangling from his fingers.
“You know, it’s warmer inside the house,” I say on approach.
Ashton shrugs as he hops down from the porch to meet me halfway. I’m lucky Jetties Beach is pretty quiet this time of night, or else the neighbors would surely be twitching their curtains around now.
“I wanted to look at the stars a bit.” He pulls me in close to his chest in greeting. So very warm and so very comfortable. It takes me a moment to remember to look up.
Sure enough, the June clouds have cleared to reveal clear July skies. Countless stars seem to multiply the longer you look. Mesmerizing as always, but the kind of miracle you grow used to after thirty years. Still, I wouldn’t spoil Ashton’s enjoyment by mentioning it.
No, I’ve always felt more comfortable when the sky was truly dark.
“Are you okay?” Ashton’s voice is muffled by my hair.
I shake my head. “No.”
The silence drags on, but the comfort of the embrace remains steady. I allow myself to be held, briefly shifting the weight of the world onto someone else. Then, without warning, my legs suddenly give out, and I awkwardly collapse into him.
“Come on,” he says softly. “Let me get you cleaned up.”
He guides me back to the house and unlocks the door with his keys. As if it’s second nature, as if he’s done it countless times. As if he’s inviting me into his house, not the other way around.
I sag into him when the door opens, and the familiar warmth greets me with open arms.
And if he has to carry me bridal style over the threshold, no one needs to know but us.