Chapter 12
chapter twelve
Reid
Summer crowds in Cedar Point are always a lot to handle. Families, singles, groups, kids at summer camp, people towing boats and jet skis…it’s an eventful time around town.
The fireworks show in our little community is recognized throughout the region—hell, throughout the state—for being one of the best. A massive floating dock is motored out to the middle of the lake, manned with about a dozen or so pyrotechnics experts and a few firefighters, and at nine PM on the dot, once the sun has finally fully set behind the crest of the mountains, the sky gets set on fire for about fifteen minutes. It’s bright, powerful, and loud as hell as the booms ricochet off the walls of trees and reverberate around the lake.
Understandably, a show of our caliber is an even larger draw than any other period during the summer, resulting in almost every hotel, B&B, campsite, and guestroom completely maxed out and the city pushed to capacity when it comes to resources. Residents are warned weeks in advance to have a spare tank or two of gas and to stock up on grocery necessities. Some locals even go out of town to avoid the masses, not wanting to deal with the traffic or congestion that happens in almost every corner of Cedar Point.
As exhausting as the holiday can be, I never complain, because from a business perspective, it’s the most profitable week of the year. From the moment we open the door at eight in the morning until we shut down at eight PM—an intentionally long day to capitalize on the foot traffic around Main Street—we have customers. And not just people wandering around to escape the heat. They’re active, interested, paying customers. Something about visiting a small mountain town turns everyone into a rustic furniture connoisseur, imagining their own fireplaces back home bookended by two leather chairs made from locally sourced wood.
“Heather, can you write up an invoice for that gentleman looking at the bookshelf against the wall?” I ask, digging around underneath the register, looking for a pen. “I have to help a customer load up a chair into their RV back at the shop.”
She nods. “Can do. Also, I think it’s time for Jen to leave for the day.”
“Ask her to stay another hour and I’ll pay her time and a half?”
Heather smirks. “You’re already paying us time and a half.”
“Double time, then. You’re the best!” I toss over my shoulder as I hustle through the back door that exits to a small alleyway behind the row of shops along Main Street.
The shop where I design and craft the furniture for the storefront is only a few minutes’ walk, and in almost no time, I spot the obnoxiously oversized RV parked outside.
“Thanks so much for sorting this out today,” the guy says. “My wife and I have to head back home really early tomorrow, and I know she was just so in love with that loveseat.”
I grin at him. “No worries, man. Happy to help.”
It doesn’t take much time for us to hoist the piece from where I stored it a few days ago, when this gentleman and his wife first visited the store and reserved it, and get it tucked in through the side door of his RV. Once it’s done, we shake hands and he heads out, leaving me with a few blissful moments of quiet alone in my shop before I lock up and head back.
Technically, it’s more direct for me to take the alley all the way back to Cohen Custom, but I glance at my watch, knowing I made quick work with that load-up, and instead head out onto Main Street to take in the crowds. It’s just as busy at the south end of the street, away from the lake, as it is near my end. The brewery is packed with customers filling the patio to the brim. There are pop-up tents in the street, which has been closed off to cars and limited to just foot traffic. It smells like sunscreen and popcorn and beer and hot asphalt, and I smile as I stroll slowly through the crowd.
When I get to Happily Ever After Bookstore, I stop, stepping up onto the curb and over to the small shop, glancing through the door as a customer exits, a bag of books in hand. Then I give in to the desire to poke my head in, stepping through the door and into the shop itself. I immediately spot Busy, standing at the register and chatting with a customer, a smile wide on her face as she rings up a purchase.
“Misery!”
I laugh when Junie suddenly appears at the back of the store, waving wildly. I wave back just as wildly, and she sprints my way, launching herself into my arms as if she’s jumping off the dock back at the lake.
“Hi, Miss Junie,” I say, lifting her up and giving her a hug.
“Is my birfday!” she says loudly, raising her arms in the air, her hands in fists, an almost maniacal smile on her face.
I spin her around in a circle. “It is! Happy birthday! Are you two today?”
She nods dramatically.
“You are such a big girl!” I tell her, just as dramatically, then turn, looking toward where I know Busy is standing behind the register. “Did you know Junie is turning two today?”
Busy rolls her eyes, but her smile is stretched wide across her face as she puts a stack of books into a blue tote bag then thanks her customer.
The woman grins at Junie and me before she says, “Excuse me,” and slides past us toward the door.
“Could you two be any louder?” Busy jokes, rounding the counter and walking our way. She tickles Junie’s bare foot where it dangles. “Huh?”
Junie squeals with laughter again, and I crouch down, setting her on the ground where she promptly races off through the store, toward where I can see Patty Mitchell talking with Briar at the back. I wave when they spot me, and they both wave back before returning to their conversation.
“So, how’s the day going?” I ask, glancing around, spotting at least five…no, six customers looking at titles on the shelves or flipping through open books in their hands.
“Really good, actually. Briar said we’ve already surpassed her stretch goal for opening day sales, so…we’ll see how it looks when we tally the final number.”
In my peripheral vision I see Patty and Junie walking our way, with Junie dragging her grandmother by the hand as fast as she can.
“Goodness, this one has already had too much sugar,” Patty says as they come to a stop next to us.
“She’s going to be a nightmare later, I’m sure,” Busy jokes, bending down and picking her daughter up then placing her on one hip. “Because someone is getting a special chocolate cake for her birthday!”
Junie starts clapping, that slightly loony smile returning, and I can’t help but laugh.
“We’re having a party today at six,” Patty says. “You’re welcome to join us. We’re doing a barbeque and cake.”
I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, Busy interjects.
“Mom, Reid has more important things to do than eat chocolate cake.” She laughs as she says it then looks at me with an apologetic expression. “Don’t let her guilt you. She’s very good at getting people to do things they don’t want to do.”
There’s nothing sassy in the way she says it, but it still strikes something in my chest.
“Oh, honey, if that were true, my days mothering five teenagers would have been a lot easier,” Patty says, giving me her own look of exasperation as she takes Junie out of Busy’s arms. “Alright, well…if you change your mind, you know where we’ll be. Say goodbye, sweetheart.”
“Bye Misery!” Junie says, waving wildly again.
“Wish us luck as we brave Main Street,” Patty jokes, winking at me before the two of them leave the store and head outside, disappearing into the crowd.
“I seriously love that she calls you that. I laugh almost every time.”
I nod. “I do, too.”
“So, how are things at your shop?”
“Good. I actually have to get back, but I hope the rest of the day goes great,” I tell her, backing away and heading for the front door.
Her smile dips slightly before it reappears like nothing changed. “Thanks for coming to say hi.”
I wave then step out into the thrall, rubbing at the center of my chest as I walk the short distance to my own shop a few doors down. Patty was just being kind, inviting me, and Busy was just trying to protect my free time, assuring me I didn’t need to go. Still, hearing her imply that Junie’s birthday isn’t something I want to go to…it didn’t sit right.
I watch the clock for the rest of the afternoon, as the day ticks along and the store stays busy. At quarter to five, I flip the sign at the front, making the decision in the moment. Then I spend a few minutes letting the customers wandering around know we’ll be closing at five.
“We’re closing?” Heather asks, her eyebrows high on her head.
I nod. “Yeah. If you want the hours, you’re welcome to keep working. There’s some paperwork and inventory that needs to get done, and I know holiday pay isn’t something a lot of people want to miss out on, but…” I shrug. “I think it’s time to close for the day. Besides, I have somewhere I want to be.”
It might be ridiculous, closing several hours early for a two-year-old’s birthday party, but I don’t feel even the tiniest bit guilty. Even if it impacts the bottom line, I know I’m making the right choice.
Once the store is empty and Heather has taken off—gleeful about her suddenly free evening—I shut off the lights, lock up, and hustle home to grab the birthday gift I made for Junie last week. I planned to give it to her at some point this weekend, but this will be even better.
I do my best to ignore the voice that says I hope Busy likes it, too.
Even if it is the truth.
Growing up, I was kind of peripheral friends with the eldest Mitchell kid, Boyd. Friends of friends, sometimes overlapping hangouts. Which is why after thirty-two years in this small town, I’ve only been over to their house once or twice.
So when I pull up out front a few minutes after six, parking in the grass next to the driveway alongside several other cars, I take a long minute to just…look at it. It’s massive, far larger than the three-bedroom I grew up in, though that makes sense when considering there had to be enough beds for seven people. There’s a four-car garage and a detached in-law unit, and I can see the lake stretched out behind it.
This. This is the kind of house I wanted as a kid.
I hoist Junie’s present out of the back seat and sling it over one arm then head to the gate on the side, figuring based on the music and laughter I can hear that everyone is out back. Once I push through, my guess is proven accurate when I spot the dozen or so people scattered around holding beers or hanging out near the barbeque. Junie is down at the dock, sitting between Patty’s legs, her feet dangling into the water.
My eyes scan over everyone until I finally spot Busy, emerging from the house with a bag of hot dog buns and crossing to where her dad is manning the grill. God, she’s gorgeous. Not for the first time, I watch her from afar, taking in her sweet smile and casual beauty. Everything about her is effortless.
Of course, it’s as I’m admiring her that her eyes find mine.
She freezes.
Suddenly, I feel self-conscious showing up unannounced, like maybe I overstepped somehow. There aren’t a ton of people here, and the ones who are have a very clear connection to the Mitchell family. I don’t really know how I fit into that. Or if I do at all, in truth.
But then she changes course, heading my way, hot dog buns still in her hands.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as she approaches, a wrinkle in her brow, and from this distance, I can’t tell if she’s happy to see me or not.
I shrug. “Just wanted to make sure Junie got her present on her birthday.”
Busy’s eyes flick to where I have the wooden rocking horse under one arm. I set it down in the grass, the weight beginning to be too much to hold on my own any longer.
“If you want, I can just drop it off. I don’t have to stay.”
As if my words have tugged her out of a trance, she takes a few more steps forward and envelopes me in a hug, her arms wrapping around my middle and her face tucked against my chest.
I only delay for a second, having been caught by surprise, before I wrap my arms around her as well, reveling in the way it feels to finally have her petite frame tucked against mine. I could stand here all day, holding her like this, and the most natural thing in the world would be to dip my head and press my lips to the crown of her head, to inhale the sweet smell of whatever that jasmine stuff is that she wears.
But then I glance around, and I realize there are more than a few pairs of eyes aimed our way.
Clearing my throat, I release Busy and take a step back. She does the same, though when her gaze finds mine again, I imagine the slightly dazed look on her face matches my expression.
“I’m glad you could come,” Busy says, licking her lips and taking a deep breath before letting it out in one go. Then she motions in the direction of the grill. “We’re just finishing up the hot dogs, if you want one.”
Another food I haven’t had in forever. Who knows what goes into the making of a hot dog, anyway? I chuckle internally, acknowledging that at least it’s not neon.
“I’d love one,” I tell her. “Is there somewhere I can put this for now? Until I can give it to Junie?”
Busy nods, taking a few steps back, in the direction of where she was walking toward the grill a few minutes ago. “Yeah, you can just take it inside. Through the sliding doors and anywhere in the living room is good.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She smiles then spins around, and I do the same, heading in the opposite direction. When I lug the rocking horse off the grass and onto the porch, I nod hello at Busy’s sisters where they’re sitting together on the patio.
“Let me grab that for you,” Briar says, hopping out of her chair and crossing to slide the door open for me.
“Thanks.”
I step into the blissfully air-conditioned home, wishing not for the first time that my cabin had a window unit or something to keep me somewhat cooler during the summer.
“You don’t realize how hot it is until you step into somewhere that doesn’t feel like the face of the sun,” I joke to Briar as I cross through the kitchen and set the rocking horse down in the corner of the living room.
“My friend Abby and I used to live in the cabin Busy’s in now, before you moved into the other one. I do not envy the way either of you are probably absolutely baking right now.”
I grin, resting my hands on my hips, my eyes darting around briefly and taking in the photos on the walls and the lake life décor scattered about.
“Can I ask you something?”
My eyes return to Briar, finding her watching me with a curious expression.
“Something very personal?”
I squint slightly, considering, and then I nod, crossing my arms.
“Sure. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer, though.”
“That’s fair.” Briar’s lips twist slightly and she rests her hip against the couch, watching me intently. “Why did you and Sarah get divorced?”
I blink, my eyebrows rising. “You’re right. That is a personal question.”
“And if I wasn’t wondering what you’re doing with my sister and my niece, I wouldn’t have asked it.”
“Busy and I are just friends,” I tell her, the words feeling wrong on my tongue. “That’s all.”
Briar nods but then glances at the rocking horse before her soft gaze returns to mine, waiting for me to answer her question.
Licking my lips, I tuck my hands into my jeans and shrug my shoulders. “It just didn’t work out.”
“Why?”
Chuckling uncomfortably, I shake my head. “Because…Sarah and I wanted our future to look a certain way, and when that reality changed, it wasn’t fair to her for me to hold her in a relationship anymore.”
“That’s incredibly vague.”
“And more than I’ve ever said to anyone about why we got divorced, so it’ll have to do.”
She hums quietly, and I wonder what she’s thinking. Does she think I’m full of shit? Or that I’m a cheater? That’s always been my biggest fear, that people in town will think I did something bad or hurt Sarah in some way, and that’s why we split. In reality, it’s the exact opposite, though I can’t really control what other people think. A hard truth to learn as you get older, but one you become more accepting of.
“We’re just friends, Briar,” I repeat. “That’s all we can ever be.”
Briar assesses me for another beat before she nods, and I can tell when whatever kind of interrogation hat she put on temporarily has been removed. Her shoulders ease and her arms drop from where they were crossed in front of her.
“Well, then. If that’s really all it is…I’m glad she has a friend like you.” She turns, heading back toward the sliding doors leading out to the porch. “Let’s eat, yeah?”
I let out a long breath and follow in her wake, though I come to a stop when she pauses just before opening the door.
“But if you did decide to be more than friends, I think a man like you could be exactly what Busy needs.”
I blink, surprised by her approval, though I don’t say anything in response as she pulls the door open and steps outside. It takes me a few seconds to follow behind her, and when I emerge into the unforgiving sun and humidity, I find that everyone is surrounding a table on the deck, putting together their plates of food.
My eyes find Busy’s immediately, bright and happy to see me, before they lock on Junie, who is snacking happily on a hot dog bun as she sits on Busy’s hip.
Just friends.
Just friends.
Just friends.
I repeat it over and over in my mind, like a mantra, a reminder I need to live and breathe for as long as I am lucky enough to be in Busy and Junie’s lives.
I wasn’t lying when I told Briar friends is all Busy and I can ever be. The smarter thing would be to not even allow that, because I can’t be around Busy and not be just…overwhelmed by her. Fascinated by her. Captivated with her.
The truth is I wish what we had was more.
The truth is if I could give her more, I would do it in a heartbeat, would give her my heartbeat, my very last breath.
But I can’t. I can’t do that to her.
It wouldn’t be fair.