Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
KRISTA
Friday
Krista was trying very hard to file the night under bittersweet, but really all she had was heartbreak.
A buyer had made an offer on the Hideaway—one she’d be foolish to refuse—and tonight was the last official Cocktail Club. Tomorrow, she’d sign the paperwork, and the Hot Honey Hideaway would become a chapter in her past.
Like Joe already was.
Fairy lights were strung between the trees, casting puddles of gold over the patio. Citronella candles flickered in mismatched jars. The last streaks of sunset bled out behind the pines, turning Bear Lake into a sheet of glass, catching every shimmer of light from the bar.
It looked perfect. It always did.
Krista stood behind the bar, shaker in one hand, bar towel in the other, smiling on autopilot as she poured, garnished, laughed in all the right places.
“Two Hot Honeys, one Spicy Bee, and a Honeyed Old Fashioned,” she called, sliding the drinks across the bar to her friends. “If you’re not at least a little buzzed and sugared by the end of the night, I have failed you.”
Inside, she felt like she was slowly splintering.
She hadn’t spoken to Joe since he’d left Maple Falls. Not really. He’d called a few times, sent texts and photos from Europe. Pictures of market stalls, fountains, and narrow streets that she could almost imagine walking through beside him.
She’d left every message on read.
At first she’d told herself she was waiting until she had the right words. The right photo to send back. Something that said “I’m sorry” and “I miss you” and “I’m trying not to fall apart without you” without actually saying any of that.
Then the days had stretched. The guilt had grown quiet and heavy, like silt at the bottom of the lake. And now he was thousands of miles away, chasing the dream she’d told him to chase without her.
He never said he wasn’t coming back; he didn’t have to. The longer she stayed silent, the more it felt like she’d made the choice for both of them.
This is what you wanted , she reminded herself, wiping a ring of condensation off the counter. You stayed. He went. Everybody did what they were supposed to.
“Hey, Queen Bee, you got another batch of honey margaritas?” Kit called, leaning over the service side of the bar wearing a red beret that matched her Converse.
“Coming right up,” Krista said, her smile still forced.
Kit slid away with a salute.
She looked across the deck at all her favorite people. Everyone she’d ever wanted to build a life around.
And tomorrow, she was going to sign away the place that had brought them all together so many times.
“Last call for s’mores,” Madison called out. “I am not being blamed if you don’t get one and I eat the rest of the chocolate.”
“Oooh, s’more cookies! I should whip some of those up at the bakery,” Emily added, having recently returned from holiday. Krista could imagine how delicious the cookies would turn out. Emily could do wonders with a mixer.
Music hummed low from the speakers—some easy, summery playlist Zoe had thrown on. The whole night thrummed with that end-of-season energy. It was a little wild, a little tired, a bit like clinging to the last warm evening like it might never come again.
Krista topped off someone’s drink, then finally took a moment to stand still. She braced her hands on the bar and let herself really look.
Lights reflected in the lake. Flames danced in the firepit. Fireflies blinked over the grass. The Hideaway—the little place she’d dreamed up in a notebook and turned into something real with paint, sweat, and a frankly unwise amount of credit—breathed like a living thing.
Her throat tightened.
She thought of Isabel’s words, looping through her brain whenever she closed her eyes. Love does not only grant us the freedom to run, but also the courage to stay.
Well, she’d stayed.
She’d stayed for her grandparents, for the campground, for this town. She’d stayed and given up the dream of Europe and the dream of seeing what might become of her and Joe.
Now she had to give up on her dream here too.
Her chest ached like she’d swallowed the whole lake.
“Hey,” Zoe said softly, appearing at the edge of the bar. “You holding up?”
“Of course,” Krista said automatically. “It’s just…end-of-summer emotions. You know me. Big feelings for bonfires and season finales.”
Zoe’s gaze gentled. “You’re allowed to be sad, you know.”
“If I start, I might not stop,” Krista said, forcing a crooked smile. “And then the margaritas will suffer, and we can’t have that.”
Zoe reached out, squeezing her hand once before stepping back. “Fine. For tonight, I’ll let you hide behind tequila and honey. Tomorrow, I’m coming at you with feelings.”
“Terrifying,” Krista said. “Can’t wait.”
Zoe laughed and drifted back toward Jackson.
Krista swallowed hard and reached for the shaker again. Busy hands meant less room for thoughts. Less room for the empty space beside her where Joe should’ve been, shaking cocktails and flirting shamelessly.
The crowd shifted. Music changed. Someone cheered when Kit attempted a fancy pour and almost pulled it off. For a few minutes, Krista let herself get swept up in the rhythm of ice, the tang of lime, the chorus of familiar voices.
She was sliding a fresh drink down to Madison when she heard it.
“Krista?”
Just her name.
Soft, familiar, threaded with disbelief and something that sounded a lot like hope.
Her whole body went still.
For a wild, embarrassing second, she thought she’d imagined it. Her brain, finally cracking, conjuring his voice out of thin air.
Then the noise around her seemed to thin—laughter blurring, music dropping to a distant thrum—and she turned.
He stood at the edge of the patio lights, half in shadow.
Joe.
Travel-worn and sun-browned, hair a little longer, stubble darkening his jaw. Camera strap slung across his chest out of habit. Plain T-shirt, worn jeans, boots dusty like he’d been walking instead of driving .
And he was smiling at her like the sight of her had just knocked the breath right out of his lungs.
The shaker slid from her fingers into the sink with a thunk.
The whole patio seemed to inhale at once.
“Hi,” he said, voice rough around the edges.
Krista’s heart slammed against her ribs.
For one suspended heartbeat, with soft light glowing and Bear Lake catching every bit of their reflection, it felt like the summer was starting all over again.
“You came back,” Krista said when she finally found her voice.
“Course I did.” His voice hitched, a little shaky. “Couldn’t stay away.”
Krista cocked her head, trying and failing to come up with anything clever. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes instead.
Joe took another step forward, close enough now that the fairy lights caught the warm brown of his eyes.
“You see, there’s this place,” he said, voice carrying just enough that the nearby tables could hear.
“A little lake in the Midwest. Surrounded by trees, sunsets that ruin you for anywhere else. And the town? You won’t find a more welcoming place. ”
A few people in the crowd whooped. Someone clinked a glass.
“But what really got me,” he went on, eyes never leaving hers, “was this girl…”
“A girl?” Krista lifted her chin, trying for teasing and landing somewhere near breathless.
“A woman,” Joe amended. “She butchered cowboy coffee and nearly killed me with paddleboards. She stays up too late, works too hard, and tries to save everybody before noon.”
At the nearby tables, their friends suddenly became very busy staring at the lake, rearranging napkins, taking long drinks, anything but looking directly at them.
“She runs this little place on the lake,” he said. “Best cocktail you’ll ever have. And somewhere between photographing her town and falling into her life, I realized…” He drew in a breath. “I am more in love with her than with any job I’ve ever had.”
The patio went very still.
Krista’s heart thudded hard enough that she was sure the entire town could hear it.
“Joe,” she whispered.
“When I got that offer,” he said, speaking to her now, not the crowd, “it was the big one. Europe. Months of trains and planes and little cafés that were supposed to be everything I ever wanted.” He swallowed.
“And I went. I tried. But every market, every fountain, every cobblestone street just made me think of here. Of you.”
Her fingers curled tight around the bar towel.
“So I called my editor,” he said, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at his mouth. “Told them if they wanted me, they had to want all of me. Maple Falls included. We reworked the contract. Shorter stints abroad. A home base here.”
Joe took the last step that brought him flush with the other side of the bar. Close enough that she could see the nervous flex of his jaw, the way his hand tightened once on the camera strap before letting it go.
“I want this to be my home,” he said simply. “I want mornings at the campground and nights here at the Hideaway. I want sand deliveries and storm drains and bees that apparently need to be briefed on all major life events.”
Kit said something, but Krista couldn’t make it out. Her focus was only on him.
“I want you,” he finished, voice low and steady. “Not for a week or a summer or a story. For real. If you’ll have me.”
The air felt thick with emotion. It was a warm, heady sensation.
Krista’s eyes stung, but for once she didn’t try to blink it away. “You’re really here,” she said again, because it felt like the only thing she could manage.
“I am,” he replied. “And this time, I’m not asking you to run away with me.”
He reached out, fingertips resting on the bar between them, an invitation more than a touch.
“This time,” he said, “I’m asking if you’ll let me stay.
Here. With you. We can figure out the rest. The Hideaway, Europe.
All of it. I don’t want you to sell this place.
And before you start listing the reasons why you have to,” he added, like he knew her too well already, “I’ve accepted a job at the campground. Walt offered it to me, and I said yes.”
“You’re working at that campground?”
He nodded. “Around my photography trips and my writing. You don’t have to worry about it anymore. We’re in this together.”
It was ridiculous, how many thoughts could flash through a person’s head in a single heartbeat.
The new offer letter for the Hideaway, still sitting in her inbox.
Her grandparents on the porch.
Robyn in the apartment above the bookshop, already half in love with Maple Falls and maybe with Tyler too. Krista could see her sister was falling for the bookish editor, and he was a big improvement on Professor Beige Cardigan.
She thought about Isabel’s looping handwriting. Love does not only grant us the freedom to run, but also the courage to stay.
And Joe. Standing in front of her in this place she’d built, choosing her. Choosing this.
Krista set the bar towel down.
Her hands shook as she rounded the bar.
Joe watched her come, eyes wide and hopeful.
When she stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, the whole patio seemed to hold its breath .
“I’ve been telling myself I can do the practical thing.
The responsible thing. Sell the Hideaway, tie everything up neatly, make sure Grandma and Gramps are taken care of.
” Her throat tightened. “But I don’t want to.
I don’t want to hand over the keys and watch someone else stand behind my bar.
I don’t want to lose the Hideaway. I don’t want to lose what I built. ”
Her eyes stung, and she didn’t look away. “But most of all, I don’t want to lose you.”
She reached for his shirt, fingers curling in the soft cotton.
“So yes,” Krista said, heart pounding. “Stay. Please stay.”
For a heartbeat, Joe just looked at her, like he was trying to memorize every line of her face.
Then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
The patio erupted. Someone cheered. Madison wolf-whistled. Kit screamed something about “finally,” and Elsie yelled, “This is going in the recap!” which earned her a chorus of “NO!” from at least three directions.
But all of it blurred into background noise.
For Krista, there was only the solid weight of Joe’s hands, the taste of lime and honey and him, the feeling of something inside her finally, finally clicking into place.
When they broke apart, breathless and grinning, he rested his forehead against hers. “So,” he murmured. “You’re not selling the Hideaway just yet?”
She laughed, tears spilling over now, not even trying to wipe them away. “We’ll talk business tomorrow,” she said. “Tonight, I just want to be with my…whatever you are.”
He grinned. “Your guy?”
Her heart did a very undignified swoop. “My cowboy.” She grinned.
“That I can be,” Joe said, kissing her again as their friends whooped around them.