Chapter 6 #3
"I need time," she said.
"I know."
"I don't know what I'm doing."
"Neither do I." He smiled, barely. "But you know where to find me."
She got in the car and started the engine.
He stood there as she backed out of the space, still watching as she turned for the exit. In her rearview mirror, she saw him finally move, walking to his own car with his hands in his pockets.
The drive back to Sea Isle took thirty minutes. Olivia's hands shook on the wheel the entire way.
He'd come here for his own reasons. But he'd reached out to her. Told her what he wanted and left the decision in her lap.
And the terrifying part—the part that made her grip tighten on the wheel—was that she wasn't as guilty as she should be.
She was thrilled.
She tried to remember the walk, what they'd talked about, whether she'd given him any indication. But the details blurred, overwhelmed by the single sharp memory of his hand on her elbow.
On the Parkway, heading north, she realized something else. For two hours on that trail, she hadn't thought about Dan. Hadn't thought about the twins, the house, the marriage she was supposed to be saving.
That shook her too. Not just what Michael had said, but that she'd let herself forget her actual life so completely.
She pulled into the driveway at the rental house and sat there, engine off.
Dan's text from this morning was still unanswered. Miss you. Hope the hike was nice. Call me when you get a chance?
She should call him. She should tell him she loved him, that she missed him too, that they were going to figure this out together.
But her mind kept returning to the trail. The pressure of his fingers through her sleeve. His voice when he'd said I'm here. You're here. Like it was the truest thing he'd ever admitted.
Inside the house, she could hear voices. Lily and Max arguing about something, Meredith calling from the kitchen, the familiar sounds of a vacation in progress.
She had to go in. She had to act like nothing had changed.
But she sat in the car another minute, watching the afternoon light shift across the dashboard, waiting for her breath to steady.
The dinner rush had finally broken.
Sophie wiped down menus at the hostess stand, her feet throbbing in the black flats she'd bought specifically for this job.
The birthday party from the patio had left after two hours and three requests to speak to a manager.
The couple who'd sent back their crab cakes had eventually found something they liked.
Diane had nodded at her on the way to the back office. From Diane, that counted.
Through the front windows, the sky had gone that deep blue that came just before the streetlights kicked on.
She was stacking menus when Ethan came in from outside, bus tub balanced on his hip. He looked tired but focused, head down, getting it done.
"Hey," Sophie said.
"Hey." He paused long enough to shift the tub's weight. "Diane's looking for you. Maria called out, and she needs someone to help break down the patio."
"Got it. Thanks."
He nodded and kept moving toward the kitchen. They'd grown up together, more or less—beach weeks and holidays and the occasional birthday party when their moms coordinated. Not quite siblings, but close. The kind of close where you didn't have to talk unless something was actually happening.
Sophie found Diane in the back office. When she got to the patio, Jake was pulling tablecloths and draping them over the railing.
He looked up when she stepped outside, and something in his expression changed—not the easy grin he used with customers.
Less guarded. He'd changed shirts since the dinner rush—this one was softer, gray instead of black. She shouldn't have noticed that.
"Heard you got drafted," he said.
"I don't mind. The house is full of adults drinking wine on the deck, and I didn't feel like answering questions about my first week."
The patio was scattered with the debris of dinner service—tea lights burned to stubs, napkins that had blown off tables, a kid's crayon abandoned under a chair.
Sophie collected candle holders while Jake worked through the tables.
Her eyes kept drifting to his hands as he folded—quick, confident movements. She made herself look away.
"Question for you," Jake said without looking up.
"Depends."
"Why'd you take this job? You're here for the summer, right? Most people just want to be on the beach."
Sophie set a handful of candle holders on the nearest table. She'd asked herself the same thing during the worst of the rush.
"I needed something separate," she said. "Everyone in that house has their own stuff going on. My mom, her friends. And I just—" She wasn't sure how to finish.
"Wanted to be somewhere they weren't watching?"
"Yeah."
Jake wasn't like the tourist kids who came through—the ones whose parents belonged to the beach club, who treated Sea Isle like a photo opportunity. He belonged here.
Once, between tasks, his eyes drifted to her instead of the linen in his hands. When she glanced over, he went back to folding.
"My boyfriend thinks it's weird," she said. "That I wanted to work. He keeps asking why I don't just relax."
Something crossed Jake's face when she said "boyfriend." Quick, then gone.
"What do you tell him?"
"That I like staying busy." She kept clearing. "But that's not really it."
Jake stopped working.
"He has everything figured out," Sophie said. "Where he's applying to college, what he wants to study, his whole five-year plan. He knows exactly who he's going to be. And I don't. I don't know any of it. But I can't say that to him because he'll want to fix it. Make a plan."
"Some things don't need plans."
"Try telling him that."
They finished the patio without talking. Sophie had opened up more than she'd planned, and Jake hadn't tried to fix any of it.
Inside, Diane was locking up the register. "You two good to finish? I've got to drop my daughter off at a sleepover—I'm already late."
"We've got it," Jake said.
Diane took her keys and left. Sophie found the broom in the supply closet and started sweeping near the hostess stand.
"For what it's worth," Jake said, wiping down the bar, "he sounds exhausting."
Sophie laughed. "He's not. He's just... certain."
"Same thing sometimes."
Her phone buzzed in her apron. She ignored it.
It buzzed again. And again.
She pulled it out. Three texts from Trevor.
Hey, so I've been thinking
What if I came down for a weekend? Maybe Fourth of July?
I miss you and it would be fun to see the beach house
Two weeks ago, she would have been excited. Trevor here, meeting her mom's friends, seeing where she worked, walking the promenade after her shifts.
Now the thought made her uneasy.
"Everything okay?" Jake had paused, rag in hand.
"Yeah. My boyfriend wants to visit."
"That's good, right?"
"Right," she said. "That's good."
She went back to sweeping. Trevor in Sea Isle. Trevor meeting everyone. Trevor asking about her coworkers in that friendly way he had, expecting her to be excited to tell him.
They finished closing in another twenty minutes. Jake walked her out the back. The air smelled like fryer grease and salt, and music spilled out of a bar up the street.
"See you tomorrow?" Jake said.
"Four to close."
"Same." He headed toward wherever he'd parked, keys already in his hand.
Sophie walked home along the promenade instead of cutting through the side streets. Trevor's texts sat unanswered in her phone.
He wanted to see her. Wanted to spend a holiday weekend with her, meet the people in her summer, be part of it.
She should text him back. She didn't.