Chapter 3
three
ROWAN
“Rowan,” Addie scolds. “I can handle this. It’s literally my job.”
“I know you can handle it. I’m just trying to help.”
With my trusty clipboard in hand, I scribble down everything that needs to be fixed–shirts, tote bags, coasters, glassware. So many things. If I don’t get a grip on this now, who knows how long it’ll take to fix it all?
I trust my sister, I do, but I can’t help it. My mind keeps telling me that if I don’t fix it, it’s on me. It’s my fault, even if I wasn’t the one who screwed it up in the first place.
“You’re not helping,” she says. “You’re dictating. Relax and trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Addie follows me around the table where all the merchandise is splayed out. She’s right, everything is wrong. The coasters that are supposed to be circular are square. The logo on the shirts that say, ‘Salty Dog’ should be ‘ The Salty Dog.’
“Addie, I love you, but if you really know what you’re doing, how the hell did all this happen?” I don’t look at her as I speak, just focusing on the merchandise and my clipboard.
“Obviously, there was some miscommunication,” she replies, shrugging. “Accidents happen. Things go wrong. It’s part of life. Not everything is going to be perfect.”
I stop what I’m doing and turn to my sister. She has the same dark chocolate hair and blue-gray eyes; it’s like staring into a mirror. Only my sister is five-foot-five. Her thick, wavy hair dances on top of her head in a messy bun as she speaks.
“If you keep acting like this, I’m going to tell Mom.” She points her finger at my chest.
I give her a smart-ass grin and hold the clipboard to my chest. I can feel my hands grip each side of it out of stress that needs to be released.
“Addie, I’m a grown-ass man. Are you really going to tattle like you did when we were young?”
“Being adults won’t stop me from letting Mom and Aunt Rosey know that you are being a controlling asshat who won’t let me handle things.”
My smile falls. I should stop underestimating her.
She wants to go to our mom. Fine, I don’t care. But when she wants to involve our aunt, the one woman who terrifies me, that’s when my attitude changes.
Mom and Aunt Rosey like to play good-cop-bad-cop. My mom is the sweetest woman you’ll ever meet—A true Mary Poppins caretaker. My Aunt Rosey, on the other hand—she’s Ellen Ripley from Alien . A total badass who would take down an entire alien species.
My arms fall to my sides. “That’s just cruel.”
Addie folds her arms and returns that smart-ass grin I was just giving her a minute ago. “We live in a cruel world, my friend.” She holds her hand out, waiting for the clipboard.
I narrow my gaze, and she narrows hers back. I hesitate, but I hand it to her while she still carries that smile. She knows she won and can’t help but gloat.
“Just make sure that you write every little thing that’s wrong with the merch,” I direct. “The t-shirts, the glassware, the tote bags, everything.”
Addie rolls her eyes at me, shaking her head as she turns on her heels and starts to jot down notes.
“Un-freakin-bearable,” she mutters under her breath.
“I heard that,” I call over my shoulder.
I walk to the long, glossy wooden bar and pick up a hand towel, slinging it over my shoulder. Bending down, I start to count all the glasses that are tucked under the bar, the neatly stacked napkins that are on the opposite side, and the coasters we currently have with the logo fading away.
“Please tell me you’re not here because of the merchandise mishap?” A deep voice calls from behind.
I don’t bother to turn around to look at James—one of my best friends. We met in elementary school on picture day, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I had on a pink and white striped polo, and he told me to take it off because I looked douchey.
I didn’t even know what a douche was. I had to ask my mom, who then told me never to say that word again, or I’d get soap in my mouth. I didn’t say it until I turned fifteen years old. And that was to James.
“Are you really that shocked?” I smirk to myself.
I hear him climb up the ladder behind me. “I’m an optimist, Rowan, and I believe that one day you will change your ways.”
“You have so much faith in me. I admire you for that.”
I stand up and turn around, leaning back onto the slick, cool bar counter, crossing my arms. I hear the chalk tapping on the big, wide chalkboard that hangs above the bar. I look up to see James writing down our specials for today.
“Someone has to,” James mutters.
“You shouldn’t want to change your best friend. You should like them for who they are.”
“Not when they self-sabotage themselves.”
“Dude, you have no room to talk, you’re just as bad.”
James gives me the finger over his shoulder before coming back down from the ladder. He may come off as an asshole, but once you get to know him, you learn he has a heart of gold. He’s quiet, reserved, and keeps to himself. Yet women flock to him, and he doesn’t know how to hold a conversation to save his life.
After I became friends with James, I met his younger brother, Beau. It’s like night and day with those two. James is quiet, while Beau likes to be the center of attention.
“Good morning, everyone,” a chipper voice filters from the entrance.
I turn to see Riley, Ellie’s best friend, walking in with a smile on her face. Her shiny blond hair is wrapped in an identical bun to Addie’s, and she’s wearing her usual yoga attire. The sound of her sneakers tapping on the wooden floor causes a slight echo in the empty brewery.
“Why are you in such a good mood?” James asks, pushing a strand of his dark walnut-colored hair out of his face.
Riley sits on a stool in front of us. The giant, purple water jug she carries around makes a thud sound on the counter.
“So, you haven’t heard? I figured,” Riley says, letting out a sigh.
“Heard what?” Addie appears behind Riley and sits on the stool next to her, placing the clipboard on top of the counter.
“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” Riley looks at me with confusion. “She texted me at three in the morning. Maybe she wanted to spare you because, apparently, I don’t need sleep.”
“Who the hell are you talking about?” James asks impatiently.
Riley rolls her eyes at us like we’re the ones being vague about something.
“Ellie!” she exclaims with a smile. “She’s coming home for the summer.”
Addie and James both look surprised by the news. I, on the other hand, try to suppress a giant smile that wants to come out at the sound of her name.
A million feelings are running through me, and I can’t process them this fast. The sound around me starts to fade away while my heart thunders in my chest at the thought of those perfect blue eyes.
The last time I saw Ellie in person was last Christmas. Unfortunately, her boyfriend Charlie was with her, so I had to put on a happy smile and act like I loved the guy. Trying to do that for so many years gets exhausting.
I pull out my phone to see if there are any missed calls or texts. Nothing. The last text from her was a couple of days ago. A photo of two pigeons eating ice cream in a cone that was dropped on the sidewalk. One of the pigeons was completely covered in vanilla ice cream.
I laugh again when I look at the photo. It is truly an incredible sight to see. It’s one of my top five favorite photos that Ellie has sent to me. I turn off the screen and put my phone into my back pocket.
“Why is she coming home?” I ask cautiously, trying not to sound too eager.
Riley lifts her brows and shrugs. “All she said was that she’s coming home for the summer, and she will catch up with all of us when she gets in. Trust me, I called her like a million times. But she didn’t answer any of them.”
Addie looks around at us and says, “I hope everything’s alright with her.”
“I’m sure everything’s fine. She probably just misses being home and wants to see her family and friends,” James states optimistically.
I feel nervous and excited. Nervous because that’s all I am when I’m around her. The girl that I’ve been head over heels for since I was a teenager. The girl that I had until I stupidly decided to let her go when she officially left for culinary school all those years ago.
Me and Ellie, it isn’t in the cards anymore. She's a big-shot pastry chef in NYC and I have a business here, a life here. The last thing I would ever do is get in the way of that, knowing damn well how hard she’s worked to get to where she is.
I remember when she made me a cake after my first girlfriend dumped me. It was my favorite–funfetti with vanilla frosting. She made the frosting from scratch, and when I tasted it, I swear I melted. I didn’t even know food could make you feel weak in the knees, but there I was, completely floored. She didn’t even bother cutting slices–just grabbed two forks from my kitchen, and we ate it straight from the pan, laughing between bites.
She dipped her finger in some of the frosting and put it on my nose when I wasn’t paying attention. I couldn’t get mad even if I tried. Not when she let out a laugh and looked at me with the smile I fell in love with.
I always spotted her small dimple when I made her laugh. She had just the one, but anytime I would see it, I felt like the world got a little brighter.
“Rowan, do you know anything about this?” Addie pulls me from my thoughts.
“Wish I did.” I shrug casually and bite back a smile.