Chapter 4
four
ELLIE
The road stretches out ahead, empty–not a car in sight. My windows are down, causing the wind to tangle through my hair, and my hand slices through the air. The sun beats down on my side of the car, warm against the glass, almost too hot when it touches my skin.
To reach Dove Point, the road winds up a steep hill flanked by nothing but nature. The view stretches out, just the road ahead and birds singing as if greeting you. There are tall trees that rise on either side, their branches wide and protective, while the grass gleams bright and green in the sunlight. Once I reach the top of the hill, I park on the side of the road, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as I come to a stop.
I step out of the car, my body aching from the long drive from New York and back home to the West Coast. Stretching my neck, I work out the tension in my shoulders, then lean back against the car door, lifting my face to the sun. The warm, soothing rays feel like a rare moment of peace.
The drive’s been relentless–just bathroom breaks and quick coffee stops. Audiobooks and music have been my only companions, hours ticking by as I try to push Charlie and work out of my mind.
I didn’t want to stop overnight. No time for rest. So, here I am, running on empty, my last cup of coffee a distant memory from seven hours ago. Sleep? It hasn’t come since Charlie shattered everything. Every time I close my eyes, I see him–his body tangled with hers, and my mind won’t let me forget it.
I always thought people who enjoyed road trips were insane. Stranded in a car for more than a day. With enough motivation and willpower, anyone can certainly do it.
I can see everything from the top of the hill. Even though I would need binoculars to see the small town, there is one view that pops out, and that is the bright blue ocean and the white waves crashing in. When I look over the town, I can see all the houses scattered like little dots.
I can hear the waves crashing to the surface if I concentrate hard enough. If I take a deep breath and focus on the scents, I can be taken in by different smells: fresh flowers, newly sprouted tree leaves with fresh redbud, and a hint of saltwater.
Closing my eyes, I face off with the sun, and I soak in this peaceful moment before getting back into the car and driving into town.
I try to remember the last time I’ve felt this at peace. The last time, it was quiet . I’ve gotten used to the consonant sounds in the city. Trains, car horns, people yelling. My own mind has become chaotic, never giving me a moment of silence. If it wasn’t the city being loud, it was my own thoughts about work crashing around in my head. The next dish, the next review, the next event.
But I don’t want to feel trapped or anxious. I’ve been extremely lucky to do what I love–creating dishes that draw people from all over the world at a prestigious restaurant called The Red Table. It’s a dream come true, and I made it happen. On top of that, the restaurant owner has presented me with a lifetime opportunity, one I still haven’t decided how to approach or told anyone about.
After two years of culinary school, I decided to stay for another two years to continue my education with some of the great culinary chefs. The crème de la crème of the pastry world. I couldn’t pass up the chance when I was given the choice. Either graduate or continue with the best. So, I stayed.
Leaving Dove Point behind was the hardest decision I had to make. I went back home for a couple of weeks to talk to my parents about it because their opinion meant everything to me. I wanted to make them proud, and they were one hundred percent supportive of it all. Even my brother, August, and our friends.
But the one person who mattered the most would make or break the decision. Rowan. The boy I fell for at sixteen. The boy who finally asked me out when we were seventeen. The person that I planned on being my forever.
I still remember the conversation like it was yesterday. I try not to look back on that day. There was a moment I thought he was going to say, ‘ fuck it’ and come with me. Start a new life together in New York. Instead, he nodded his head after I told him everything. He didn’t look me in the eye. ‘I understand’ was the only thing I got from him.
When I came back to New York, I fought with myself, wondering why I wasn’t the one who told him to come with me. I just thought he would be the one to make that decision, and I regret never building up my own courage to ask him. I always wonder if he would have said yes and what would have happened between us.
We’ve stayed friends. Close friends. We didn’t want to lose that part of our relationship. At first, it was hard, and we didn’t speak to each other for a year. Two years after living in the city, I went back home for the holidays, and there was Rowan.
He looked…different. Grown. A man and not a boy. He had scruff all along his cheeks and jaw. His shoulders were broader, and his arms were covered in tattoos. Riley threw a holiday party, and when I saw him across the room, it felt like the world stopped spinning, my breathing escaping me.
We both stood still, looking at each other. It took a lot of liquid courage to finally talk to him and to my surprise, our conversation was easy, like we never stopped talking. Picking up right where we left off.
I pass the welcoming sign reading, Welcome to Dove Point Est. 1801. Population 10,000.
Slowly entering the town, I look around at the familiar buildings that I grew up shopping or hanging out with friends when there was nothing else to do.
The brick sidewalks come together with the storefronts. White light poles are snuggled between trees going down the curb. The town is small, and everybody knows everybody, no matter how hard you try to keep your life private.
I pass all the connected shops: small square buildings, chalkboard signs displayed out front, doors propped open, inviting anyone in.
The coffee shop tables outside were filled with people enjoying the weather or working on their laptops. A group of people nod their heads to the beat of a guitar being played by a man.
I stop at Ashburn Road and see my favorite little ice cream shop with a sign across the top of the roof that says Ollie’s . It’s an A-line shack with a yellow roof, white body, and painted ice cream covering the walls.
They have the best hot fudge sundaes. Homemade vanilla bean ice cream. Hot fudge zigzagged across it, a tower of whipped cream sprinkled with nuts, and a cherry on top.
When I was a little girl, I was excited to do my chores because, after I received my allowance, I would skip my way straight to Ollie’s, rewarding myself. There’s no indoor seating–just the workers behind the counter. Customers place their orders at the window, standing outside. I used to have to stretch up on my tiptoes just to peer over the ledge to place my order.
While I look at the line of people getting ice cream, I hear a woman call out my name. Before I pulled into town, I folded down the soft top of my car, turning it into a convertible. I was willing to risk people stopping me to talk, even though I’ve got no energy and no coffee.
Dove Point is slightly gossipy.
“Ellie! Oh my gosh, is that really you? I can’t believe it’s been so long! How have you been? Are you back in town for a visit?” Beatrice, Mrs. Anderson, exclaims.
She’s a vibrant artist who owns Art Fusion, the local gallery. With her spiky gray hair, thick tortoiseshell glasses, and mango-colored overalls paired with Dr. Martens, she somehow pulls off a look that defies age. At sixty, she’s as unapologetically herself as ever, embracing her passions with every step.
“Hi, Mrs. Anderson.” I nod before saying, “Yep, I’m here for the summer. I just got in.”
“Oh, how wonderful! I just saw your mom a couple of days ago, and she didn’t mention anything.”
And that’s because I didn’t tell her,
Or my dad. Or my brother August. No one knew I was coming home. I can only hope that word of my arrival doesn’t reach my parents before I have a chance to tell them myself. I should have kept the damn car top on.
“Well, here I am.” I smile at her and force out a laugh.
“I’m having an art show soon. Would you be around to make those amazing peanut butter chocolate squares? Of course, I would pay.” She beams.
I open my mouth, waiting for words to tumble out, then close it. My plan was to not work and pick up any type of baking tool. But everyone knows I can’t say no. I’m also living off my savings, which is not much, so extra money wouldn’t hurt.
“Sure, I’d love to. I can swing by in the next couple of days, and we can talk?”
Mrs. Anderson claps her hands once in delight before saying, “Wonderful! We’ll talk soon! It is so good having you back here, Ellie. Tell your parents I said hi,” she says cheerfully.
I smile and nod, waving goodbye as I start to drive away.
“Will do,” I mutter to myself and then sigh.
As I drive through downtown, I spot the brewery in the distance. My heart starts to speed up for a multitude of reasons.
For one, I’ve only let Riley know that I was coming home. She texted and called me a million times after I told her, but I didn’t pick up or respond because I wanted to wait until we were all together.
And second, Rowan. Our friendship has always been different, deeper, than with anyone else. We just get each other. He’s my best friend…and, well, my ex. When we broke up, it wasn’t messy—no hard feelings. We both knew it was for the best, and we wanted to salvage our friendship. Thankfully, we’ve done just that.
I love Charlie, and right now, I hate that I still do. But Rowan has always taken up a large part when it comes to my heart. He was my first teenage love. My first kiss. My first, well, everything .
Taking a deep breath, I turn into the lot connected to the brewery and turn off my car, needing to take a minute to myself before walking in there. I try to mentally prepare myself. Addie, Hailey, and Riley will freak out, but I don’t want to deal with their sympathy and pity.
I just want this to go as smoothly as possible—tell them what happened and move on to a relaxing, stress-free summer. I should have just told Riley over the phone and had her tell everyone else. I really don’t want to deal with this right now.
I’m tired and hungry, and I’m sure I’m getting my period because I am extremely moody. And it isn’t helping that Charlie was still contributing to that moodiness. I want to cry because all I want is a cupcake. That’s when I know my baby box is about to sabotage the hell out of me.
Pulling down the sun visor, I flip the cover to look into the mirror. I look at my eyes that have a purple hue due to lack of sleep. Reaching for my bag in the passenger seat, I dig through it, wondering if I left concealer in there. No luck.
“Dammit,” I murmur to myself.
Staring back in the mirror, my fingers trace the bags under my eyes. They’ve never been this bad before, and now my very close friends will get to see a side of me that they’ve never seen before.
I let out a breath, trying to hype myself up. “Just walk in there with your head held up high and tell them, ‘ Hey guys, I don’t think I can handle my life anymore. Charlie cheated on me because I paid too much attention to work and not him. It’s all good.’ ”
I fill my lungs with a deep breath and hold it until they feel like they’re burning. The air leaves my lungs as I blow through pursed lips. My eyes close as I take in one more deep breath before getting out of the car.