“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, a non-commitment that had served her well in countless business negotiations.
Luke studied her for a moment longer than was comfortable. “You know what I’ve always wondered? Whether you left Laguna because you wanted what was out there... or because you were running from what was here.”
The words hit something deep in her chest. Meg stared at him, feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with work or family obligations.
“Maybe both,” she said quietly. “But I think I’m tired of running.”
Something shifted in Luke’s expression—a recognition, perhaps, or approval. “That sounds like progress.”
“Does it?” Meg asked, surprised by her own uncertainty. “Because mostly it just feels scary.”
“The best changes usually do,” Luke said gently, then stood. “I should let you finish up.”
After he left, Meg sat in the quiet office, his words echoing in her mind. She thought about high school—not the academic achievements or college preparations that had consumed her focus, but the smaller moments. Late-night phone calls with Natalie about everything and nothing. Paige’s elaborate plans for group costumes that never quite worked out the way she’d envisioned. The way they’d all known each other’s coffee orders and family dramas and secret fears.
When had she stopped believing that kind of friendship was worth maintaining?
Meg reached for her laptop, then stopped. Instead, she pulled out her phone and opened social media, typing “Natalie Rodriguez” into the search bar.
Natalie’s profile appeared—public, filled with photos of classroom activities, family outings, community events. Meg scrolled slowly, absorbing glimpses of a life she’d once been part of. Natalie looked happy, fulfilled in a way that radiated from every photo.
There, in a post, a wedding photo that made Meg’s chest tighten: Natalie in a simple white dress, surrounded by friends. Paige was there as a bridesmaid, beaming with joy. Even Luke stood in the background, raising a glass in toast. Everyone who’dmattered in their teenage years had been there. Everyone except her.
How many important moments had she missed while building her careful, controlled life in San Francisco?
Meg stared at the photo for a long moment, then switched to her text messages. Luke had mentioned they’d asked about getting together. All she had to do was reach out.
Her fingers hovered over the screen. What if they were just being polite? What if all these years were too much distance to bridge?
Before she could overthink it further, Meg typed a message:
Hi Natalie, it’s Meg. I’m sorry I missed you today at the shack. Would you and Paige be free for coffee sometime this week? I’d love to catch up.
She hit send before she could lose her nerve.
The reply came almost instantly:
Meg!! We were hoping you’d reach out! Saturday morning at Coastal Brew? Paige is already planning to interrogate you about your fancy city life.
The warmth of the message undid her completely. She didn’t deserve this easy forgiveness, this immediate acceptance. But maybe forgiveness didn’t need to be earned. Maybe some friendships were strong enoughto survive years of neglect and still bloom again when given the chance.
Meg set her phone on the windowsill, watching the waves roll in with slow persistence. For the first time since returning to Laguna, she felt like she might be building something rather than just managing crises.
Saturday morning couldn’t come soon enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The morning coffee with Natalie and Paige had gone better than Meg could have imagined. Three hours of conversation had passed in what felt like minutes—laughter over shared memories, updates on mutual acquaintances, and genuine interest in each other’s lives that suggested their connection had merely been paused, not broken. They’d parted with promises to meet again the following weekend.
Meg arrived at the Beach Shack with a renewed energy she hadn’t felt since coming back to Laguna.
The day proceeded smoothly—a steady stream of customers, efficient service, even a compliment from a group of regulars who said the grilled cheese was “just like always, perfect.”
By early afternoon, Meg was beginning to think this might be the first day without any unexpected challenges. The lunch rush had been manageable, the staff was working well together, and Margo had even takena rare break to sit outside for fifteen minutes, something Meg couldn’t remember seeing before.
Then the Hales arrived.
Meg recognized the type immediately—expensive resort wear, designer sunglasses, the slightly impatient air of people accustomed to immediate service. The couple settled at a prime table on the deck, looking around with the critical assessment of individuals who frequented establishments several price points above the Beach Shack.
