“Forty-eight hours, give or take.”
Joey was quiet for a moment. Processing. Stella watched something shift in his expression—like the dawning realization that the massive farewell he’d been dreading was also just... the beginning of a new schedule.
“I should make a prep list,” he said finally. “For Thursday. Make sure everything’s ready.”
“You have a prep list,” Tyler said. “You made it last week. And laminated it.”
“I should review the prep list. In case something’s changed.”
“Nothing’s changed.”
“The tomato shipment might have changed.Tomatoes are unpredictable. And critical now.” Joey was already moving toward the kitchen. “I should check the tomatoes.”
Stella caught Tyler’s eye. They both smiled.
“I’ll help clean up,” she offered.
“I’ll get the streamers,” Tyler said.
Stella pulled out her phone first. Framed one last shot—Joey in the kitchen doorway, dishcloth over his shoulder. He didn’t know she was shooting. That was the point.
The Shack’s own Coffee Drinker Number Two, she thought.Going twenty minutes away and taking all of our hearts with him.
She took the picture. Then she started taking down decorations.
“Hey, Stella?” Joey emerged from the kitchen, dishcloth over his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for staying.”
“Someone had to.”
“No, I mean—” He paused, searching for words. “Thanks for staying. In Laguna. With all of us. I know you had other options.”
“Not really.”
“You did. Australia. Your mom. A whole different life.” Joey shrugged. “You chose this one. That means something.”
Stella looked around the Shack—the faded booths,the shell-covered ceiling, the photo display of Joey’s greatest hits that she’d helped assemble.
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess it does.”
“See you Thursday?”
“See you Thursday.”
Joey nodded, satisfied. Then he went back to the kitchen to check on the tomatoes.
Stella finished the last of the streamers, tucked them into a bag, and stepped outside into the evening air. The parking lot was empty now except for Tyler’s truck. The ocean murmured in the distance.
Two days until Thursday. Forty-eight hours until Joey was back, checking prep lists and adjusting napkin angles and making sure Bernie’s coffee arrived at exactly the right time.
It wasn’t really a farewell at all, she realized.
It was just a really good party. For a really nice guy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
