Winston stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “You know, I might have another idea ...”
Bea waved him off. “Not the vintage lunch boxes again, Winston.”
He looked wounded, but Aggie cut in. “Let’s focus.”
As their banter continued, the weight of reality crept back. Cora wandered to the counter, her eyes drifting over the familiar, well-worn details of the café—the chipped mugs, the wobbly ceiling fan, the mismatched chairs. Every part of this place was tied to Lolly, tied to the life Cora didn’t know she’d need to fight so hard for. Her gaze landed on Jack, leaning there like he belonged, and her heart did a little flip.
Before she could dwell on the thought, the café door swung open with a force that rattled the windows. The sudden noise snapped all of them to attention, and Bea nearly spilled her tea in the process.
“Oh, no.” Cora’s stomach twisted. Standing in the doorway, framed by the stifling summer air, was the last person she ever wanted to see again.
Brad-slash-Alex-the-Jerk had come to Sunrise.
He stood in the doorway, looking every inch the New York cliché, complete with overpriced designer jeans and a polo shirt stretched just a little too tightly across his decidedly average build. His hair was “artfully tousled” in that calculated, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-but-not-really kind of way, the kind that probably required more product than a salon used in a week. Cora had no idea what she’d ever seen in him. Was it his glossy charm, or had she temporarily lost her mind?
And those shoes. Canvas boat shoes. The kind that screamed,I’ve never broken a sweat in my life. Or been on a boat.
Bea sidled up to him, smoothing the front of her paisley dress. “Who do we have here?”
Cora opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her brain was still trying to decide if this was a stress-induced hallucination or if the universe really did hate her this much.
Alex’s eyes locked on hers, and he had the nerve to flashthat smug, overconfident smile of his. “Cora. I tried texting, but you didn’t respond. You’re a hard woman to track down.”
“Not hard enough, apparently,” she muttered. “How did you know I was here?”
Alex shrugged. “I went by your apartment. Your neighbor...I think her name was Mrs. Davenport, gave me your forwarding address. Of course, it took me some time to wrap up in New York to come down and see you. Things have been really happening for me since the latestFood Trends Monthlyissue came out.”
Before she could respond, Aggie, who was always on the lookout for a new face, bustled over with a smile so bright you’d think she was welcoming a celebrity. “Well, hello there, handsome stranger. And who might you be?”
Cora bit back the urge to correct her. Handsome was generous. Maybe “presentable in dim lighting” would’ve been more accurate.
Alex turned his too-white grin on Aggie, soaking in the attention. “Alex Jameson. I’m an old friend of Cora’s.”
Jack, who was standing beside Cora, stiffened, his easy smile faltering as his gaze locked onto the man in front of them. He leaned down, voice low. “Wait. Is thishim?”
Cora gave a barely perceptible nod. “Yes, that’s him. The guy who borrowed my forecast and forgot to return my job.”
Jack straightened, brows lifted in mock surprise as he turned back to Alex. “Huh. Wow. I was expecting someone taller.” He stepped in front of Cora just enough to make it clear whose side he was on, his tone light but laced with something firmer underneath. “Can we help you with something,Alex?”
The way Jack said “Alex,” as if it was a medical condition that required immediate antibiotics, made Cora want to applaud. She decided she enjoyed it. She might even ask him to say it again later, just for the entertainment value.
Alex’s smile faltered. “Actually, I was hoping to speak with Cora. Privately.”
All eyes turned to her.
Cora stiffened. The audacity of him, just showing up like he hadn’t torched her career and walked away whistling. Whatever he wanted, it couldn’t be good. But she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of looking rattled.
She sighed, weighing her options. Unless she faked a sudden fainting spell, which was tempting, there was no getting out of it. And with her luck, Alex would perform mouth-to-mouth if she suddenly dropped to the ground.
“Fine,” she said, her tone clipped. “Back porch. Five minutes.”
As she led Alex outside, she could practically feel the others scrambling to eavesdrop. Subtlety was not their strong suit. She half expected to see Aggie pop up with a stethoscope and a magnifying glass.
Governor Sam, lounging lazily on the porch swing, took one look at Alex and let out a low growl.
“Good boy,” Cora murmured, scratching behind his ears. Then she turned to Alex. “Guess you’re standing. Wouldn’t want to get dog hair on your expensive jeans.”
Alex cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. He leaned against the porch railing, and she silently hoped it would give him a big, painful splinter. One that required amputation.
