“Sorry, Billie. That was the?—”
“Last one? Yeah. Of course it was. Your face leaves nothing to the imagination, Matty. Do me a favor, never take up poker, all right?” With my attention on the menu hanging on the wall—the one I’ve memorized and don’t need to read because I only ever order one of two things—I straighten my spine and order. “I’ll have a matcha latte, please. And, um, a cookie or something.” I don’t even want it. I had my heart—and my belly—set on the crunchy, creamy, chocolaty goodness that is a Nanaimo bar.
“No, here. You have this.” Peter steps around the counter, his bitten-into treat in the center of a vintage plate.
“That’s okay. It’s yours.” I stop him with a hand, hoping he doesn’t come any closer, which, of course, he does.
“Beth-Billie,” he stammers, joining two names together as he corrects himself. The front door opens and closes behind us, andfor the first time in my life, I hope it’s someone who wants to talk to me.
“Lizzie. I guess we both had the same idea to get a coffee before our meeting.” My dad’s hoarse voice makes me wince, my jaw tightening as I note the way Peter’s eyes widen at the tall man whose faint cigarette smell is already hitting my nostrils, making them itch.
“Hey, Dad. Yeah, I was early, so I came to get a matcha. I was going to bring you a coffee.” I wasn’t, but the moment I say it, Matt—bless his sweet soul—pours a dark roast into a medium cup and places it on the counter, leaving enough room for so much sugar and cream, it’ll no longer taste like anything remotely resembling coffee.
Dad takes the cup, unceremoniously. “Well then, I’m even more glad I caught you. You never put enough sugar in.” Biting my tongue, I keep theno one needs four packets of sugar in their coffeecomment to myself. “Hi there.” My father extends his free hand to Peter. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Tim Cameron, president of the Business Bureau. You’re the fella from Toronto who had a cottage remodeled, aren’t ya?”
“Dad, this is Darcy,” I say, jumping in before Peter has the chance to. “And yes, we’re almost finished with the work on his house. Interior is all done.” I attempt to shoot Peter an apologetic look, but he’s grinning like an idiot.
“Great to meet you, Mr. Cameron.” The two men shake hands, and I shrivel up inside, wishing I could find myself a hole to crawl into and hide as my father and weekend fling meet.
This is not supposed to fucking happen.
CHAPTER 13
IF YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT CATCHING MY COOTIES, I THINK IT’S TOO LATE.
DARCY
Elizabeth’s dad steps between me and his daughter, the smell of stale cigarettes clinging to him.
“I take it you’re turning that new place of yours into a fancy vacation rental like everyone else? Or are you sticking around? Balsam Bay is probably too boring for a city slicker, eh?” His throaty voice and the tone when he talks about the town, like it’s not already a great place, rub me the wrong way, and based on the way Beth’s shoulders rise to her ears, she doesn’t love it, either.
“From what I’ve seen, Balsam Bay seems pretty perfect. It’s why I chose this hidden gem over more popular towns for my cottage.” As I speak, the woman who’s been running through my mind nearly every second since I last saw her in my clothes at my house pretends not to listen as she pays for her order. “And I’ll be staying a while, actually.” I watch her closely as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “A few weeks, at the very least. I’d love to get to know the town better. And its people,” I say pointedly, a little louder to make sure she knows I mean exactlywhat she must be thinking I mean—that I want to get to knowherbetter.
“Well, then, maybe we can chat. You can let me know what you really think once you’ve seen how little there is to this… town.” His eyes dart around the coffee shop, which I would call nothing short of impressive. The drinks are fantastic, and whoever is baking these treats knows what they’re doing.
“It was good to meet you,” I reply a bit dismissively as I turn away from him and toward his daughter, who is now on the other side of the counter waiting for her drink, holding a bag with a cookie I know she doesn’t want.
I set down the small plate on the counter and push it closer to her. The Nanaimo bar that’s missing a significant chunk mocks me. She doesn’t react. Doesn’t move at all. “You know, if you’re worried about catching my cooties, I think it’s too late.”
That gets a reaction, and I inwardly do a happy dance. She turns to me, arms crossed over her chest, and eyes narrowing at me. Mm, I love it when she gets feisty.
“Would you stop talking?” she hisses at me. “The walls have ears in this place, and my dad is literallyright there.” Her brown eyes take on an amber glow with the warm lighting in here, and I can’t rip my gaze away from them. She holds my stare until Matt, the friendly barista, places her drink on the counter.
I can’t look away. She’s magnificent when she’s smiling, which is what she was doing almost the entire weekend we spent together, but like this, all riled up and standing close so I can hear her whispering… Oof. I’m done for.
“Thank you, Matty.” Elizabeth takes the drink with the same hand she’s got the bagged cookie in, then she reaches for the bar. “And you know what, I will take this. I definitely deserve it now, thankyouverymuch.” She takes a giant bite, crumbs falling onto her chest and rolling to the floor. Before she’s even swallowed,she’s taking another, and another, until she finally swallows and licks her fingers clean of every last smear of chocolate.
The entire time, I watch, knowing damn well there’s a huge grin on my face.
When her thumb pops out of her mouth loudly, my smile reaches from ear to ear. “Oh no, Lizzie. Thankyou.” I boop her on the nose and walk away, whistling as I open the door to the café with an extra pep in my step. Seeing her absolutely made my day.
Five days. I’ve been coming to this coffee shop every day for five days, hoping I’d run into Beth, and still no sign of her. I’ve seen Neve, Leo, and even met several curious residents, but no sign of the one person I want to see. I can’t decide whether she’s avoiding me or if she just doesn’t come in here often.
I’ve been sitting at a table in the corner, doing my best not to look up at every person who walks in. The paperback I brought with me has been open to the same page for at least the last forty-five minutes. I’m rereading the same sentence for the third time when a shiny pair of men’s dress shoes slides into my line of sight.
“Darcy. I was hoping to run into you in town.” I recognize the smell before the voice. Beth’s dad.
What was his name again? Jim? No.
