That’s all I have left in Orchard Cove? Officially.
That’s all I have left ... with Mason.
I swallow as I grapple for something meaningful to say. And in the back of my mind clings the fear: that he only slept with me to try to win this battle.
That he’s the one who made this generous offer to buy Pier Seven from June.
But of course he’s the one.
Maybe he’s enjoyed sleeping with me, for whatever that’s worth. But ultimately ... whatever he wants with me comes a distant second to how much he wants that building.
It’s like my greatest fear has been shoved right in my face.
But June is right in front of me, and this is not her problem.
“Okay,” I tell her. “I understand. Thank you for being honest. I’m not prepared to make an offer to buy. So ... I guess that’s it.”
June frowns at me again. “This is not a rejection, Sierra.”
“Right.”
She sighs a little. “You can try,” she tells me, “but you can’t run away from your life. You’ve heard of ‘wherever you go, there you are’? So, live your life, and live the hell out of it. You’re the only one who gets to. Not your sister, not anyone else. See it as the privilege it is and stop waiting to be chosen by some man. Or some place. Or some perfect business opportunity.Yoube the one to choose. That’s my advice to you, unsolicited as it may be.”
Once again, I feel so seen by this woman ... I want to be annoyed with her, but I’m really not.
“You know what, June? I appreciate you.”
I give her a hug, and she stiffens.
But then she pats me on the back. “I ... appreciate you, too.” She pulls away. “Now, go have fun.”
I watch her walk away up the beach, alone, silver hair blowing in the breeze.
And I wonder if one day I’ll end up as self-possessed and fiercely independent as her.
Or as alone.
I’m sitting at the bonfire when Mason sits down next to me. It’s just past midnight and Sophie vacated her spot on the log beside me a while ago to walk home with June.
There are about thirty of us still lingering around the fire, making s’mores and drinking. Layne is playing “Harvest Moon” on his acoustic guitar, a few people are singing along, and Bev and Bill are slow-dancing down at the shoreline.
Me, I’m staring into the flames and avoiding tomorrow.
“How was your day?” Mason asks me, as if we’re friends like that.
Or maybe he just wants to know how badly he demolished me in sales today.
I look at him, and when the slight smile falls from his face, I realize tears are shining in my eyes.
“Shit. That bad?”
I wipe my eyes. “It’s just the fire. My eyes are sensitive.”
“Okay . . .”
“And the alcohol.” I point at the big cooler Layne brought, filled with ice and cans of Elderberry cider. “I may be slightly drunk. I blame your brother. How was your day?”
“Decent,” he says carefully. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
