I glance up and look to my left, only to see a few folks focused on their breakfasts. When I look right and past Reed, I find hazel eyes locked on me from the other end of the counter.Julian.He swipes at his screen, and my phone buzzes again.How did I not notice him when we came in?
WYN
Sorry, wrong number.
I try biting back a smirk after I send it, feeling relieved that it’s him and that he’s still here. He wasn’t lying when he said we weren’t done...
“Last semester, there had been a nasty accusation, and it’s been an ongoing issue,” Reed says.
I haven’t been listening, so instead of asking him to repeat himself, I just nod and add, “That all sounds fairly disruptive.” I try tonotlook at the end of the counter and focus on whatever it is Reed is going on about.
“That’s exactly what it's been,” he says, just before holding up his hand for something from Mickey.
My phone vibrates in my hand again.
UNKNOWN
I know you just saw me, Crowne. Let’s not play pretend. Unless you’re into that...
I swallow the flood of emotions that hits me all at once. That fucking flutter in my chest—and I know it’s excitement at seeing him unexpectedly, and the stubborn part of me wants to stifle down and ignore it on principle. My cheeks warm at him usingmy last name like that, while my alarm bells sound off at the nagging reality of what he’s capable of.
“Would you like anything else?” Mickey asks.
But before I can even answer, from the other side of the counter, Julian calls out, “I’ll take a coffee to go, Mickey.” He stands to his full height, walking towards the door, and us. I slightly shift away from Reed as he continues talking, not having caught on to any of what my attention has shifted to. There was a time when I read into every word the young teaching assistant said to me, but right now, I only catch every few.
“All I’m saying is, I couldn’t find you.” Reed clears his throat. “And then you didn’t come back. I was afraid that you were going to think...”
I take one last look at Julian, who’s standing next to me as he pulls cash from his back pocket. It’s impossible to ignore the way he smells like oak and mint or how impossibly tall he seems as I sit low on a stool next to him.
“We’re okay,” I tell Reed, trying to pay attention to the man I came here with and not the one stealing my focus. “Hey, Mickey, any chance I can get some slices of pie to go?” I ask, leaning forward. I need something sweet, and even more so now, I need this breakfast to end and go talk with my sisters.
“Sure thing, Wyn. What kind?”
I wave in front of me. “Surprise me.”
“Wyn,” Reed says, a little more quietly when he realizes who else is listening.
Like he just remembered something, Mickey snaps his fingers. “You know,” he says to Julian, looking at me briefly as he slices into the oversize pie. “If you haven’t gone yet, The Whispering Fool is a spot where you might find some faces who’ll remember your father.”
I’m stuck staring and instantly curious that Julian would have talked about his personal life with Mickey Moonie over coffee.
Mickey tilts his head toward me. “Birdie Crowne met him here a couple of times. They were close.” His mustache tilts in a friendly half smile, completely oblivious that we already know each other, that Julian is well aware of who my grandmother is. “Wyn here is her granddaughter.”
When Julian’s focus shifts from Mickey to me, I feel it fucking everywhere.
“That’s really helpful,” he says in a measured tone. “Where did you say The Whispering Fool was again? I’ll have to stop by.”
Chapter Eleven
Wyn
“There’sno way anything is going to survive out here,” I mumble to myself.
Water siphons through the hose and the makeshift irrigation system at a glacial pace. It was an awful idea to take on a garden project at the end of the summer. And now, looking around at the mess of overgrown grass and weeds, I second-guess my plan of trying to build this all on my own. I thought this was brilliant. Tackle the outside once the inside had been renovated. Tommy runs the B&B, but he’s a carpenter by trade, so all of the things that needed to be done to turn this place into my own were done in record time. The garden, though, has always been something I wanted to do on my own. I thought it would be cathartic, give me a sense of purpose in the summer months when life is usuallyslower and quieter, but all I can hear right now is the suctioning sound of water busting through rubber and midafternoon insects berating me for being really fucking bad at this.
Don’t cry. It’s just dirt and water. I blink back the ridiculousness of my emotions and blow out a breath. Maybe a meltdown in a pathetic-looking garden is on par for the kind of week I’m having.
“Has Birdie seen this?” Jo calls out from the double doors off the back of my studio. I whip my head around as she pulls the sunglasses perched on her head back down over her eyes and surveys my yard. “This looks worse than before...somehow.”
