Not that I’m interested in anything like that right now. Absolutely not.
He comes back and hands me an envelope through the passenger window. “Three hundred dollars. Hope that’s enough to get you a few things.”
Three hundred dollars has never felt like so much. Jack once tipped more than that at Shutters in Santa Monica for a shared order of mussels and feta dip with two glasses of Sancerre without blinking.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I’ll pay you back.”
He points to the shop. “Clothing store’s there. Drugstore’s beside it. Right across the street is the Seaglass Saloon. I’ll wait inside. They’ll be playing the recap of last night’s Mariners game, so I’m in no rush.”
“Great.”
I climb out in my sweatpants, baggy T-shirt, and size-twelve men’s slides, envelope clutched tight and an extremely valuable necklace around my neck. Maybe Wild Rose Point has a pawn shop.
“See you in a few,” Ryan says.
“See you in a few,” I echo, tucking the money deep in my pocket before heading into the clothing store.
Inside, warm light glows and a sandalwood candle burns. There are no Theory blazers or Rag & Bone jeans here, just soft crewnecks, Patagonia shorts, and practical, unfussy clothes. After weeks of dressing up for pre-wedding events, the thought of slipping into anything here feels like heaven.
“Hey!” the woman behind the counter calls. “Need help?”
“Just a few things,” I say. Shorts, pants, a T-shirt, maybe a sweatshirt. Three hundred dollars suddenly feels insufficient…until I flip a tag and remember that normal people don’t spend a hundred bucks on a T-shirt.
After trying on a few things, I emerge with a small stack—underwear, a bralette, basic flip-flops. Then I spot them: pink sandals with little strawberries across the band, the same ones I’d once wanted at the Dallas airport before Jack had raised an eyebrow and said, “You’re not ten, babe.” I’d dropped them immediately.
“I’ll take these instead,” I say, picking up the strawberry slides and placing them on the counter.
The total comes to just over $150. I pause, then look at the white eyelet dress on the mannequin. I should have an aversion to white dresses at this point, but this one is casual, airy. Thetype of dress that serves many purposes, something you can pull over a bathing suit after a day on the beach or wear to a baby shower. It would look perfect with the sandals. Budget be damned, I want to own it. “Actually…I’ll take the dress too. I’m going to change into it.”
Impulsivity seems to be my thing now.
A stop at the drugstore for toothpaste, face wash, lotion, the same coconut body lotion from my teenage years, and a hairbrush, and I’m set. Eighty-four dollars left. Enough to get by.
I’ve just crossed the street in front of the bar when a narrow path catches my eye. It leads to another area of small shops. I head down the path, and a display in a shop window beckons me. Decks of tarot cards, collections of crystals in vibrant hues, candles of all shapes and sizes. I glance up at the shop’s sign. The Water Witch. Something about it feels as absurd as the situation I find myself in right now, so without thinking, I let myself through the door.
The shopkeeper looks up from the display she’s tidying by the far wall. The space is packed to the brim. The shelves are stacked with books on astrology and tarot. The air smells sweetly of sandalwood and something else I can’t quite place. In the back, there’s a room that appears to be a fortune-telling space. “Welcome,” the pretty copper-haired woman says. “Let me know if you need a hand with anything.”
“Thanks.” I survey the shelves, which are all organized by color. The section that houses everything violet catches my eye, lined with polished stones and crystals. I pick up the first one, which is labelled on the shelf as amethyst.Intuition,protection, the small card reads. There’s a rich royal purple stone, sugilite, which apparently is associated with spiritual growth.
But the one I’m drawn to the most is swirled with purple and black.
“Charoite,” the shopkeeper says. The woman appears beside me.Eliana, her nametag reads. “It promotes transformation.”
Transformation. The word catches somewhere in my chest. I clutch the stone in my hand, and suddenly I need it more than any clothing item or toiletry. “I’ll take it,” I say. Jack would have shaken his head at the sandals. What would he think ofthis?
With my new talisman safe in my pocket, I exit the shop and locate the Seaglass Saloon, an old building with nautical signs in the windows, which sits at the edge of the strip .
Inside, loud chatter and classic rock guitar bounce off the weathered wood floors. The bar smells like a mix of salt air and lemon oil, and there’s an ocean-inspired mural on the far wall. It’s charming, in its own way.
I find Ryan at the bar, sleeves rolled up, leaning in to listen to the bartender, an older woman with sun-bleached hair and a wide grin. Ryan listens like what the woman’s saying really matters to him. It’s…nice. He’d listened tometoo, without judgment. At least, not out loud.
Ryan’s gaze shifts to meet mine. His expression changes as he takes in my new outfit. I suppress a flash of self-consciousness.
He’s a stranger. A kind stranger, but still. I’ll never see him again after I leave Wild Rose Point. Why should I care what he thinks?
“Come on in,” the bartender says. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m meeting him,” I say, looking back at Ryan, who’s still studying me, quietly curious.
