I step onto the brick path, turn toward the water, and almost walk straight into Lola. I’m so floored that I just stare at her for a moment.
She’s standing in faded jeans and a soft blue sweater, hair pulled back loose, a canvas tote slung over one shoulder. Her sunglasses are on top of her head, and her eyes go wide—the same shock I feel slamming through me.
“Tully?” Her voice is quiet and surprised, but warm.
My mouth goes dry. “You’re…everywhere I turn these days.”
She gives a small laugh, almost disbelieving. “I could say the same about you. What are you doing in Nantucket?”
“Dax is getting married this weekend.”
“No way,” she says, her eyebrows lifting. “Does his soon-to-be bride know what she’s getting herself into?”
I chuckle. “She’s turned Dax into a new man. I don’t think you’d even recognize him. He only has eyes for Skye.”
“Wow. I honestly thought he’d stay single forever,” she says.
“Me too. Are you here visiting family?”
“Yeah. Small world and crazy timing, right?”
“That’s an understatement.” I grin.
And then I remember she has a boyfriend.
A quick scan behind her doesn’t reveal him, but I don’t presume he’s not still here.
“Where’s Patrick?” It slips out before I can catch it.
She exhales, looks down at the bricks for a beat, then back up at me. Something flickers in her eyes—relief, maybe, or just exhaustion. “We broke up.”
I swallow hard, wanting to dance a little jig right there on the sidewalk, but instead, I say, “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes narrow. “Are you, though?”
“Not at all.” I laugh. “I mean, I’m sorry if you’re hurting, but?—”
“I’m not.” She gives me a tight smile. “It needed to end…it went on longer than it should’ve. I’m okay.”
“I’m sure he’s not as happy about this decision.”
Her nose crinkles up. “No, he’s not.”
The wind tugs at her hair, a strand flying across her cheek. She doesn’t brush it away. I shove my hands deeper into my pockets because I really want to reach out and touch her.
“So, are there a lot of wedding festivities?” she asks.
“You know Dax. He doesn’t do anything halfway…and this weekend is no exception. But Nantucket in September isn’t the worst thing in the world, is it? It’s beautiful here.”
She nods and glances toward the harbor. “I’ve always thought so. I miss it. I needed to get my fix. It must feel similar to you, being in Windy Harbor.”
“Yeah, it does. St. Paul is home, but Windy Harbor feels like the best parts of home. Growing up, it’s where we went for fun and downtime. All the water grounds me, and being there more often feels like an extended vacation. I’m sure it will feel a little different once I’m there full-time?—”
“Or maybe that vacation mentality will keep carrying through.”
“Maybe.” I smile.
Silence settles between us, not awkward exactly. The water laps against the shore, and a gull cries overhead.
