Page 9 of Hearts on the Line

Annie returns through the back door, and I spy the top of Wally’s head as he lies on a bed there, watching over the dock and calm harbor.

“Here you go.” She hands me a pair of worn Birkenstocks and smiles. But it drops too quickly, and I retreat, realizing my mistake. “Your car broke down last night, but why are you here?”

I lean against a rack of pots, which sways and instantly fills the kitchen with what sounds like my death rattle.

“It needed to be towed to O’Brien’s last night. Can’t leave until it’s fixed. I’m stuck.”

She narrows her eyes. “You were just driving through town?”

I shrug. “My wedding was yesterday, but I left… early.” Somehow, framing it as an Irish goodbye rather than me running away feels better.

“And my brother stormed in and abducted you from the altar?”

“I think it’s time to examine your reading choices.”

She snickers, nearly finished with prepping the drawn butter. “Listen, I’m trying to figure out why you’d leave your wedding early and end up on my brother’s couch after you’ve been gone so long. Don’t go after my TBR. I have a type.”

“What’s that?”

“Emotionally unavailable men.”

She laughs until I can’t help but join in. That’s always been the power of Annie Murphy. “You want to help me prep?”

I’m thankful for the chance to keep my hands busy and nod.

She hands me a mountain of lemons and a knife, and we settle into an all-too-familiar rhythm. I spent my summers serving here growing up. She dances around the kitchen and sings while I roll silverware and do any odd job to help. And for a moment, I’m not a runaway bride. Or worse, the latest viral moment.

I die a little inside just thinking about my phone. The notifications are piling up from Jason and my mom, some friends, and even the hockey team’s HR department.

My phone vibrates along the worktop, just to prove my point. At first, I don’t recognize the number, but then I realize it’s Ethan.

Unknown: Garage called. Transmission junk. Looking at two to three weeks.

Just my luck.

Sloane: How much?

He doesn’t respond, but it buzzes again, this time with another text from Jason.

Future Hubby: Stop ignoring my calls. We need to talk.

I really need to change his name in my contacts.

“Great, now I have a new transmission to pay for.”

“You can keep your tips today. Consider it all under the table.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’re not popular like when you were here last. Newer places have come in, trendier places. You’d be surprised how long tourists will wait in line to take a picture of the latest treat so they can prove they’re living their best New England aesthetic summer.” She spins around, her dark eyes focused on me. “It might not be much, but I think you could use help right now.”

“I don’t, I’ll⁠—”

“Figure it out.” She talks over me. “I know it’s been a while, Sloane, but I thought you’d have learned that lesson by now.”

I push aside the lemons. “I’m smart when it counts.”

“But not in love?”