Page 11 of Wake Me Up Before You Cocoa

“I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother’s passing. I remember that you were close. She has a super cool antique store. I think it’s great that you’re running it now.”

“Um, okay. Thanks. Just finished a big remodel. She bought the place after we—I—graduated college and finished my Art History degree. I joined her, and we built the place up and ran it together. Until a year ago . . .”

“I remember you were majoring in Art History,” he said softly, college memories flooding his mind. Homework dates, movie dates, studying dates, football games—she never missed a single one while he was quarterback—and the sweetest, most tender goodnight kisses.

Marina’s eyes seemed to widen in panic, as if scrambling for something else to say and there was a moment of silence while Wade took the time to take in the fact that the girl he’d loved so long ago was standing right here in front of him.

She looked just the same. No, she looked even better, if that was possible. But Marina wasn’t a college girl any longer. She was all woman now. Still slender, but with sexy womanly curves and great legs he tried not to stare at, while her bright blue eyes still sparkled like a Christmas tree, just as he remembered.

The strands of her hair shimmered soft gold under the store’s lighting. She still wore the same style of clothing as she did during college. As if she’d found buried treasure in an upscale Goodwill hand-me-down store.

Back in the day, Marina had called herself a fashion junkie with a vintage flair to her clothing and outfits. Perhaps because she took after her hippie grandmother who was a flower child in the 1960s in San Francisco before moving to Louisiana to raise a family when she married a Cajun fisherman and fell in love with the bayou.

Marina’s wardrobe consisted of free and easy colorful skirts and blouses. But he always loved that she knew her own mind and was happy in her own skin.

Wade, on the other hand, had spent his teen years in a staid and strict household with a corporate father who began making money hand over fist, and a mother who turned into a social butterfly and knew how to dress and spend money.

Wade remembered that one of the reasons they broke up was due to his parents’ pressure to marry a girl from his “own social and economic” class, as his mother put it. Even his older sister Adele had predicted future unhappiness to be tied to a girl that had come from a backward, country upbringing. Despite living in New Orleans after she graduated from college to help hergrandmother run the antique store, Marina had originally come from small-town Fairhope east of Mobile near the Gulf.

He’d hated having to part ways with her, but he was thrilled to get drafted for a national football team like the Raiders. It was a dream come true. His parents had pressured him to leave Marina behind—they were much too young to get married just as his career was beginning. Take the million-dollar offer, move to the Bay Area, and leave his college girlfriend behind with barely a decent goodbye.

A guilty sensation came over Wade. He knew he had hurt Marina all those years ago, but she didn’t know it had torn him up, too. He’d succumbed to the pressure. Weren’t they too young to get married? By the time he’d played two years, pocketed a couple of million, got injured and had to quit, his social life had changed to a completely different circle of society.

Women threw themselves at pro football players, but they were all so superficial. Lydia was different—she wanted a family like he did, although sometimes he wondered if she just said the right things to capture his heart—and the diamond ring that went with it.

It was a terrible thing to realize about his own fiancée. . .

And now his heart was falling through the floor of Ruby Rose’s Antiques. He’d had a broken heart as well once the graduation ceremonies and parties were over, but Wade had never told Marina that because she disappeared after the terrible night they broke up. Then he lost track of her when she canceled her apartment contract and changed her phone number

Back then, Wade had to face reality. She was gone forever. He needed to make the best of things and move forward with his move to California. But now, unbelievably, Marina was standing right here in front of him. Like a mirage, or a dream.

When Marina finally lifted her eyes to his face, a jolt of lightning passed between them. He blinked in shock, but sheturned away as if seeing him physically hurt her—or maybe she was furious with him.

But why? It had been more than eight years. Hadn’t they agreed to go their separate ways—that they were too young to make their relationship permanent?

He didn’t like seeing her this way. The Marina he’d known was happy, smiling all the time. Always wanting to explore and enjoy life to the fullest while also remaining grounded and a thoughtful friend.

The rush of memories was about to knock him straight to the ground. Finally, he came to, as if waking up from a coma, and lightly touched her arm. “You okay, Marina?”

“I’m super good and getting better!” she said, straightening her shoulders and sidestepping him as if she didn’t want him to touch her.

She strode toward the customer service desk without looking back.

Wade followed, enjoying the music that the bangles on her wrists created while she moved. “Hey,” he called out. “Have you got a few minutes for my payment?”

She whirled on the ball of her foot and her eyebrows shot so high they disappeared into her wispy bangs. “Payment?! What are you talking about?”

He grinned slyly. “You promised me a fancy drink at The Coffee Loft and a donut. For bringing your phone back.”

She turned her head back and forth. “Whereismy cell?”

“Nope, right here.” Wade slipped the phone out of his pocket and handed it over, their fingers brushing. “I knew the mermaid case reminded me of someone. Big coincidence.”

She shrugged. “The only coincidence is that we happened to be at the cemetery on the same day. Nothing more. People visit loved ones at the cemetery all the time.”

“I hadn’t seen Josh’s grave in at least a year.”

“Well, okay, maybe notallthe time.”

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