Page 72 of Until We Break

I watched the dark hues of his eyes in the candlelight. He might have been more handsome here.

I sighed, lifting my wine glass. “How I had no idea there was anything like this in Harbor Pointe. It’s like you were keeping a secret from me.”

“Not a secret, but you know it’s different here. If you grew up here, you know it’s a little highbrow.”

I almost spit out my wine. “Highbrow?”

“For islanders and mainlanders, it is. It’s just how it’s always been. It’s not going to change.”

I twisted my lips together trying to think about how such a small place could see itself as so different. For an outsider, it was all one big coastal neighborhood. The summer had taught me there was more nuance to it than that. That was the glossed-over tourist view. I wasn’t really a tourist. But I knew I wasn’t a local either. I was trapped in some in-between purgatory space.

Caleb leaned toward me, his heavy weight shifting the table. “I finished it.”

“Finished what?”

“The book. Your book.”

My stomach flipped. Shit. I had forgotten he had the copy. I reached for my glass of wine. I knew what was coming next.

“I loved it, Margot.”

A shrill nervous squeak escaped my throat. It was halfway between a laugh and ayeah right.

“No. I did. I’m serious.” His brow furrowed. “I don’t know what those agents or editors or whatever you called them, the marketing people, yeah those people—I don’t know why they pulled the book and canceled all the plans you had for the summer. You were supposed to go to so many places. That doesn’t matter. I really liked it. I read it cover to cover. Every single word of it.”

I swallowed the wine, waiting for the but to come next. It didn’t. I was trying to absorb what it said. He read it. All of it.

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you?”

He chuckled. “I have an idea about the book.”

“What kind of idea?”

“There’s a local bookstore right next door. You couldn’t see it from the way we drove up the street, but what if you tried to sell some copies there? You could sign some of them. I bet they’d love to have the local author come in and talk about the book.”

“No.” My voice was sharp and the response too fast. Caleb’s eyes widened. I inhaled. “I mean. No, thank you.”

“I didn’t think it was a bad idea. You could make money and the book is good. People here will think you’re a real celebrity.” He smiled softly. “I’m trying to help.”

“I destroyed all the copies. There are no more books left to sell.”

“Come on, Margot. If you wanted, we could get copies I bet. Somehow reprint the one I have.”

“No. Just no. I don’t want that book out. It’s not something I want to share anymore.” My eyes fell to the table.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I did like it though.”

I looked up just as the corners of his lips lifted in a smile. I couldn’t stay mad at him. He didn’t see me the way I saw myself. He didn’t think the writing was a failure. Why was I going to try to convince him it was?

THIRTY-SIX

Caleb

I’d never taken a girl to Café Midnight. Margot was the first. My brother used to tell me it was the place you took a girl if you wanted to get laid. I’d learned early on the tourist girls weren’t looking for fancy restaurants and candlelight. They wanted an escape from wherever they had been dragged from. An island boy in a uniform was usually enough of an escape for them. I’d never bothered with taking them on the ferry. Fuck. I sounded like an asshole when I thought about it.

Margot took a bite of her chocolate cake. “Mmm. Everything tonight has been delicious. Can we eat here all the time?” she joked.

I liked to see her happy. Helping her get away from the Blue Heron was good for her. The problem was still there. My idea about the bookstore blew up in my face. I had one more I needed to broach with her.

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