Page 65 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
I hate that Mrs. Hopkins is bringing up the very thing causing me the most concern when it comes to Merritt. Because it means Ihavecause for concern.
I put the last of the oranges in the bag and tie it tight. “I really do need to head on before the store closes, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Mrs. Hopkins says, picking up her pace as I practically sprint back to the frozen food aisle. “I skipped my yoga today, so this will be my workout. You know how it is—we women need to keep up our flexibility and stamina.”
I do NOT know how it is, and I’m very positive I don’t ever want to.
But I’m not able to shake Mrs. Hopkins, who’s the human version of super glue. Not even when I stop at the men’s room. I don’t need to go, but I take a long time splashing my face with water, then check my phone for any notifications. I even lean against the counter and play a round of Angry Birds, confident I’ve wasted enough time that Mrs. Hopkins waiting for me would both be awkwardandsocially inappropriate.
Socially inappropriate must be Mrs. Hopkins’s middle name because when I finally emerge, she’s still there.
“I hope you don’t have anything frozen in your bags,” I tell her as I look through the bread for the brand Isabelle likes.
“Don’t you worry about me. Though I appreciate the concern. My, my,” she tsks. “My book club will be mighty sad to hear you’re off the market. A man like you. Sexiest Single Man on Oakley has been neck and neck between you and Benedict for years.”
I could have lived my entire life without knowing about this.
“Book club?” As far as I know, that’s usually code for wine and talking. Then again, I can’t remember the last book I read. Maybe book clubs actually read nowadays.
“I’m sure you know about it. Your mother attends most months. It’s called Panty Melters.”
She chuckles while I’m busy trying not to think about my mother being involved in anything called by such a name.
“We like to keep those fires lit, if you know what I mean. Extend an invitation to Merritt! We’d love to have her. And I bet we could impart some real pearls of wisdom.”
I don’t bother with the peanut butter but break into the fastest walk of my life to the front registers. Mrs. Hopkins finally takes the hint and heads outside, waving as she goes.
“Don’t forget to tell Merritt about the Panty Melters,” she calls, cementing my mortification. “You’ll be glad you did.Trust me.”
The teenager ringing me up looks as horrified as I feel. The tips of his ears are flaming red, and he looks at me like I had an actual choice in the subject matter of that conversation.
“Sorry,” I tell him, though none of this is my fault.
Before I forget, I grab two bags of M&Ms for Izzy.
Sexiest Single Man on Oakley Island is a title I’ll happily cede to Benedict. I’m fine just being a dad. A contractor. A woodworker. A wild animal rescuer.
But there is one more title I’m suddenly wishing for, one that would knock me off whatever real or imagined list Mrs. Hopkins was talking about.Husband.
It hasn’t mattered for years, but since Merritt came back, it’s suddenly all I can think about.
I can only hope it’s what she’s thinking about too.
FIFTEEN
Merritt
“Areyou sure I can’t bring you anything else?”
Harriett, the owner of Sweet Tea and Toast, slides a full mug of coffee onto the Formica table in front of me. Her long white braid is draped over her shoulder, giving her the air of a woman much younger than she probably is. The deli is mostly empty. It’s too late for the breakfast rush and too early for lunch. But that suits me just fine. Everyone I run into—Harriett included—looks at me with a sly smile, like they know all my secrets. Which they do. Frank’s TikTok has a lot of followers.
“No, this is good,” I say, wrapping my hands around the mug. “Thank you.”
She hesitates for a moment, her eyes narrowed. “I’ve got just the thing,” she says. “Be right back.”
Just the thing forwhat, I’m not sure. But I nod and check my phone again. Still no messages from Hunter.
Did Cassidy have her baby? Is she okay? Does he have Isabelle? The questions are like persistent mosquitos buzzing in my ears.
