Page 18 of Love & Lattes at The Mermaid Cafe
“Right. Because it so clearly has a citrus quality to it.”Not.
“I like this one, Lena.” Big Lou pours himself another shot and drinks it in one go, looking like it’s as smooth tasting as one of Lena’s lattes. “If he wasn’t out to change Mermaid Bay, he could stay.”
“He can’t stay.” Lena releases my hand. Leans away. Looks elsewhere. “His values are different than ours.”
“Maybe not so different,” the big man allows. “Maybe he’s been waiting all his life to find a place like this and a woman like you.” Big Lou hands me a small piece of paper and pen.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
“Write a message to yourself.” Big Lou whisks away my empty shot glass. “Write something you need to hear to be your own man. You’ll add it to the bottle in your pocket and toss it back to the sea at the end of the tour.”
Lena excuses herself and heads over to a booth where what looks like high school students are enjoying a plate of chili cheese fries. Marina comes over to join her.
“She’s giving you privacy,” Big Lou says.
“How can you be sure?” It feels as if Lena’s turning her back on what’s been simmering between us.
“Because what you’re supposed to write is something you’dleast liketo hear. Nobody wants to witness that” And then Big Lou leaves me, too.
I stare over at Lena, missing her comforting presence by my side.
If I succeed in buying up Mermaid Bay and bulldozing the old boardwalk, she’s right. I won’t be by her side anymore. She won’t want me.
And that feels like a self-betrayal.
Morals. That’s not what I came to town to discover.
But that’s what Lena expected in her man.
Chapter Thirteen
Cade
Lena leads me out of the Broken Oar an hour later.
The afternoon sunlight is weaker now. A storm is gathering just off the coast, more ominous than a fog bank.
I can feel the pressure rising, pressing in on my sinuses.
Or maybe I just have a tension headache. It’s been a rollercoaster kind of day. It took me too long to scribble something meaningful on that scrap of paper Big Lou gave me.
Lena leads me toward the last stop on the tour—the lighthouse on the point.
I’ve passed all the tests. I’ve stuffed the message to myself in the cork-stoppered bottle with my other “winnings.” But I’m not feeling like a winner. Lena is right. There’s something about Mermaid Bay that is unique, that I’d mourn if it were to be bulldozed over to make something tame and pleasing to the masses. It’s families have built something to respect.
“I want to thank you,” Lena tells me. “I learned something about myself today.”
“Really? What’s that?” Is it too much to hope for that her revelation involves me?
“That I need a new challenge.” When Lena looks at me in the fading light, I can sense her sincerity. “That I’m happy here, in Mermaid Bay, but I’m ready for something more than the status quo.”
“Is it too much to hope that change might include a man with a positive point total at or near twenty?” I try to joke but it feels self-serving.
“I lost count of your points hours ago,” Lena admits. “Will you do away with eel pie and the Mermaid Bay Legacy Tour if you succeed in your buyout plan?”
“You think I have a chance to buy everyone out?” This is the first time she’s seemed less than certain I’ll fail.
“I hope not.” Her gaze seems filled with sorrow. “But you’re different.”
