Page 15 of Fight For Her
“Thank you, love. I’m obsessed with your hair right now. Humidity does you well. Me, not so much.” I perched on the wooden bar stool and waved to Shawn, Avery, and Bethany.The bartender was a middle-aged woman who looked like she knew how to make a strong cocktail, so I ordered a margarita with a double shot before I surveyed the area.
They’d went with the same theme as the inn, nautical inspiration lined the walls. I’m talking anchors, a giant swordfish, paintings of boats, and those brown fishing nets. They’d found a theme and ran with it. It worked, though. This place was flipping adorable and gave me all the island vibes.
Avery, Bethany, and I chatted about the island. I learned many useless facts, such as the population of yearlong residents was less than a thousand people, and the rare yellow-crowned night-tipped heron only bred on this island and only in April. Bethany was like a walking encyclopedia. But I’d never seen Avery so enthralled or so animated. Her usually stoic demeanor was nowhere to be seen in Bethany’s presence as she tilted her head and inched closer, hanging on her every word.
Taking my new facts and delicious margarita, I decided to leave them to their conversation and do a lap around the bar. I had spotted Mike and Jill come in a few minutes before, but a swarm of relatives quickly swallowed them up in a bustle of chatting and hugs.
It seemed like, other than our little carpool, no one else from the gym made it out. I was expecting at least Mark and Dina to show, but maybe something came up. Jill spotted me from across the room and gave me a lopsided smile and wave. She’d be busy for quite some time it seemed.
Once again, I found myself alone in a crowded room. It hurt, but I wouldn’t be a sad sack. This was my vacation after all. There was a jukebox in the corner of the room, one of those old timey machines with lights and flashy brass knobs. I instantly thought of my mother handing me a few dimes every time we stopped at a roadside diner when I was a kid. The towns were always different, but the diners were usually the same with their jukeboxes, cracked plastic booths, and the aroma of coffee and eggs that lingered no matter the hour of the day. My mother would stretch her bright pink lips in a grin and tip her chin in my direction, urging me to go choose a few songs. She knew what I’d pick. It was the same every time. I’d scroll the selections by twisting the handles while listening to the thwap of pages turn until I found what I was looking for—Fleetwood Mac, “Dreams.” It was our song. I’d use up all my dimes to play it as many times as I could.
Mom and I would sway in our booth, me with a chocolate milkshake the size of my head and her with a steaming cup of black coffee, and we’d croon the lyrics to each other. It kept us from having to make any real conversation. I would never know where we were headed or how long we’d be there, but I could always depend on Stevie.
Fishing out a shiny quarter from my purse, I slipped it into the machine and watched the jukebox light up, brightening the small corner. There it was, a few pages in, just like I knew it would be. I pressed the corresponding button and waited for the mechanisms to do their duties while tapping my heel in anticipation.
The familiar drumbeat and guitar riffs filled the room as Stevie’s haunting voice floated into me. Smiling, I swayed side to side and sipped my thawing drink, letting the music drift through me. My limbs were already feeling lighter and looser.Thank you, alcohol.
Halfway through the song, a few people had joined me near the jukebox, dancing and mouthing the lyrics with me. I didn’t know these people, not the woman dressed in a leather vest and jeans, not the guy so tall the tip of his head almost skimmed the hanging netting, and not the clearly intoxicated middle-aged woman singing out of tune, but at that moment, they were my kin. I spun slowly, swaying my hips with one arm above my head and my eyes blissfully closed.
When I opened them again, I was facing the bar. That’s when I spotted Mia and Shawn peering in my direction, and their faces were oddly giddy considering that we only just started drinking. Someone was next to them, standing straight as a board in front of a barstool. It was the one person I never expected to see here, not in a million years. I felt his gaze searing into me before I met those stone-gray eyes I’d thought about every night for weeks. My breath hitched, and I twisted around so he wouldn’t see the shock painted all over my face.
Bastard.
What the hell was Coby doing here?
And why was my best friend talking to him with a huge grin on her face? That traitor. If she knew he would be here and didn’t tell me… The car ride. That’s why she had been acting so strangely.
It only took me a few seconds to collect myself. It was fine. Everything was A-okay. Coby was here, but that didn’t mean I had to acknowledge him. Was it petty? Yeah. Did I care? Nope.
As “Dreams” ended and my fellow dancers dispersed, I stuck my last quarter into the jukebox and chose another Stevie song, “Rhiannon” this time. Turning on my heel, I made my way to the opposite side of the bar to order another drink.
“Another margarita, please. And make it a double.” I morphed my face into a forced grin and fished out a few dollars from my purse to leave as a tip.
The barstool next to me squealed as Mia pulled it out, sliding into the seat quietly. It was a few breaths before she spoke.
“Ken, please don’t be mad.” She leaned closer. “I know you’re not exactly thrilled to see him, but he promised me he wouldn’t mess with you.”
In an extra show of drama, I whipped my head around. “What do you mean, ‘he promised you’?”
That sneaky, sneak. She knew about him coming and kept it from me. I didn’t know whether to feel hurt, pissed, or slightly happy. I couldn’t deny that a minuscule sliver inside me was feelingsomethingat seeing him again. What that something was, I did not know.
Mia twirled a curl around her finger and looked at me with those obnoxiously cute puppy dog eyes. “He called Shawn a few days ago…”
Thoughts swirled in my head. Thoughts like,Wow, I guess his phone did work, after all.Followed by,andhe chose not to call or text me. But I wasn’t going to act like a wounded animal and mope around. No, my resolve stood. This was my vacation, and Coby or not, I’d have a good time, which meant forgiving my best friend and not being a total brat. I knew she meant well in her own way.
“It’s fine, Mi. I don’t blame you.” I took a blessed sip of lime-flavored goodness before I went on. “Do I wish you would have mentioned him coming? Yes. But if you did, I know I would have stayed home. So don’t worry about it.”
Mia leaned her head on me, shooting out more apologies and niceties in between sips of her fruity beverage. I only half acknowledged her. The other half of me was keenly focused on Coby who was openly staring from across the bar.
Questions about Mia’s conversation with Coby fluttered through my mind. I wanted to pry and find out what she knew about his absence and figure out what the hell she meant by him “not messing with me?” But before I could formulate my questions, the music stopped and Mike's voice boomed across the busy bar.
“Marin wedding guests! Time to get our grub on. Head on over to the dining area.”
His loudspeaker voice and the resulting stampede of guests into the adjoining room reminded me of the last bell of the day ringing in a high school hallway with the resounding mass exodus that followed. I pulled Mia’s hand down and urged her to wait until the crowd dispersed.
“I guess these guests go apeshit for a seafood dinner, huh?” I laughed, shaking my head at the bustling crowd.
“For real. You’d think it was Walmart on Black Friday or something.”
