Page 30 of The Problem with Perfect

“Connor needs to spend part of our summer in town helping his dad at work, and that’s going to leave me kind of on my own. I just had so much fun at dinner last night and…I don’t really know anyone else here, so I was hoping you might have some time? Like I said, we could get coffee or maybe hang out at the lake.” She shrugs. “I mean, I don’t really know this place at all, and when Connor said you’ve also lived here your whole life, I thought maybe you could be my tour guide.”

There’s a brittle voice inside my head saying I should tell her to fuck off. I’m working two jobs and studying for my CPA Exam, not to mention the fact that I should be trying to figure out what’s next for my life.That’swhat I need to be doing with my time, not carting Connor’s fiancée around Cedar Point.

I don’t want to know her.

I don’t want to spend time with her.

I don’t want to hear about her relationship with Connor and pretend to care.

But I also know how it feels to be lonely, to wish you had some sort of confidant, somebody to talk to, even about things that don’t matter at all.

Staying in town for college, as great as it can be, has been really difficult from a relational standpoint, and I’ve spent many months wishing I had someone local to hang out with and do exactly what Stace has been brave enough to ask of me.

So even though there’s that bitchy part inside me saying I should tell her I’m too busy—or, hell, just tell her about my history with Connor—instead, I swallow my irritation and do the exact opposite.

“You know, there’s a vintage music store on Main Street, and I was thinking about getting a coffee and flipping through their old records. Do you want to come with?”

Stace beams. “That sounds awesome. Yes, I’d love to.”

“Alright, well…let’s meet at Ugly Mug at 10 tomorrow? Does that work for you?”

“That’s perfect.” She slips her hands into her back pockets. “I’ll let you get back to work, but thanks in advance for taking pity on my lonely self.”

I laugh and give her a wave as she heads back toward the front door and out to the parking lot, my shoulders sagging once she’s gone.

Ugly Mug really does have fantastic coffee, and Idolike checking out the vintage records on Saturday mornings, so it isn’t like this is going to be a complete hardship. In a worst-case scenario, we hit those two spots and I tell her I’m busy once an hour has passed. That’s a reasonable amount of time for a friendly get-together, right?

I sigh and turn toward the bar to put in a drink order for table 12. Entertaining Connor’s fiancée…

At the very least, this should be interesting.

* * *

When I push through the doors of Ugly Mug the following morning at just before ten, the place is packed to the gills. The line isn’t out the door or anything, but it’s clear from the many unfamiliar faces that summer is officially here and families and vacation-goers are already making their way to Cedar Point.

Living in a town that somewhat revolves around tourist seasons has its ups and downs. The inconsistency of business is something most people have to account for, with entire months of the year going by with few customers. Some shops on Main Street are seasonal boutiques, only opening during busier months.

It’s nice when the pace of things is a bit slower, but I know for the sake of this town and the businesses owned by people I care about that it’s better for everyone when things are busy. So, even though there are mornings like today when I’ll have to wait longer than normal for a cup of coffee, I do it gladly, knowing it’s a positive for Cedar Point and the community.

“Hey!”

I turn, smiling when I see Stace.

“Hey, good morning. Find it okay?”

She nods. “It’s hard to miss the only coffee shop in town, especially when it has a big sign with a steaming mug outside.”

I laugh as we step into the line. “I’m assuming there are more places to pick from for coffee where you live?”

“I’m from Seattle,” she tells me, “so yeah, you could say I have my pick of coffee places.”

“Oh, wow. Seattle. From the city? Or somewhere smaller?”

“I’m a city girl, through and through. Grew up in a twenty-story high-rise only a few blocks from the original Starbucks.” She shrugs. “I might be a bit of a coffee snob.”

“Well, I can’t speak for other places because I’ve lived in Cedar Point my whole life,” I say as we step forward, “but I’d say Ugly Mug isn’t exactly dirt in a cup.”

She snorts. “I’m glad to hear it, because the fancy espresso machine at Connor’s parents’ house makes exactly that.”

---