Page 1 of Always There For You

Chapter one

Her best friend smelled like jasmine petals in a rainstorm and for Amelia, that scent meant home. Her free-spirited, world traveling, easy come, easy go best friend had used the same perfume oil for years. Every time she picked Hadley up from the airport or the train station, they hugged. Cried a little. And Amelia would bury her face in her friend’s dark, wavy hair and seek out that scent. Hadley knew she wasn’t the touchy-feely type and never once denied Amelia her gentle touch, but this hug, the one that said Hi, I missed you, I’m so glad to see you, was always the tightest. The one where Amelia remembered what jasmine smelled like once again.

The wave of nostalgia and caramel-sugar sweetness that hit Amelia as she watched Hadley poke through cartons of wine took the air from her lungs as readily as that scent did. Hadley was staring straight down at her clipboard, pen in her left hand while her right hovered over the bottles in the nearest crate. That thick hair was pulled back from her heart-shaped face by a bandana, and her willowy frame was nearly lost in baggy plum overalls. But Hadley, ever the rebel, didn’t let sharp crate edges or itchy packing material bother her; not when there was a crop top to wear. It wasn’t like wearing a suit to a sack race, but Amelia had to smile at her dearest friend’s insistence on wearing something that gave the big middle finger to the task at hand. In true Hadley fashion, she was daring the crates and packing material to come at her, and if they did, she’d kick them out of the way with her steel-toed boots.

Hadley turned, found Amelia in the doorway, and said, “Are all of these wines so pretentious sounding?” She pulled a face. “Ah yes, the thirty-year old pinot grigio grown in a hydroponic garden located in an abandoned silo -”

Amelia had to laugh. “That would never happen. Grapes need proper sun and soil. Hydroponics won’t cut it.” She took the wine bottle from Hadley and turned it over to inspect the label. “This is a fifteen-dollar bottle and it’s from California.” Amelia walked over and picked up the bottle at the top-right of the crate. “Nine times out of ten, if the label is trying to look old or rich, or the name is some weird bastardization of French or Spanish, it’s a table wine meant to make people feel fancy. Nothing wrong with that, but I won’t upsell products or promise something outside of what customers can see and taste.” She set the bottle back down and peered over at Hadley’s clipboard. “Yeah, I bought duplicates of this crate. It’s one of the best-selling wines I could get my hands on for the opening.”

Hadley smirked. She had a mole by the edge of one sweetly bowed lip and Amelia let her gaze slip away from it. And Hadley’s mouth. “So the best seller is the…gas station beer of wine?”

“Maybe a salted rim margarita. Predictable but pretty tasty if you’re looking for a few drinks.”

“Can we open one?”

“It’s ten am, Hads.”

Hadley waggled her eyebrows. “When has that ever stopped me?”

Amelia could never resist her. Could almost never say no.

They drank that one bottle over the course of the day and Amelia got to see how the sun, or lack thereof, changed the interior of the store. Watching washed-out sunlight splash across the brick walls and gray stone floors made something in her chest pop open in relieved happiness. Finally, she could see the light at the end of the tunnel; her dream realized. None of the struggles up to this point mattered in those moments where she could picture the space not full of haphazard crates and trash bags and the scent of paint lingering in her nostrils; but one full of life and enjoyment, a spot welcoming to everyone. Classy Corks didn’t mean snobbish adherence to old (white) standards and ridiculous beliefs about “wine culture”. It didn’t cater to “wine moms”' or urban socialites, nor would it clearance-bin itself to selling wine that tasted like aspartame and lost dreams.

Welcoming to everyone meant everyone and what Amelia wanted to cultivate was a warm space where wine and comfort and laughter went hand in hand. She had immediately liked the calm vibe of Breakwater, but after being in town for a few weeks, she’d realized it was as close to her kind of perfect she’d ever find. And she’d signed the lease that day, knowing the next several months would be full of hard work. The kind of hard work that was worth it.

And now Hadley was here and everything was brighter. Better.

“Ames?”

Amelia looked up at her friend — her brilliant, sunny, nothing-can-take-me-down Hadley — and smiled. She knew exhaustion pulled at the corners of her mouth but she didn’t have to hide the fatigue. For one, Hadley would kill her, and two, she understood. “I think this is the last of the middle shelf stock,” she said, motioning to the two open crates to her right. “If we can get this set on the shelves, we’re ahead of schedule.”

That got her a grin, gap toothed and so earnest Amelia felt like she’d been punched in the heart. Hadley crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around Amelia’s middle, resting her chin on Amelia’s shoulder. It made her body ache a little bit more, but she’d never ever say anything. The thought of Hadley moving away from the embrace was like a cold prickle over her skin. She would never. “You are amazing,” Hadley said softly, stirring a bit of red hair that had fallen out of Amelia’s bun. “I don’t know another soul who could do what you’ve already accomplished with this place.”

She snorted, but the compliment hit. Right on target. Another punch to the heart. All she could do was tighten her arms around Hadley. “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not and you know it.”

Another sigh but she let it take her back, until she and Hadley were pressed against each other and all she could smell was jasmine. “I know.”

“So, let me finish those crates. Don’t you have paperwork or something boring to do?”

“And leave you with all the heavy lifting?”

“Ames.”

“What?”

“It’s two crates.”

She knew there was no use arguing. But her stubborn ass was going anyway. “Yeah. One for me, one for you.”

“Nope.” Hadley popped the p. “All mine. I’m a greedy jerk like that.”

No, I think I am, she wanted to say because Hadley was then running her hands up Amelia’s arms, thumbs pressing just right into her muscles. She groaned and hung her head. “Should let me look after you, now that I’m here.”

“Hadley -“

“I know, I know. Stubborn to a fault.” More delicious pressure into her exhausted, aching muscles as Hadley’s touch slid higher, and then she was rubbing circles into Amelia’s shoulders. She wanted to fall to the floor and let Hadley do whatever she wanted. She wanted to be a puddle of goo, without a thought in her head. Amelia knew her body would be screaming at her in the morning if she was lucky. The pain might start tonight and then she wouldn’t be able to make dinner and enjoy their evening on the porch.

---