by Mariah Dietz
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Vi, I don’t know how I could live in Haven Point when I feel like my dad can’t accept me staying there for a couple of months. How would he ever welcome me moving there?”
Violet blinks, more than likely aligning my points into neat and tidy mental graphs and charts. She raises a slender finger. “First point, and this is a very important one . . .” She leans closer to me. “Boys are stupid. Regardless of how old they get, they’re stupid. They’re stubborn and overly sensitive, childish assholes who are really awful at acknowledging their own emotions and even worse at expressing them. Your dad . . .” Vi sighs and licks her lips. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, and while I was staying at your house, I woke up really early one morning, and your dad and I had a really long discussion. I think he’s afraid that Haven Point could keep you from achieving your dreams, and he’s trying to shove you out so you don’t lose them.”
“But that makes no sense! My dad grew up in New Haven, Connecticut. He moved to Haven Point after meeting my mom in college, and he said he knew he’d never leave because he loved the town so much. So why would he not want me to do the same?”
Vi lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe he worries you’ll regret it and blame him for not pushing you harder?” She shrugs once more. “Regardless, you guys need to talk about it.”
Our conversation turns to easier and lighter subjects as we finish our dinner, and I’m grateful for the respite and the time to be with Vi in a relaxed manner, something I’ve missed greatly.
I look around as we step out of the restaurant, taking in the city. “I still love this place,” I tell Vi. “I love the sounds. I love the excitement. I love all the history.” I watch a tourist, and though I thought I’d never imagine myself missing them, I do. “I don’t know if I’m more nervous about them declining me or accepting me,” I tell her.
Violet’s lips press into a frown. “I think Joey’s right. Happiness is what you need to be chasing right now. By the way, I never got the chance to tell you how wrong you were about him. That man is head over heels for you, Kennedy. Head over heels. You need to—”
“Kennedy?”
Vi and I both come to a stop, our attention turning toward Kevin, who’s approaching us with a wide, inviting smile.
“I had no idea you were back!” He wraps his arms around me. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve been thinking about you.”
A snarky comment about how my phone still works is on the tip of my tongue, but as I stare at him, I realize his familiarity also doesn’t provide me the solace it once had—or I once thought it did.
“I’m just here to pack up my things,” I tell him. “I’ve decided to move back home to Virginia.”
His eyes round with surprise. “Really?”
I nod. Violet grips my hand.
“What will you do?” Kevin asks.
“I’m not sure yet.”
Kevin pulls his head back. “You always have a plan for everything.”
“I did . . . or I tried to, but you know, half of them never worked out like they were supposed to anyway.”
He blinks, attempting to make sense of what I’m saying. For so long, I lived in Boston, working toward goals and dreams that I’m realizing in his presence were borrowed and assigned to me. I was trying to force myself and my love for creativity into an analytical mindset, creating tasks and goals as measurements for my happiness and success.
“Wow,” he says. “I’m shocked.” Kevin rubs the back of his neck. I don’t doubt this is difficult for him to understand when everything reads like x’s and o’s in his mind—the world a giant scorecard.
I squeeze Violet’s hand tighter. “Good luck with everything,” I tell Kevin, and then pull Vi along with me.
“Did you just say what I think you said?” Vi whispers, her face split with a smile.
“I’m not going to the interview,” I tell her. “Even if they can offer me a great position and opportunities for advancement, it won’t matter. I’ll never be happy because I’ll always be wondering what might have been. I’ll worry about Grace and regret not taking this chance to rebuild our relationship and strengthen it. And I’ll regret not giving my heart to Joey and risking it all because I was too afraid of failing.”
Violet’s smile is so wide her eyes are barely visible. She hugs me. “You can do this, and I’m going to help. After being in Haven Point, I can’t get back into the groove of the city. I’ve been researching the commercial real estate in Haven Point, and I wanted to talk to you about this once you had a couple of glasses of wine and were more open to considering this, but I want to be your business partner. I want to move to Haven Point and open the bakery with you. Lord knows I will be of no help when it comes to baking or decorating, but I will do our finances and taxes and all the crap you hate.”
“You’re serious?”
Vi nods.
“What about your job? What about your roommates?”
“I’m over it. I told my roommates when I got back that I was moving out at the end of this month, so my rent is paid, and they’ve already found someone new.”
My arms encircle her, pulling her close, and then I pull away again. “Are you sure?”
She nods. “Positive.”
Rather than walking back to her apartment, we hail a cab and ride the short blocks back because now that we’ve made this decision and are ready, every second takes too long.
“I guess it’s a good thing I share an apartment with two others so I can’t own much.” Vi laughs.
“What do you want to do about your dresser and bed, though?” I ask.
She shrugs. “The girl who’s moving in said she’d pay me for them if I couldn’t bring them. It would probably cost me a lot to move them anyway.”
“So this is all you want to bring?” I look around at the six boxes and three suitcases and then to my best friend, feeling terrified that I might be influencing her to make this decision she might later regret.
“This is it.”
We lug her things to the elevator and out to her car in three trips, and once our seat belts are fastened, reality hits.
“My dad is going to freak out,” I tell her.
Violet glances at me. “You can’t let him dictate your decisions, though.”
We sit in silence for a few moments, the traffic in Boston slow with the late hour. “How do you feel about the bakery being painted pink?” I ask.
“I think with that single question, you’ve just proven my worth as a business partner.”
We giggle and then discuss plans ranging from our menu to decor.
The sun is just beginning to tease the sky when we pull into my parents’ driveway, and I receive a text from Joey.
Joey: I miss you. Are you awake yet?
My heart stills.
“Go,” Violet says.
“Let me help you get in first.”
Her dark eyes round. “Go. My stuff is fine where it is. I’m going to go lie down and sleep; you go see Joey.”
I grab her largest suitcase from the trunk and help carry it to my room, ignoring her protests.
Before I can reach for the front door, Dad pulls it open. “What are you doing?” he asks. “What’s that?” He nods toward the suitcase.
I set it down and draw out a breath. I had been hoping to face this obstacle later.
He looks out to the driveway, where Violet’s car is parked. “Have you two lost your minds?”
“Probably,” I tell him.
Vi glares at me for already sounding defeated.
“Kennedy, I know you love this town,” Dad begins. “But this is a terrible idea. You guys are going to be bored and regretting this decision in a matter of weeks.”
I glance to Violet, looking for guidance on what we should do. She stares back at me, imploring me to stand up for myself. “Dad, this is my home. Haven Point is my home.
“I know you think this is stupid, but Vi and I have decided we wan
t to move here and do this together. We want to open a bakery. Together.”
He shakes his head. “This is ludicrous. You’re going to pour your life savings into this place and be ready to move in six months.”
Tears burn my eyes. I knew he wouldn’t support it, but hearing his disapproval hurts worse than I had imagined. “I don’t understand why you think that. Why are you so against me staying here?”
Dad leans back on his heels, scrubbing a hand over his cheek. His lips press together, and for a moment, I recognize him—recognize his fear and hope. “Haven Point is very small, and your dreams have always been very big.”
“But I want to be here. I want to live by you and Mom and Grace. I want to open this bakery and create a life here in Haven Point, not as my seventeen-year-old self, but as me.”
“You can’t be responsible for your sister,” he says.
“This has nothing to do with being responsible for her. I’m not choosing to move here only because I think it’s better for Grace—it’s better for me, too. I want to live around my family. I want to be here. I want to be able to help you and Mom if the store gets busy. I want to pop over and have lunch with you guys, or dinner. I want to barbecue on the Fourth of July and not worry about traveling for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I want to be here.” Tears make my chin shake and my voice unsteady. “And I really want you to want me here.”
His lips teeter down and then up, causing tears to cloud my vision. Never have I seen my father cry. “I just want you to be happy. I don’t want you to give up anything.”
“I’m not,” I insist. “This is what I want.”
Dad nods a couple of times and pulls in a deep breath through his nose. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. I just wanted to push you to reach all your dreams.”
I brush a stray tear away. “I’m happy, Dad. I’m happy here.”
He nods and then his arms are around my shoulders, holding me.
There are many things I still don’t know about my dad—things I likely never will. But there isn’t a single doubt in my mind that he loves me.
Dad’s arms drop as a truck idles in the driveway. I turn to look, too. All at once, a million thoughts all strain into one: Joey.
Joey turns his truck off and slides out of his driver’s side door.
I descend the porch steps as he walks closer. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“It’s a small town, remember?” He laughs.
I shake my head. “We haven’t seen anyone but Dad.”
“Coen texted. Said he saw a car with Massachusetts plates driving by and thought you were in it.”
“Small town,” I echo the sentiment, strangely disappointed I didn’t get to surprise him.
“What are you doing back?” he asks. “Isn’t your interview this morning? Did they move it up?”
I shake my head and reach forward and kiss him, enjoying the scratch of his chin against mine, the softness of his lips, the pressure of his hands. I’m spiraling, but I’m not lost.
It’s taken being back in Haven Point and reconnecting with my roots, my sister, and meeting this man to teach me that home has never been about a specific place. Happiness has never been about a job. And accomplishment has nothing to do with achieving a goal. Home is where you feel happy. Happiness is discovering who you are and accepting yourself. And accomplishment is learning how to love and allowing yourself to be loved.
He breaks the kiss, looking at me with heavy eyelids that convey exhaustion and lust. I lean my forehead against his, feeling his breath on my lips as I soak him in, relishing his scent and taste and touch to ensure I remember every second of this moment.
“I didn’t go,” I tell him. “I don’t want to go. I’m moving back to Haven Point, and I want to make this work between us. We can figure it out. DC isn’t that far away. We can exchange weekends or maybe—”
Joey’s lips steal my words, kissing me. It’s tender yet demanding, making my thoughts cease and my heart burst. A soft moan builds low in his throat, and our kiss becomes urgent—desperate.
Dad clears his throat from the porch, bringing us back to earth. “Your mom’s been waiting for you to tell us about him.”
I clutch Joey’s hand and turn toward the porch. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Joey DeLuca.”
Dad rolls his eyes and shakes his head, not appreciating my joke. “I’m going to go make some coffee.” He grabs the suitcase Vi and I lugged up to the porch and takes it inside, with Vi following behind him.
Joey kisses my cheek. “I have something to tell you.” It’s the first time I can recall seeing him nervous as his dark eyes flit between mine. “I quit my job,” he tells me.
With stretched eyes, I wait for him to continue.
“I hated it. I hate what the job took from me and the idea of what it might take from us.”
“You’re serious?”
Joey nods. “Coen helped me go up to DC yesterday, and I packed all my shit up and brought it down here. I have no idea what I’m going to do yet.” He chuckles. “And that kind of scares the hell out of me, but I figured it was time I listened to my own advice.”
I lean my chest against his. “Look at you. Tough man Joey DeLuca finally found his weakness. You can’t leave Haven Point.”
His hands grip my waist, pulling me closer to him again. “I found my weakness all right, and my exception: you.”
Epilogue
Joey
“Are you sure about this place?” Grace asks, eyeing the ceiling like it’s about to come down on us.
Kennedy kicks a loose brick on the floor, and a giant spider skitters after it, making Vi and her both jump and squeal.
“Those need to all be gone before we open,” Violet says, clutching her chest.
Kennedy is careful to watch where she steps as she makes her way to my side, taking my hand in both of hers. “What do you think?”
I release a shallow breath and move my gaze from her bright-green eyes to the mostly empty propoerty. “I think you should have let us do the remodel.”
She pulls her chin back, telling me my idea is ludicrous. Kennedy’s eyes scan over my ironed blues. “Sheriff DeLuca, between planning to build a house and your job, you don’t have time to remodel our bakery.”
I press my lips into a thin line. She’s probably right, and I hate that. I want to build this place with my own two hands with Coen at my side so we can ensure it’s as safe and perfect as his house is turning out to be and I’m planning for mine to be.
Coen steps over a mess of papers on the floor, heading toward the back of the store. Tom follows him with a flashlight already on. I asked my brother to come along and check the fuse boxes and electrical panel to see if he could predict any issues.
“I think this place will be perfect,” Mrs. Wallace says. “You’ll have lots of natural light. You’ll only be a couple of blocks from the hardware store and just across the street from the sheriff’s station. I think you guys made the right decision with this place. Some of the others might have been easier, but this one just has a good feeling about it.”
Violet grins, stopping beside Kennedy and me. “It does have a good feeling, doesn’t it?”
Mrs. Wallace nods, continuing her way farther inside, surveying the brick walls.
“Have you guys picked out a name yet?” Ella asks. “I think we can wait on your website since the local sheriff’s department doesn’t even have a computer system yet.” She eyes me with pity. “But we’ll definitely need to create flyers to pass around. We can leave stacks of them at the hardware store, the sheriff’s station, the fire department, all over.”
“Ella, our deal was made over sangria. I’m not holding you to it.” Kennedy shakes her head.
“I want to!” Ella says. “You’ll be my very first clients under my own company.”
“But we can’t afford to pay you.” Kennedy pushes her glasses up.
“You get the friends-and-family discount of free . . . and will owe me the
occasional free cupcake.”
“Sold!” Violet cries.
Kennedy shakes her head, and I know there will be more discussion on the topic. But I opt to change the subject because the last thing I want tonight is an argument about details that may or may not transpire months from now.
Coen wipes his hands on his jeans as he and Tom return. “It looks good,” he says. “I mean, it obviously is going to need work, but it has good bones.”
He looks to Tom for confirmation, but he’s distracted. Shaking his head, he blinks and looks to me and then Coen. “What?”
“What do you think of the place, Dad? Think we can turn it into a bakery?” Kennedy asks.
I squeeze her hand tighter.
“I’m pretty sure you can do anything you put your mind to, kid,” Tom says. “I also think it’s Joey’s birthday, and we should probably get back to the house so we can celebrate.” He looks at me again, swallowing hard. He’s nervous, and I can see the emotions he’s battling are making it hard for him to say much.
I can relate.
“I need to stop by the hardware store,” Mrs. Wallace says. “I think I forgot to close the back door.”
“I have to call this contractor really quick,” Violet tags on. “He speaks like a caveman and only leaves two-word messages. It drives me insane.”
“I’ve got to stop at the station, too,” Coen says. “We’ll be by in, like, twenty. One of them paged me.”
Panic bubbles in my chest, and Tom’s eyes go wide with a matching concern.
“You guys are like herding a bunch of cats,” Tom says.
I laugh nervously, my hand falling in my pocket. I expel a deep breath and survey the room. This isn’t how I’d expected this moment to happen. Never did I imagine this occurring in front of an audience and certainly not in a building that looks dilapidated, but like with all things, Kennedy is my exception.
I take another deep breath. “Hang on for one second.”
Kennedy eyes me with confusion but doesn’t object when I drop her hand and run out to my truck, withdrawing a short tube.
When I return, they barely notice. They’re joking about names for the bakery and envisioning where the counters will be and if they should have tables or not. Tom’s right, they’re like herding cats.