After a full day of working on his restaurant, checking in on Larry at Roasters, and making me dinner, instead of sleeping, he was taking the time to learn…
To be there for me.
“Ash—” I broke off with a hand in front of my mouth, instantly on the verge of tears.
Gosh darnit, Hormones. I couldn’t get one day? One day in peace?
“I’m about halfway through.” He held up a finger, and I knew his manly clarification for the exquisitely sweet gesture was coming. “I was only getting a couple of pages in a night because I’m a slow-ass reader, and it’s pretty boring. Obviously, not for you. But I think my nose is permanently damaged from the few times that damn book has fallen on my face because I nod off.”
I covered my mouth as I laughed and felt like I wanted to cry. Pretending to squint and examine the perfectly straight and sculpted ridge of his nose, I told him, “I think you just managed to make it away unscathed.”
He smirked at me. “Yeah, well, that’s because I realized it was on audiobook. So, I’ve been listening to it while you’re at Roasters and the guys and I are workin’ on the restaurant.”
My mouth dropped. “Seriously?”
With Mick and Miles?
“Yup.” He met my eyes. “And yeah, Miles is exactly how you would expect him to be about it.”
I bit my lip and laughed, imagining just what kind of response Ash was met with when he told two grown men to turn down their blaring country music that I could normally hear from the cabin if I was home, to listen to a book about pregnancy.
“So, shouldn’t you know if it’s a boy or girl by now?” Ash asked as we turned out of town, once again alluding to the store of knowledge he’d accumulated under my nose.
I wanted to say more about the book—about him reading it—but I could see how desperately he didn’t want me to turn it into the big deal I felt like it was.
“Yes, technically. But I don’t know if I want to find out.” I’d indicated on my forms that I didn’t want to know the sex of the baby, though as time went on, my decision could still change. My head jerked to him hearing his snicker. “What?”
“What do you mean ‘if?’” He laughed harder. “If planning was an Olympic sport, you’d take home the gold, silver, and bronze.”
“Actually, the only thing I’m taking home is baby,” I retorted, watching as that quickly quieted him. “You’re right. I probably will. I guess, I’m just kind of getting used to not knowing everything about the future. It’s uncomfortable, but I think it’s good for me.”
“Well, if it’s a boy, I think you should name him Ragnar.”
“Oh my—No, we cannot name the baby after your favorite Viking,” I said, shaking my head and laughing.
I’d walked out of the bedroom the third or fourth night after my arrival to find him engrossed in a show on Netflix. I’d just finished up an online sermon from Life Church; I’d found them while on tour with Blake and watched their services weekly when I couldn’t make it to church. And now that I was out here, I found myself back on their website, seeking comfort in my faith and God’s love, trying to drown out the shame my parents’ version of religion had instilled in me.
I hadn’t planned on staying, but the way he was watching, I couldn’t help but stop to see what the fuss was about. Thirty minutes later, I’d watched the rest of the show and Ash looked up at me with expectant eyes, wondering if I was down to watch another. Usually by the second episode of the night, I was half-asleep with Ash rubbing my feet.
My laugh cut short when I realized he wasn’t laughing. Weighted eyes sunk into mine and I realized that I’d said ‘we’… when I’d implied that he was a part of the naming committee that should have solely included me.
The loud grumble from my stomach interrupted and sent his eyes to the clock.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
There was a beat of silence as he tried to figure out how to tell me something without actually telling me.
“I’m gonna drop you off at the coffee shop, if that’s okay,” he said, turning off toward the center of town instead of continuing back to the house. “Otherwise, I’m not going to make my meeting in time.”
It was almost five to one. I’d completely forgotten he’d said he had something to do at one.
“Of course, that’s fine. I told Eve and Jules we needed to re-organize the stock room to work with the inventory system I created, so I can get started on that,” I rambled slightly.
“You met Jules?”
I nodded.
Jules was Larry’s youngest granddaughter by his daughter, Jackie. I hadn’t met Jackie or Jules’ father, Rich, but I gathered from Eve they thought they were too good to associate with the Ocean family or the town Jackie had grown up in.
“She’s only stopped in a few times—the first, just to talk to Larry; I didn’t even know who she was until Eve told me,” I went on as Ash pulled the truck up outside. “But she’d been sticking around and helping me. She seems really nice.”
And it was easy for me to empathize with someone who, too, felt like she wasn’t living up to her parents’ unrealistic expectations.
“I haven’t met her,” he told me. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure she was even let off the resort.”
I hummed. Interesting. “Well, she mentioned wanting to go back to school, so maybe we’ll see more of her.”
Being incredibly organized, I found my niche, spending the afternoons creating spreadsheets and systems to get things back in order. Still banned from the restaurant, and having cleaned the cabin to the point where surgery could have been performed there without concern, I’d made a lot of headway with the storage and inventory system at Roasters along with Jules’ help.
“Thanks.”
This was the first time I’d be there on a Tuesday. Usually, Ash had the car for his weekly ‘meeting’… maybe Larry knew what they were all about.
“I think we could maybe order some shelves online for the back here so that everything isn’t just stacked in boxes everywhere. This way it’s easy to see what we have and what we don’t,” I strategized with Eve as we stood in the back room, looking at the mess of boxes that disappeared and was replenished almost every week.
Roasters was still doing well, but it was easy to see—especially from the photos on the wall—it wasn’t what it used to be. That Larry wasn’t what he used to be.
I’d only met him a few weeks ago, but even over that time, I noticed a change.
We both jumped at the loud banging from the roof.
“Are they up there now?” I shook my head, pushing out the back door to look up on the roof.
Eli returned to town yesterday from a job in Monterey. Tall, dark, and handsome, the contractor stopped by the restaurant in the morning, greeting me with equal parts of Mick’s kindness and Miles’ intrigue before he shared a few amusing stories of what the building had looked like when Ash first purchased it.
They’d both gotten a good laugh when I made the mistake of thinking that Eli was Larry’s grandson, but seeing them together today made me feel justified in my mistake.
He’d driven me to Roasters on his way out and he’d mentioned he’d be stopping by today to fix something on the roof.
“Eli!” I yelled.
“He’s on the other end, Miss Taylor.” Mick’s jovial gaze greeted me over the edge of the roof.
For a second, I wondered if the old roof was sturdy enough to support that large of a man.
“Would you tell him to keep it down? The lunch rush is here!” I shouted back, hoping Eli would at least catch a few words.
With a mock salute, the grinning giant disappeared again.
It was easy to live in Carmel—it was easy to feel like you belonged. Strangely enough for California, the Cove seemed to be a small pocket where no one pretended to be perfect. Not that Nashville wasn’t overall kind and welcoming, but there, there were too many people—too many friends of my parents or part of
the giant congregation of my old church that judgment felt like it was infused into the air and disappointment laced into the leaves and the fields and the trees.
Here, everyone came together and looked out for one another, all knowing that life will throw things at you that you least expect—knowing that sometimes, you just couldn’t do it alone.
Walking back inside, I saw Eve talking to Larry and my heart began to pump faster. He hadn’t been here when Ash dropped me off about forty minutes ago but now was my chance to find out something about this mysterious meeting.
“Didn’t expect you here this morning, Miss,” he said with that gruff warmth that made me smile and press up to kiss his cheek. “They better not be making you work any more than you already badgered me into letting you.”
“I’m pretty sure I asked, not badgered,” I said with a grin. “Ash… had a meeting… so he had to drop me off here.”
The glimmer in his eyes answered my first question—he knew exactly what, or who, Ash had a standing reservation with every Tuesday.
“How are you feeling?” He glanced down to my stomach.
“Good. Better.” My hand rested on my bump. “I think the ocean agrees with this baby.”
He winked at me—a sight that had become less and less frequent over the past few weeks. “Or maybe it’s just Ash that agrees with baby.”
I flushed, knowing he thought there was something between us no matter how I (and I presumed Ash) insisted that there wasn’t.
“Larry,” I chided. “I told you. It’s not like that. It can’t be like that.”
“Can’t?” He chuckled as his hand on my back pulled me toward the front of the shop. “Life’s too short for can’t, Miss Hastings.”
“He has a girlfriend.” I didn’t even know why I was bothering to argue. Maybe I hoped he’d be able to convince me otherwise.
“Irrelevant.” He waved me off. “He’s not right for Danny and she’s not right for him.”
“I doubt she thinks that,” I grumbled. “And even if you’re right, there are still too many things… between us.”
“So, share them.” Like it was that easy. He began to run the decaf espresso machine, making me a special baby-approved blend with a splash of coconut milk.
I stared down at my stomach. “Sometimes sharing comes with a lot of responsibility.”
When I looked up, he was watching me again and anxiety hit me like a brick. Had I just given it away?
Please, Lord. No…
“I mean, he won’t even tell me where he goes on Tuesdays, let alone what happened to him… what made him… move across the country,” I said nervously, trying to pass it off like I didn’t have bigger secrets of my own.
“Maybe it’s better that way,” I rationalized quietly. “I’ve already got so much to process, maybe I’m not strong enough to handle whatever it is.”
He stared at me for a long second before returning his attention to the machine, until it was finished. Part of me wanted to keep talking—to change the subject. The other part won out and kept silent, waiting for whatever was brewing in Larry’s mind to pour out along with my cup of coffee.
“People,” he began as he added milk into my cup, “are like coffee beans, Taylor. We all got different flavors, come from different places, different climates. Some are blonde. Some are dark. Some Italian or French. But none of that matters when you put that bean in some hot water, whatever’s inside will always come out stronger in the end.”
Was he talking about me?
I really hoped that a normal person would be on the verge of crying like I was. Goodness, this pregnancy was going to cost me a fortune in tissues. I sniffed and reached for a napkin just in case.
“Larry,” Eve sighed lovingly as she walked by. “Are you giving the coffee bean speech again?”
She shot me a wink as she kept working and let the old man get back to what must be one of his classic pearls of wisdom.
“Sometimes,” –he put the toasty to-go cup in my hands, ignoring Eve—“hot water happens, and people don’t like to admit they’re stronger for it, because admittin’ something like that comes with the responsibility of bein’ stronger, you understand?”
I nodded.
“But it also means admittin’ to the time before… a time when you were less strong. Sometimes, that comes easy to people… and sometimes, people are stubborn and need a little push.”
I dabbed the corners of my eyes, catching the hopeful, hinting glint in his stare.
“You look a little overwhelmed, Taylor. Maybe you should enjoy your coffee while walking up three blocks and then making a left once you reach the Isla’s shop, Fleurtations; you’ll probably finish about two blocks after that on the right.”
And then he was gone—leaving me with coffee, a roadmap, and a whole lot of wisdom.
Although I couldn’t be sure if it was Ash or me who needed the little push.
My mind lost in thought, my feet followed his instructions. I waved at Isla, who was in the window of her floral shop redoing the gorgeous displays. I followed my feet two blocks down on the right, taking the last sip of my latte as I looked up at the Carmel Catholic Church.
Why would he send me here?
Did Larry know about my parents? My past?
I looked up and down the street, searching for another explanation, until the doors opening captured my attention.
No, he didn’t. He’d sent me here to find Ash.
Sure, there was that chance that in Ash’s transformation, he’d turned into a church-going person.
However, there was no mass on Tuesdays. There was only one reason to go to church on a Tuesday afternoon…
Ash
I should have just skipped the AA meeting today and taken Taylor home. I just… I hadn’t missed a meeting since Larry brought me to my first one. It wasn’t a crutch, it was a commitment—the one I’d made to myself. And after what just happened in the hospital, I needed something familiar to calm the swell of feelings I didn’t recognize.
“Hi, my name is Ash, and I’m an alcoholic.” My introduction came after several in the group had already spoken.
The words weren’t repetitive as much as they were a reset, reminding me each week where I started; because the first step in going anywhere is to know where you are.
Start where you are.
I looked around the room. Larry wasn’t here today. He didn’t make it to every meeting the last few weeks, claiming he had some things to handle at Roasters. I knew they were short-handed since I left, so it didn’t bother me so much that he wasn’t here, but I was still concerned where his head was.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about labels.” Seven pairs of eyes watched me intently as I spoke. Two of them—Drew and Mindy—were new today. “I’ve had a lot of them. Brother. Son. Football player. Manager. Friend. That’s not the full list, though the ones I left out were for the sake of avoiding profanity.”
I paused as a small chuckle rippled through the group.
“But alcoholic…” I sighed. “That’s a tough one to shoulder…. Alcoholic.”
There was a murmur of agreement.
“But today, I touched a pregnant woman’s stomach—Wait, that came out wrong.” My groan was swallowed up by the laughter that overtook the room. “Alright, alright. I’m not a creep. My friend is pregnant, and I took her to her doctor’s appointment today…” I trailed off, waving my hand as the rest of the explanation was obvious.
“So, my friend… she came to me for help,” I continued as the room grew silent. “Nothing crazy, just came and asked for a place to stay—a place to get things together.”
The group nodded, understanding premise of the situation.
“If you don’t know, I live in a shack,” I informed them with an ironic laugh. “And I’m talking accommodations might be better if you committed a crime and were sentenced to a cell rather than the tiny, decrepit cabin I live in.” I held up a finger. “Though I promise you, the food wouldn
’t be nearly as good.”
I shook my head until their amusement softened.
Use what you have.
“So, I don’t have much, but I offered it to her—whatever she needed.” I bent forward, linking my hands in front of me. “And I gave her my support. Every day. I’m still giving her my support.”
Do what you can.
“And, it made me think about that label. Alcoholic.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “Because of that label, I’m here. Just like all of you.” My eyes linked with each of the other’s in the circle. “Because of that label, I’m judged. Maybe just like some of you. Because of that label, I wake up each day feeling like I have to do more than the rest of the world to make up for the mistakes I’ve made. Maybe just like some of you.”
I drew an unsteady breath.
“But because of that label, I was able to be here for her. I was able to take care of her. To feel her baby,” I said, the awe I’d felt when my hand rested on Tay’s stomach and the life moving inside it permeating my voice and making my throat thicken.
Because of that label, she was here, and I was able to feel a whole lot more for her than I should—than I had any right to. But this wasn’t the time or place to share that…
“Because of that label, I was able to help someone, just like you can.”
A strange laugh slipped from my lips and I brushed a hand over my cheek, stunned by the wetness I found there.
“I regret the things I did while alcohol ruled my life, nothing will change that. But today, I was less ashamed of that label than I was grateful for where it led me.”
My eyes drifted shut and all I could see was Taylor lying there with my hand on her stomach. There was so much emotion to that moment it felt like it exploded inside of me, blowing through everything I thought I knew, everything I felt.
“It was only a split second, but if I’m being honest, it was the first time I felt nothing but gratitude for everything that happened to bring me here. It was the first time, I thought to myself, ‘I wouldn’t change a thing.’”
The silence drew out and I wondered if anything I said even made sense.
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