by Sarah Smith
Chapter 22
I weave my way through the booths at the Aloha Maui Farmer’s Market in a daze. Three days since my romantic grand gesture and no word from Callum. Penelope even saved my live video on her Instagram highlights in case he didn’t catch it right away. But it doesn’t look like he’s going to see it at all. If that’s not a crystal clear sign that I’ve misread absolutely everything about us, then I don’t know what is.
I survey the array of fruits, vegetables, and other yummy goods surrounding me to distract myself from that sobering fact. Keeping busy in the aftermath of his silent rejection is a must. Even though we were never officially together, our time apart hurts worse than when I called it quits with any past boyfriend. Filling my time with work, menu planning for Travaasa Hana, farmer’s market visits, and spending time with Penelope is the way I cope.
Swimming at Big Beach helps too. No more early morning swims at Little Beach though. Too much of a risk of running into Callum. Given his radio silence, he’s made it abundantly clear he wants nothing to do with me.
I survey a lilikoi at a nearby stand, wondering if the passion fruit semifreddo I’m planning to serve for dessert at Travaasa Hana will wow like I hope. It’s two weeks until my first solo dinner service, and I want to blow everyone away.
My phone buzzing in my pocket pulls my mind back to the present and away from imaginary meal planning. An alert from Instagram. When I see it’s a message from Madeline, I let out a squeal so giddy that the people next to me gawk like I’ve grown another head.
Nikki! Oh my gosh, you have NO idea how happy I am to hear from you! Please, don’t apologize. I’m beyond thrilled you got in touch with me! How are you? Have you filmed your commercial yet? What else have you been up to? Sorry I didn’t message you back sooner; things have been so busy! But now I’m all good! OMG OMG OMG Tell me everything!
The smile on my face won’t budge. Even after all this time, Madeline is happy to hear from me. And she still wants to be my friend.
I start to type a response answering all of her questions, but stop when I realize I want to call her. I want to actually speak to my friend. So I tell her.
ME: SO happy to hear from you, Madeline! I have so much to tell you!! Can I call you sometime?
MADELINE: Um, hell yes! Are you free tonight? I can call you after I get done with my shift at the restaurant
Just the mention of my old restaurant sends a jolt through my chest. I want to hear about Madeline, about the restaurant, about absolutely everything.
I tell her that I’m open for a chat this evening and can’t wait to catch up. She responds with a half dozen smiley face emojis.
A squeal pulls my attention to the crowd behind me. I slide my phone back in my pocket and watch as a crowd of market goers slowly forms to watch a couple standing in the scenic grassy area several feet away. A handsome Thor look-alike with short curly hair is down on one knee, ring box in hand, smiling up at a pretty hapa woman. She’s late twenties and beaming, tears in her eyes, blinking like she can’t believe the sight in front of her.
It’s all the telltale signs of a proposal: her cupping her mouth with both hands, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, nonstop nodding before he can even get the question out. Everyone—even those in the nosebleed section in the back of the crowd—knows what he’s about to say.
“Will you marry me?” he asks.
“Tate! Of course I will!” she sob-laughs.
The entire crowd bursts into applause at her answer. Her fiancé slides the dazzling ring on her finger before popping to his feet and pulling her into a hug. There’s a kiss that I suspect is more passionate than those two would usually indulge in publicly due to the occasion. Because they’re seconds into their engagement and basking in one of the happiest, most romantic moments of their lives.
The blissed-out couple finally turns to the cheering crowd around them, their faces displaying twin gigantic smiles. Even I join in on the clapping. I may be navigating a romantic low at the moment, but their joy is contagious. This couple is insanely in love, and any decent person should acknowledge that.
The man standing in front of me lets out an enthusiastic “whoop” while clapping, then spins around. My smile drops. It’s Finn.
The stunned expression on his face when he sees me lasts only a second. He softens to a polite smile. “Exciting times at the farmer’s market.”
I don’t say anything. It’s not possible with my tongue at the back of my throat. Finn, the brother of the man I love—the man I lost—is standing in front of me. What on earth could I possibly say to him?
When I’m silent for a solid five seconds, he clears his throat. “We need to stop running into each other like this.” He laughs, the stilted sound a giveaway for how uneasy he is. “Because, you know . . . remember the last time we, um, saw each other at the market?”
I let out the breath I’m holding, and all the muscles in my neck loosen. This is clearly just as awkward for him, but he’s making an effort to be pleasant. I should too.
“How have you been, Finn?”
“Good. Busy.”
“How are Lemon and the kittens?” I’m dying to visit them, but I’m not sure how I can bridge the gap of Callum’s rejection to ask if I can take them for a while.
He beams when I mention them. “Adorable. It turns out the gray one’s a girl and the two others are boys.”
I’m about to ask if they’re leaning toward any names yet when a stunning brunette woman saunters up to Finn. He turns to her, scoops her hand in his, and pecks her lips. I have to physically restrain myself from saying “aww” out loud. Finn and his lady are ridiculously cute together. There must be something in the water. Everyone around me has been bitten by the love bug, it seems.
She smiles at me and sticks out her hand. “I’m Grace.”
Returning the pleasantry, I shake her hand. Then I pause while still gripping her. The memory of hiding in Callum’s closet while he talked to Finn slingshots to the front of my mind. This is the woman Finn was gushing about.
“Oh, you’re Grace!”
They’re both speechless at my comment. I have a lot of explaining to do.
“I um . . .” I attempt a smile. “This is going to sound terribly creepy, but do you remember Easter weekend when you two went camping at Haleakala?”
Confusion mars their faces as they nod. I quickly explain how I overhead Callum’s conversation with Finn while I was hiding in his closet, back when we were trying to keep our relationship under wraps.
Grace chuckles while Finn bursts into laughter.
“Wow. You were quite committed to keeping things with Callum a secret, weren’t you?” he says.
“We figured it would be easier that way,” I say.
Grace excuses herself to check out the jewelry stand next to us.
Finn shakes his head. “Maybe you thought it would be easier, Nikki. But all Callum wanted was to make things official with you.”
“It took me a while to see that,” I mutter. “I thought we both were fine with the casual thing. I know I wasn’t his one and only.”
This time the wrinkles in his forehead read confused.
“You don’t have to cover for him, Finn. While I was hiding in the closet, I overheard you two talking about that other woman he was seeing.”
“What other woman?”
“Don’t you remember? That same conversation when you were talking about going camping with Grace, you asked when he was going to spill his guts to that woman he was into, that woman he had history with.”
Finn tilts his head to the side, his face making a seamless transition from confusion to clarity. “Nikki. I was talking about you.”
Finn’s words from that morning echo in my head.
It’s so bloody obvious how you feel about her. You’ve got history together. Why don’t you just tell
her already. No use in putting it off . . .
“Ever since Callum met you, you’ve been the only woman on his radar,” Finn says. “And despite everything that happened between you two, you still are.”
My throat tightens. I want to believe Finn more than anything, but he could be mistaken. We were able to hide a good chunk of our relationship from him for a while. Maybe he’s in the dark about Callum’s true feelings now too.
Finn pats my shoulder.
I sniffle. “I guess it doesn’t matter now since my grand gesture for him was a total fail.”
“What grand gesture?”
I give him a brief summary of the live video on Penelope’s Instagram where I declared my love for Callum, hoping that he’d hear about it over social media and reach out to me.
A bewildered look flashes across Finn’s face. “I doubt Callum has even seen it.”
“How do you know that?”
“A couple of the volunteers at the animal clinic in Paia quit, so we’ve been helping out there when we’re not at the food truck. Even I haven’t had a chance to keep up with all the social media happenings, and that’s part of my job for Hungry Chaps. And if I missed out on it, Callum certainly has. He’s pretty much been working from sunup until bedtime this past week. This is our first day off in a while actually.”
My head spins at this influx of new information. If what Finn says is true, if Callum really has been too busy to see my grand gesture, then I may still have a chance.
“He’s home right now. You should go see him.” There’s a glimmer in Finn’s eye, like he knows that despite his reassuring words, the only way I can be completely sure is to hear it from Callum.
He turns to Grace, and they wave good-bye.
The tiniest sliver of hope bursts inside of me. If Finn’s so sure about this, maybe I should believe him.
I take off in a jog to my car and head for Callum’s condo. With each mile I clock, my breath quickens. I speed along the road, taking each turn and sharp corner like I’m a deranged race car driver. It’s not reckless driving; it’s purposeful. I’ve got a man to declare my love for. I ease my foot off the gas pedal when I reach ten miles past the speed limit. I highly doubt that if I were pulled over for speeding, the officer would care for my excuse of breaking the law in the name of love. I can just imagine the eye roll before the officer sternly scrawls my ticket.
I dial it back to the speed limit and take a deep breath. My heart is racing, my hands are clammier than ever, and I’m gripping onto my steering wheel like I’m trying to strangle it.
When I pull up to his street, I force myself to take another deep breath. I spot his car in the driveway, and my heartbeat takes on a frenzied pace. Should I blurt “I love you” when I see him? Should I start off with a calm and casual, “Hello, how are you?” instead? Should I run up and kiss him first?
“It’s okay,” I coach myself with a whisper. The thundering in my chest and all my warring thoughts come to a halt. The words will come to me when I see him.
I zero in on the door to his condo. Slowly, I peel my hands off the steering wheel and reach for my car door handle.
Just then his condo door opens. Out walks a stunning redhead. My hand freezes on the handle of my door, and my heart seizes in my chest. He follows closely behind, the grin on his face just as wide as hers.
This time when I try to breathe, the air lodges in my throat, like I’m choking on a piece of cement. It’s like I’m paralyzed, unable to cry or scream, even though my body aches to do both. But all I can do is gawk with unblinking, unbelieving eyes at the scene in front of me.
Halfway to his car, she stops to show him something on her phone. A warm breeze swoops up her fiery locks. She looks like a beauty queen with her porcelain skin, those delicate facial features, and killer curves. The kind of woman both men and women stop dead in their tracks to stare at because you wouldn’t believe a human being could look so beautiful unless you saw it with your own eyes.
I stare not in envy, but in utter sadness. Because the sight of this gorgeous woman means one thing: I’m too late.
The two stand close to each other, close enough to let me know that this isn’t a friend. No matter what Finn thinks about Callum’s feelings for me, this is someone special.
Seconds later, the two throw their heads back in laughter. A funny video or text message, I presume. They stand and chat, still smiling, still laughing. And I watch it all, slinking low in my seat, like an obsessed stalker who can’t believe her eyes.
But I have to believe it. Because it’s true.
Callum is off the market. It wouldn’t matter if I ran up and kissed him, then told him I loved him. He’s no longer available. He’s with her now because I was too much of a closed-off jerk to recognize what I could have had when he offered it to me.
And because of that, he will never, ever be mine.
He leads her with his hand on the small of her back to the car and opens the door for her. I wait until they’re both in before I peel out on the road, speeding away in a cloud of burnt rubber. The toxic stench assaults my nostrils every time I take a breath, but I don’t care. I just need to get the hell away from here as fast as I can.
I try to swallow back the sob at the back of my throat. Hot tears crowd my eyes until I can’t hold them back any longer. I blink, and it’s like a dam breaking.
It’s not like there’s anyone watching me. I’m alone in the car, speeding to nowhere in particular, and now there’s a rock in my stomach. It’s regret and sadness balled into one. And it’s all my fault.
A million what-ifs fly through my mind.
What if I hadn’t been so stubborn?
What if I hadn’t been so closed off?
What if I had just let my guard down and taken a risk?
I wipe my runny nose with the back of my hand. It’s not like poring over these doubts does any good now.
I stare at the road ahead through my blurry vision. Crying won’t solve anything, I know that. But somehow I need to leach out this pain, this frustration, this sorrow. The rock in my stomach is now a boulder. Inside, I scold myself for not consuming anything this morning except for some crappy French herbal tea I found at the back of the pantry.
A minute later the boulder burns. Grief and regret have a funny effect on my GI system, because I’m suddenly nauseous. Christ on a stick, I’m going to be sick. Great. That’s just what I need after watching the man I love pair up with someone new from fifteen feet away.
When the acid in my stomach curdles, I have to swallow back a heave. I’ve got seconds before vomiting. Yanking on the steering wheel, I pull to the side of the road and open my car door just in time to puke that French herbal tea onto the concrete.
Chapter 23
Are we good, Nikki?” Penelope asks from the back of the food truck.
It’s the end of another busy day at Makena Road, and both Penelope and I are ready to head home.
“I think so,” I say.
We step out of the food truck, and I hand her the keys. “Thank you again for helping out today. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”
Penelope scrunches her face and waves her hand. “Oh, please. It was my pleasure. All those times I begged you to let me work the truck and you finally caved. I had a great time.”
She smiles, not an ounce of fatigue apparent in her cheery expression or sparkling blue eyes even though we just pulled a ten-hour shift. I pull her in for a bear hug. She saved my skin today when Mrs. Tokushige’s nephew called in sick. It was Mom’s day off, and I dreaded asking her to fill in at the last minute, even though I know she happily would have.
Penelope and I break apart, but she keeps hold of my arms. “Anytime you need an extra hand, call me. My schedule is flexible, and I love working here.”
I chuckle. “You’ve only done it once so far.”
“I know, but it was amazing. Seriously. I thrive in fast-paced environments.”
It’s true. Penelope was a natural, balancing orders, helping me with the food prep, and cleaning up like she’s been doing it for years. I don’t know if I’ve ever worked with anyone who caught on that quickly.
It’s been two days since upchucking my tea on the open road, and I’m on the path back to normal. No more annoying vloggers asking me invasive personal questions. They still show up, but to order the food and film themselves chowing down for their websites like they used to do.
“You were amazing on the live video,” Penelope says as we make our way to the front of the truck. “I know I’ve said that a million times, but I mean it. You were so bold to do it.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t really work out.” I wince at what a sad sack I sound like.
She stops in front of the driver’s side door. “Don’t say that. You put yourself out there. That took major balls.”
I smile softly at her phrasing.
“You ready to head home?” She opens the door.
I reach for the bag I packed under the front seat. “Actually, I think I want to go for a swim at Little Beach tonight.”
It’s been ages since I’ve seriously entertained the thought of swimming there. It used to be my go-to place to decompress when life and work got to be too much. But ever since the falling-out with Callum, I haven’t dared to set foot there. The thought of running into him sends me into near hives, even more so now that he has someone new and I could possibly see them together.
But it’s eight thirty on a weeknight in the middle of the summer, meaning the beach will be crowded. He probably won’t be there since he prefers early-morning swims. But if he is, it’s unlikely he would see me through the crowd.
“You sure?” Penelope asks.
“Positive.”
“But what if you run into . . . you know . . .” She frowns, her worry radiating all the way from her furrowed brow to her scrunched lips.