Finally Ours (Harborview #2)

30. Angela

30

ANGELA

The next day, I wake up alone in my bed, but happy nonetheless. Carter and I hung out until about 10:00 p.m., talking and watching silly animal videos on his phone, and then I sent him home. I may be more than happy to let him eat me out against a wall, but sleepovers are…a lot for me, given my insomnia, and I wanted to get a restful night of sleep on my own. We only shared a bed on Isle North out of necessity, after all.

I grab my phone off the nightstand and send Cat a text.

I think you’re right. Carter and I are definitely dating, whatever that means. He surprised me with dinner last night and then we uh…well, you can guess.

She responds almost immediately.

OH MY GOD. I knew it. And dating just means you’re figuring things out!

Okay, you’re right. I’m gonna try not to freak out about it.

Are you happy?

I hesitate before responding.

Yes, I am.

Good. I guess I did the right thing when I didn’t try very hard to find a charter company to come get you guys from Isle North!

This makes me laugh, and honestly isn’t much of a surprise. Cat is a romantic at heart.

You little rat! But I forgive you.

Unfortunately for me, my good mood lasts all of ten minutes, because Tony texts me to let me know that I’m needed at the hospital. Apparently one of Steph’s kids is sick. I get that it’s not her fault, but I just want another day off in peace.

I think for a moment about what Carter would do. He probably wouldn’t answer the text at all. But if I don’t come in, it’s doubtful they’ll fill the shift with anyone else, since nearly all of the other nurses have child-care duties, and I don’t want to leave them understaffed. I’m the person who’s always able to fill in because I live by myself, have no kids, and no boyfriend.

I text Tony back and let him know I can do it. If I get dressed and ready now, I’ll get to the hospital by 9:00 a.m. and be out of there by the early evening. Tony thanks me over text profusely, and I roll my eyes. At least I’ll get overtime pay for this. I repeat that phrase in my head over and over as I quickly make coffee, shovel oatmeal into my mouth, and pack my scrubs and crocs.

I wish I was spending the day as I’d planned: watching TV on my couch and then going to the art supply store a few towns over. Carter’s question last night made me realize that I’ve let my hobbies slip away once again, despite feeling so excited about getting back into art while we were on Isle North.

I look at the painting on my mantel. It’s a view of the ocean from Huddle’s Cove, and I must have painted it five or six years ago now. It’s the last big piece I did, and probably the one I’m most proud of. My moms have tons of my art from when I was a kid hung up at their house, and I’d love to give them something done by my adult self.

I promise myself that I’ll go to the art store tomorrow, and then I head out the door.

Exactly ten and a half exhausting hours later, I’m pulling into the parking lot behind Cat’s bookstore, stuffing fries into my mouth and slurping Coke. As soon as I left work, I got take out from a side of the road burger joint that just opened for the summer season, and it was delicious. That’s the thing I love so much about Harborview—the nearest McDonald’s is forty-five minutes away, but our local food more than makes up for it.

I scarf down the rest of my food, and then walk over to the bookstore. I ring the bell on the back door, and hope that Cat is at home. I don’t want to rattle around my house all night alone because I’ll just think about Carter. And I’m worried that if I think too much about him, then I’ll call him to come over, and he’ll be busy or not want to come. In all my previous relationships, I had to measure out affection carefully. If I texted too much or asked them to hang out multiple times in a row, they would stop responding or get weirded out. It’s been so damn long since I just acted like myself in a relationship that I’m not even sure how to do it. The last time I was able to be myself with a man was with Carter…seven years ago.

Cat opens the door, wine glass in hand, and I can hear a chorus of laughter coming from inside the store.

“Angela!” she screeches and pulls me in for a hug.

“I wanted to see if you were free, but from the sounds of it, you’ve got book club tonight,” I say.

“Why don’t you join us,” she says, tugging me inside.

“No, I mean, I definitely haven’t read the book,” I say.

“We’re past that part of the evening. Now we’re just drinking wine, gossiping, and talking about our problems.”

“Sign me up,” I tell her. “But are either of my moms here?”

“Nope, Kate skipped tonight because apparently she and Donna have a cute date planned.”

“Sounds like them.” My moms are truly adorable together, still as in love with one another now as they were when they started dating.

I follow Cat through the store and into the community room. Harborview’s only romance book club is seated on comfy armchairs in a circle, books discarded on the floor or on tables and glasses of wine and snacks in hand. Cat immediately pours me some wine and gestures to the empty chair.

“Everyone,” she says, “Angela is joining us tonight.”

I wave and nod. I’ve met most of them before. A few of them like Jacqueline, Teresa, and Anne were at Cat’s bachelorette party, and others I recognize from around town. I settle into my chair, and Cat scoots hers closer to me.

“So,” she whispers. “Tell me about last night.”

“Which part do you want to hear about? The part where Carter ate me out against my kitchen wall, or the part where he brought me the last slice of Beth’s plum pie,” I whisper back, feeling my cheeks heat. But it feels nice to have something fun to share about my dating life for once.

“He what?! Oh my god, that’s so romantic,” Cat sighs.

“Which part?” I ask, laughing.

“Are you two talking about men?” Ann Peterson interjects from the other side of Cat. She must have ears like a bat because we were whispering the entire time.

“Nothing escapes you, Ann,” Cat says.

“Don’t hold out on us girls, give us the details!” Ann’s loud New York accent rings out in the small space, and suddenly every head is turning our way.

“Is there man trouble?” Teresa asks. She pops a few chips into her mouth and chews exaggeratedly like she’s eating popcorn at a movie and it just got to the good part.

“Ohhhh,” a young woman named Alex says.

“We haven’t had any good man trouble in a while,” Jacqueline says.

“Well,” I start, “I wouldn’t say it’s trouble. The opposite actually.”

Cackles and ohs and ahs rise from the room.

“Tell them about the wall,” Cat encourages.

“Oh, I love a good wall scene,” Alex says. “Did you knock any pictures off the wall? Please tell me you knocked pictures off of the wall.”

“I’m not saying anything,” I tell them. “I won’t even confirm or deny if there was a wall. But there was a piece of pie from Beth's that he brought me along with dinner. And it was delicious.”

“I bet pie wasn’t the only delicious thing that went on!” Ann says, letting out a whoop.

I can’t help but laugh at that as well, even as I feel my usual embarrassment at being the center of attention rise to the surface.

“Tell us about him,” Teresa encourages.

“I mean…” I trail off, unsure where to start, and unsure if I even want to give them details. Carter and I haven’t exactly gone public with the fact that we are dating yet, and I’m sure the town gossip mills will start churning when we do. It’s just the way of small towns—anytime someone gets into a new relationship, or gets engaged, or has a kid, or hell, even gets a new job, everyone else has to give their opinion on it. The flipside of this is that anytime someone gets hurt or experiences hard times, the community is there looking out for them and offering support.

“If this was a romance novel, what kind would it be?” Alex asks, throwing me a bone.

“Um,” I say. “I mean I’m not really sure since I don’t read that?—

“An outsider in our midst!” Ann shrieks. “Cat, how could you?”

“Angela is my best friend! And she’s going to come to the next book club and read the book, she promised,” Cat says. I don’t argue because I don’t want to face Ann’s wrath.

“He’s someone I dated a while ago, for a brief period of time,” I say.

“So it's a second chance romance!” Alex says. “My favorite.”

Second chance sounds about right for Carter and I, I just hope we figure it out this time.

“Enough about me, though, who else has man drama to discuss?” I say.

Teresa tells us about the surprise date her husband took her on last week, and Alex hints at a new crush she has on someone in town. Cat talks about the wedding plans for a bit, and then Ann admits that she’s been emailing with an old fling from New York. Only Jacqueline sits there quietly, not saying much.

“What about you, Jacqueline?” I ask. Jacqueline might be a best-selling romance author and Harborview’s biggest local celebrity, but there’s a reason she only made her identity public last year. She’s pretty shy, from everything I know about her.

She doesn’t answer my question immediately, but after a minute says, “I went to the hardware store the other day.”

And that’s enough to send the room into an uproar.

Years ago, back when they were in high school, Jacqueline Whitimer and Billy Bryce were in love. But they broke up for an unknown reason, and she went on to become a teacher and then a writer, and he took over the local hardware store from his father. I’m guessing Jacqueline has avoided it like the plague for years.

Until now.

But for all Ann and Cat’s cajoling, Jacqueline won’t say anything else. And I find myself liking her more and more. She’s shy, but confident and down to earth, just like I am. A kindred spirit of sorts.

I decide that I’m reading the book for next month, and I’m attending book club. I need to have a life outside of work, and this is where it starts.