Finally Ours (Harborview #2)

31. Carter

31

CARTER

“I swear the tourists get here earlier and earlier each year,” Jamie says, cracking open his beer. Beside him, Hunter is swirling whiskey around in his glass, and I’ve opted for a pint of stout.

We’re at O’Malley’s, the local dive bar and our regular haunt, and it’s quickly becoming packed despite the early hour. And not just with locals.

“How did they hear about this place?” I ask. “And why would they want to be here?” The summer season doesn’t normally start until the Fourth of July, so there must be an event or something that has drawn so many people to the area.

“Hey! Don’t talk about O’Malley’s like that,” Hunter says, indignant. “It has charm.”

“It does. If charm means smelling like stale beer.”

“Don’t forget the cracked window,” Jamie adds, jerking his head to the shattered glass in front of us.

“I’m coming by with my crew to fix that for them later in the week,” Hunter offers. “The Redwin cousins got into a fight again and broke it.”

“Figures. Those two can’t act nice to one another for more than five minutes,” I mutter.

“I thought they were banned from this place,” Hunter muses.

We chat about the Redwins and their antics, including a discussion of the time they got into a shouting match on Main Street during the summer and scared half the tourists out of town, until Jamie stops us and interjects.

“Enough about the Redwins. I want to get to the juicy stuff.” And then he turns his gaze on me, and I swear his baby blues turn into laser beams.

“What juicy stuff?” I ask innocently. “Nothing to talk about on my end.” I give them a smile to let them know I’m kidding—I wouldn’t be me if I shared easily.

Jamie just continues to look at me, his laser beams burrowing into my soul.

“Fine, fine,” I say. “I’ll tell you all about Angela.”

Hunter lets out a whoop and Jamie just smirks. I take a long drink from my beer, and think for a moment about what to say, mostly because I’m not entirely sure where Angela and I stand, but I do know that it’s going well.

“Angela and I,” I start, “are dating. I think.”

“How come you’re not sure?” Jamie asks.

“Because it’s been a fucking minute since I dated anyone,” I admit.

“You’ve basically been celibate these last two years,” Hunter says, in a joking tone.

“Something like that,” I say. “I surprised her with take out and pie the other night. And we text every day. And she told me that she’s trying to trust me.” I try to keep the hopeful note out of my voice, but I know I fail at it.

“Why doesn’t she trust you yet?” Jamie asks. “You’ve done a hell of a lot for her recently.”

“I’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“You kept her alive on that island,” Jamie points out. “She could at least take that as assurance that you care.”

“It’s not like that,” I say, feeling myself get defensive about Angela. “She has a lot of trust issues. She knows I helped her on the island and she knows I care. But she doesn’t have assurance that I’m staying.”

“I just think?—

Hunter interrupts Jamie. “Lay off her, man. Carter hurt her before and he’s trying to make up for that. It takes some people a while to trust.”

“Fine. But I just want you two to be happy,” Jamie grumbles.

“It’s getting there,” I admit.

We head to the bar and get a second round, and then decide to move outside with our beers. Inside O’Malley’s is now crammed with tourists and locals alike, and the patio out back is much quieter. It’s still a bit chilly out, but we see a few groups of people we know and stop to chat with them. We sit at a wooden picnic table that is next to the corn hole boards. A few guys we went to high school with are playing, and we exchange nods.

Even if Angela wasn’t on the table, would I want to give this up for the job in Iceland? I like knowing most people in Harborview. I like walking into O’Malley’s and knowing who’s a local and who’s a tourist. And I like being a local. I’ve always enjoyed traveling because it’s an adventure with an expiration date. After the trip ends, I get to come back here, to Harborview.

This job in Iceland would mean I was away from home for months at a time, and I don’t even know if they’d want me to be based permanently out there with the rest of the team. Field work in Iceland is one thing, but moving there for three years is another.

“What’s up, man?” Hunter asks, clearly noticing that something is off with me.

“I’ve used enough of your free therapy tonight, I think.”

“Nah,” Hunter says. “That’s not how it works.”

“Is it the PhD?” Jamie asks. They both know how stressful it’s been lately, and how badly I just want to finish.

“Honestly, that’s finally going well. I’ll be submitting it soon. Should be done by the end of the month.”

“That’s sick man!” Hunter exclaims. “We’ve gotta have a party once you’re officially Dr. Steel.”

“Sure,” I say, my stomach twisting at the idea. Mostly because I’d have to invite my parents, out of obligation, and I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t come. They haven’t been up to Harborview in months, preferring to spend all of their time in Florida.

“I’ll be happy just to go out for dinner with you guys and Cat and Angela,” I tell them.

“Dare I ask what comes after the PhD?” Jamie says. “I know that when I was finishing law school, I felt like I was about to be pushed off of a cliff.”

“I applied for a teaching job at the university, and I had an interview for a postdoc a few weeks ago.”

“That’s great man,” Hunter says.

“But it’s in Iceland,” I say. “For three years.”

“Oh fuck,” he says, immediately realizing the issue.

“Yeah.”

“What will you do if you get it?” Jamie asks.

“I don’t know. Turn it down, I think.” I don’t mention that it’s my dream job. That research projects like this don’t come along very often, and that if I don’t take it, I could be stuck teaching introductory courses to undergrads for the rest of my career.

“Really?” Jamie says. “That wouldn’t be like you.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, my voice a bit harsh.

“Just that you’re ambitious. Driven. You’ve put a lot of time and hard work into school.”

I sit with that for a moment, swirling my beer around in my glass and thinking. He’s right. I am ambitious. But right now my ambitions are firmly turned towards Angela, and Angela only.

“There’s more to life than being a successful academic. I didn’t know that before, and it cost me. I’m not making the same mistake again. Not with Angela.” I know I sound stubborn, like I can make things work with Angela out of sheer force of will and conviction and nothing else. “Look, there are plenty of ways that I could fuck this relationship up,” I tell them. “But if I do, it’s not going to be because I abandon her for a job and do the exact same thing I did last time. I’m smarter than that.”

“Then let’s cheers to things working out between you and Angela,” Jamie says.

We clink our glasses and drain our drinks, and I smile at the thought of being here in Harborview with Angela for the rest of our lives.

And if my stomach twists in anxiety because this is the only postdoc that’s been posted in my field this entire year? Well, then so be it. I guess I’ll just have to find something else.