CHAPTER TWENTY
BONNIE
Broken heart: One . . . still.
Times I’ve thrown up from nerves: Three.
Texts and calls that have been returned: None.
Amount of cake eaten to mask my feelings: Let’s just say I’ve had to make a lot of cherry cake this week.
Today is the big day, and I’m not sure if I want to cry, smile, or go throw up again.
Deep breaths.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
Everything is going to be okay.
In one two three, out one two three.
Tamping down the threatening nausea, I glance around the coffee shop one last time. One minute to open, and I don’t feel ready—despite burying my head in work the last few days.
I’ve baked, practiced drinks, perfected every last detail when it comes to the shop, and made sure to collect pamphlets from everyone around town so I can promote all the special points of Corsekelly to tourists. Even with all that, I don’t feel ready, and I think I know why: I don’t have my two rocks next to me.
I haven’t heard anything from Rowan or Dakota, and it’s slowly eating away at me. My only hope is that they show up today and let me apologize profusely in person, which will lead to us hugging it out and everything going back to normal.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I quickly pull it out to see the alarm I set for myself. Opening day.
With one more deep breath, I go to the front door, reach out my shaky hand, and open it. Expecting to see a few smiling faces, I put on a smile myself and step outside, where I’m greeted by . . . no one.
My smile fades, and my heart sinks. I glance around and look down the street, off toward the Hairy Coo Footpath, but . . . nothing. Not one soul.
Not one friend.
Not one boyfriend.
Absolutely no one.
Trying not to get upset—I just opened, after all—I place the OPEN flag in its holster, prop the door open completely, and then step back into the coffee shop, where I try to busy myself.
I move around the counter, straightening mugs for the tenth time this morning. Then I check to make sure everything is stocked up, confirm that there are plenty of butteries, scones, and cake in the pastry case. I tuck in the napkins to be sure they’re not crooked. All set, just like it was a half hour ago.
Tables are clean.
Vases have fresh flowers.
Drinks are ready to be made.
There’s nothing else I can do.
I glance down at my phone. Ten thirty.
My heart sinks.
I can’t believe that not one person has shown up. But, most importantly, I can’t believe Rowan and Dakota aren’t here. Did I hurt them so badly that they won’t be here for me? Are they so angry they refuse to come support me?
Dakota and I have fought before, but never at this level. She knows how hard I’ve been working. She knows how important this is to me. Is she really not going to show up?
Feeling distraught, I sit down in the chair behind the counter and bounce my legs up and down.
Please don’t fail.
Please don’t fail.
I’m not sure what will happen to my self-esteem if this doesn’t work out, if I once again fail to pull it together to make something of myself. To make something of my life.
Time passes.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
An hour.
And no one.
Not one tour bus. Not one customer.
I sink deeper and deeper into my chair, tears streaking down my cheeks, depression starting to sink in.
When the clock hits one in the afternoon, I crumble to the floor and lean against the wall, my heart shattering into a million pieces.
Not a single soul has come to the shop.
No texts.
No phone calls.
I’m not sure what hurts more—that Rowan and Dakota never showed up, or that I’ve failed. I pick at a piece of lint on my leggings as I consider it. There is no doubt in my mind which one hurts more.
Dakota and Rowan.
“Hello?” a voice calls out.
Shit.
I wipe at my face and stand from the floor as Leith walks up to the counter. “Hell, I’m sorry it took me so long to come in.” He thumbs toward the door. “A tour bus got stuck in a ditch just outside of town, and we all went out to help.”
“We?” I ask, just as Lachlan comes through the door, huffing.
“Are there butteries left?” he asks in a panic.
“Och, Fergus, out of the way,” Shona says as she steps into the coffee house, followed closely by Hamish, Alasdair, and . . . Isla.
“There’s still butteries!” Leith shouts down the line.
The little line cheers, and—God help me—I start bawling like a baby.
The community has shown up for me. At least there are some people out there who appreciate the hard work I’ve put in.
“Lass, you okay?” Leith asks.
I nod and wipe at my eyes. “Yes, sorry.” I take a deep breath. “Just . . . no one came in, and I just thought . . .”
“Aye, we’ve been legs deep in mud all morning. There was a landslide just outside of town, and a tour bus got stuck. All the other tour buses had to divert for the day, but we’re all cleaned up now, and the road is good to go. Trust me, I would have been here sooner after yesterday’s buttery.” He pats his stomach. “We might be personal trainers, but we don’t mind a little buttery on the bones.”
He winks as Lachlan slings an arm around his neck. “And butteries aren’t the only things we’ll shred.”
“Well, thank you,” I say, smiling through tears. “Would you like a drink too?”
“Tea, please. Earl Grey.” Leith nods to one of the tables. “Gotta grab a table before Shona can.”
“Och, that’s very gentlemanly of you,” Shona calls out.
They all laugh, and so do I as I prepare their orders, which I spend the next few moments filling. Hamish cleaned me out of the tattie scones, said he was going to take them to the locals who helped with the cleanup.
By the time Isla comes to the counter, I have two butteries left and a few slices of cake. She smiles kindly and reaches out to take my hand. “You did a great job, Bonnie.”
“Thank you,” I say, returning a sad smile while the elephant in the room practically chokes all the air out of my lungs. “How’s . . . Dakota?”
Isla’s brow creases. “What do you mean, ‘How’s Dakota?’ I thought she was with you.”
Panic tightens my chest. “No, I thought she was with you. We had a fight, and I just assumed she went to stay with you these past few days.”
Isla’s eyes look wild now as she shakes her head. “No, she said she was taking some time to think about things. I thought . . . I thought she was with you.”
“Oh my God.” I quickly grab my phone and try giving her a call. As expected, she doesn’t answer. “Have you called or texted her?”
“No, I was giving her some space.” Isla pulls out her phone as well. “Should I call her?”
“Yes, see if she answers.” Panic turns into fear as my mind reels back to the weeks after Isabella broke up with Dakota. She fell into a deep depression, and it took her a while to climb out of it. There were a few nights when I slept in her bed with her, just to let her know I loved her, I was there for her, that she was worth so much more than the way Isabella had treated her.
Isla gnaws on her bottom lip as the phone rings. I hold my breath, terrified. I can hear her voice mail pick up, and my stomach drops. Isla glances at me, wide eyed, and when the beep sounds off, she says, “Hiya, Dakota, it’s me. I know you wanted some space, but I’m just checking on you to make sure you’re all right. Please call me.” She hangs up and shifts in place. “What do we do?”
I glance around the coffee shop. “Find her.” Clearing my throat, I face my very first patrons. “Hey, you guys, something has come up, and I’m going to need to close.”
Leith lifts his head, halfway through eating his buttery. “Is everything okay?”
“Hopefully,” I say. “I hate to kick you out, especially since you showed up to support me, but . . . do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Shona says, gathering everyone and shoving them out the door.
Leith stays behind, though, and when everyone is out of earshot, he asks, “Does this have to do with Rowan? We haven’t heard from him in a few days, and since he’s not here today and didn’t even respond to help with the tour bus, I thought maybe you two didn’t figure things out.”
“I mean, no . . . but . . . you haven’t heard from him?” I ask, more concern growing.
“No, but that’s normal too. He can get into these moods where he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’ll sometimes go up north and stay in the family cottage up there. If you two had words, he’s probably up there.”
Oh.
So . . . he’s just mad.
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “Well, thanks for letting me know.” Leith gives me a quick nod and heads out of the coffee shop.
Isla moves to the counter and takes my hand. “Where do we start?”
I clutch my phone. “Find My Phone. We’ll track her down.”
I open up the app and quickly click on Dakota’s name. Isla leans over, and when the app pinpoints her, Isla nods next to me. “Badicaul. I know where she is. Come on. I’ll drive.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened with Rowan?” Isla says as we drive to what seems to be an outlook on a beach in Badicaul, northwest of Corsekelly. When we spotted her on Find My Phone, Isla explained that it was a place she’d told Dakota about on one of their dates. She said she didn’t think there was anything dangerous there—no cliffs or anything like that—which now eases my beating heart, slightly. Not that I think Dakota would hurt herself, but then again, I’m not sure what kind of mental state she’s in at this point.
Staring out the window, I watch the rolling green hills pass by as I shake my head. “Not really. I don’t think there’s much to talk about, honestly. I already went through all of it with Leith.”
“Did he say Rowan would come round?”
“Pretty much.”
“Trust him—he’s right.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to rein in my emotions. I’m over crying at this point. I’ve shed way too many tears.
“But honestly, if he does come around, hasn’t the damage already been done?” I ask, my mind racing with disappointment. Did I push him away by being too caught up with my own life problems, just like I did with Dakota?
“Is the damage so bad you can’t work through it?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper as we pull down a dirt road and go toward the water’s edge.
Nerves tickle my throat, tightening my vocal cords. We curve around a bend, and then our MINI Cooper comes into view, followed by Dakota, sitting on the flat ground overlooking the shore. She’s staring out at the water, her legs pulled to her chest.
“There she is,” Isla says, relief in her voice.
At the sound of the car approaching, Dakota looks behind her, and I see her ravaged eyes, bloodshot and sunken. My heart twists in my chest, and before Isla can stop the car, I’m unbuckling my seat belt.
“Do you mind staying in the car so I can talk to her first?”
“Not at all,” Isla answers, understanding in her eyes.
“Thank you.”
Once the car is parked, I hop out and head to Dakota, who turns away again. I have no clue if I’m looking at a loch or the ocean at this point, but whatever it is, it’s pretty.
Not saying a word, I take a seat next to her and mimic her position, bringing my legs into my chest.
“Find My Phone?” she asks, her voice brittle.
“Yeah. I’m glad you were psychotic about losing me when we decided to move here and forced me to download it, just in case.”
“Glad it came in handy.”
She falls silent, and I allow the moment of quiet to hang between us. Sometimes you just need a friend beside you to ease the anguish in your chest before you can talk about it.
After a few draining minutes, I hear her sniffle. I look to the side and catch her wiping her eyes. Her tears feel like a punch in the gut. Dakota’s pretty emotionally tough, almost stoic sometimes, and I’ve only seen her cry a handful of times. Today being one of them.
I wrap my arm around her as the wind picks up, making it chillier than I care for, and I pull her closer. She automatically rests her head on my shoulder and quietly says, “I’m sorry, Bonnie.”
“Why are you sorry?” I ask, confused. “I’m the one who screwed up.”
She shakes her head. “No, I screwed up. I made you believe you were the lost one, that you needed to find yourself, when in reality it’s me who’s lost.” Her voice grows tight. “I have no idea who I am. I lost myself with Isabella, and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered, even though I’ve been pretending that I have.”
“Hey.” I squeeze her tight. “Relationships don’t define us, Dakota; they only help mold us into the people we’re supposed to become.”
“And what have I become?” She wipes at her nose. “I’m not proud of what I said to you, how I’ve acted, how I neglected to show up for you today because I was too embarrassed, too ashamed. I’m not proud of who I am when I’m with Isla, and not because there’s anything wrong with her. She’s perfect, actually, but she just reminds me how fucked up in the head I am. I second-guess everything. I’m terrified that after every conversation with her, she’s going to judge me, scold me, tell me that’s not how to be a lesbian, how to carry myself. She’s so damn amazing, and I honestly don’t think I’m healthy enough to have that kind of relationship.”
“A loving one?” I ask. “Because I think that’s exactly what you need. Someone to nurture you, remind you of just how special you are and everything you have to offer this world.”
“I have nothing to offer.”
“That’s not true, and I’ll tell you why—because the girl who’s sitting in the car right now was worried sick about you. There is so much love in her eyes, Dakota. The entire drive here, she was telling me how much she cares about you, how happy you make her, how she wishes she hadn’t given you space because she doesn’t want to lose you.” I squeeze her tight. “You offer so much value, and you can’t even see it.”
She lifts her head and wipes her eyes. “She said that to you?”
I nod, wiping at Dakota’s eyes as well. “You might feel broken, but she doesn’t see you that way, and neither do I. I see you as a strong woman, a strong gay woman who knows herself but is just wary of trusting her intuition.” I press my hand to her heart. “This is your path, your guide. Follow it, Dakota, and don’t let your mind tell you otherwise. You have value—you are worth everything to me, to Isla, and yes, it will take time to shake the damage Isabella has done to you, but guess what—she didn’t break you, girl . . . she just bent you. It’s time to straighten you out . . . well, not like praying you back to straight, but you know, keep the gay, but just straighten—”
“I know what you mean.” She laughs and sighs. “Jesus, Bonnie, I can’t believe I said those things to you. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I’m sorry I told your story to Isla. I never should have done that. I understand how important it is, and I think I was just trying to cling to anything that would keep you close. I felt you drifting away, and it scared me. I didn’t want to lose you.”
“I felt you drifting away too,” she admits. “First with the coffee shop, then with Rowan. I felt like they were all more important than me, but instead of talking to you about it, I bottled it up and chose some painful words to shout at you—words I didn’t mean.”
“There was some truth to them, even though they hurt. There’s truth.”
“I’m proud of you, though.” She faces me, sitting cross-legged. “I’m so proud of you, Bonnie, and I can’t believe I missed the opening. It was selfish and wrong and—”
“It’s okay.” And I mean that. It’s really okay. During the drive, I wasn’t thinking about the coffee shop. I was thinking that I might lose my friend, my rock, the one person who’s been through all the ups and downs of my life. I can’t lose her. “I really, truly mean it. It’s okay, Dakota.”
She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. “You’re all kinds of special, Bonnie. You know that? You don’t need to figure out what to do in life, because you’re damn near perfect as you are.”
I shakily smile against her shoulder. “If only that was enough.”
She pulls away and lifts my chin. “It should be. What did you say to me? ‘Relationships don’t define you; they only mold you’? Same goes for you. A job, a relationship, where you live—they don’t define you. It’s how you live your life, treat others, and take advantage of every moment presented to you.” She grips my cheek. “Like right now, after everything I said, you’re still here, showing up, letting me know that no matter what we say, nothing can tear us apart.”
“Never. You’re my person,” I say softly as tears build in my eyes.
“And you’re mine.” She pulls me into another hug, and this time, I hold on a little tighter, letting the familiar embrace soothe my troubled soul.
After a few good minutes of holding one another, I help her up from the ground and call Isla out of the car. She tentatively walks over, but when I push Dakota toward her, they quickly embrace. I give them some space, though I can’t help but listen in as I face away from them, watching the waves lap against the dark earth.
“I was so worried,” Isla says. “I didn’t want to give you space but felt like you needed it.”
Dakota sighs quietly. “I’m not . . . all the way mentally healthy. Isabella did a number on my confidence. I want to be strong for you, Isla, but I just don’t know how to be, and I don’t want you to resent me for it.”
“You don’t need to be strong for me—you just need to be honest.” I sway a little, turning slightly, because good God do I need to see what’s happening. From the corner of my eye, I catch Isla cupping Dakota’s cheeks. “I’m falling for you, Dakota, so hard, and I know it’s going to be a journey battling your demons, but I don’t want you to do it alone. Let me battle them with you.”
Jesus, if Dakota doesn’t snag Isla, I very well might. Talk about total jackpot.
“I don’t want to put you through that,” Dakota answers stubbornly. I’m seconds away from slapping some sense into her when strong Isla swoops in again.
“That’s what relationships are for, though—to lean on each other and guide one another through the good . . . and the bad. There’s so much more to you than what happened with Isabella. That’s a small bump in the road that I know we can conquer together, but you have to trust me to help get you over it.”
“I do trust you. You’ve showed me what kindness is in a partner. You’ve provided me with encouragement and strength; even through my insecurities, I can see how valuable you are. How important, the kind of graceful and positive impact you’ve had on my life. I’m just . . . I’m nervous. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re never a burden to me.” Isla pulls her closer. “You’re a blessing.”
Yup, here come the waterworks. There’s no way I can play incognito at this point. I fully turn around and stare just as Isla closes the distance between them and brings her mouth to Dakota’s. Just look at them. Happiness wraps around them and shines brightly through every shared glance and touch. It’s everything I could ever ask for when it comes to my best friend: happiness.
But as I watch them kiss, hold each other tightly, press their foreheads together while talking softly about how much they care for each other, one thought invades my mind: Can I ever get there with Rowan?
After what Leith told me, Rowan’s absence, his anger as he roared at me to leave, my guess is probably no.
And that makes me incredibly sad.
“You know, I just feel weird being here,” I say to Dakota and Isla, who are holding hands across from me at Fergie’s, kissing each other every two seconds. After the grand makeup, I drove the MINI Cooper back to Corsekelly so Isla and Dakota could drive together. I didn’t mind—until my head started spinning with thoughts about Rowan.
Before we drove back, I took out my phone and sent him a few texts, hoping I would hear from him, since today was supposed to be a big day, but when we parked the cars and I checked my phone, there was nothing.
It’s put me in a weird mood, and sitting across from two freshly reconciled lovebirds is making me even sadder than before.
“I think I’m going to go.”
“What? No, stay,” Dakota says. “I don’t want you to feel weird around us.”
“I don’t feel weird around you two. I just . . . I’m feeling a little sad over the whole Rowan thing, and I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer. Plus, you two need some time together.”
“I want to spend time with you too,” Dakota says, and I can see the indecision in her eyes, trying to balance a friendship and a relationship at the same time.
Smiling at her, I reach across the table and take her hand. “There will be plenty of time to spend with me. Just promise I get a night sometime this week, okay?”
“I promise.” She smiles back.
I turn to Isla. “Thank you for taking care of my best friend. I appreciate you so much.”
“That means a lot to me.”
We exchange quick hugs before I leave the pub and head back to the cottage. I know there’s cake stashed in the kitchen, and I have a heavy inkling that I’m about to eat it all. The town is quiet, most of the noise and activity coming from the pub, with a few stragglers here and there. I take a deep breath, savoring the fresh breeze off the loch. I never thought I’d fall in love with a town, but here I am, head over heels for Corsekelly, and yet . . . it doesn’t feel right.
Nothing has felt right since my fight with Rowan. It’s as if that fight dug an empty hole inside me and I’m trying to fill it with whatever I can, but it’s not working. Nothing is working.
I’m truly . . . sad. And I don’t think it’s because he didn’t show up today. I don’t think it’s because he’s not calling.
I think it’s because I accomplished something. I proved my worth, I created a vibe, I brought something to life, and the one person I wanted to share this with won’t return my phone calls and my texts, and it’s all my fault.
I think it’s because for the first time in my life, I fell in love, and the man I’ve fallen in love with doesn’t love me back.
And that’s more painful than anything.
I bite my bottom lip as I trudge through town, the magic of the stone-paved road losing a bit of its luster. Everything seems to have dulled around me, and I know it’s because I love Rowan. I love him so much, and if he doesn’t love me back, then how on earth am I supposed to stay here, in the smallest town I’ve ever visited, and act like everything is normal?
Surprisingly, I didn’t fail when it came to my job this time—I thrived.
But failure still rests heavy on my heart.
The snap of a twig pulls my attention from the ground to a dark figure passing by.
Wait.
Is that . . .
Is that Rowan?
He’s home? And he didn’t let me know?
I quickly hop around the corner of the Mill Market and poke my head around, eyes trained on him as my heart tumbles into a pit of despair. I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell me he’s here. Then again, it’s really all my fault. I pushed him and pushed him and drove him away.
As he steps inside the pub, I consider going back to the cottage but realize I’ll just cry to myself in my bed, so I opt for the coffee shop. As I approach, I have to blink a few more times. Finella is standing at the open doorway. She looks stunned, with her hands to her heart and mouth agape. Another twig snaps, this time under my foot, and she jumps, her eyes connecting with mine.
Oh God.
She’s home early.
I wasn’t prepared for her return.
Does she hate what we’ve done?
I haven’t had a chance to prepare her.
I clear my throat. “Finella, you’re back from vacation. I thought you’d be gone for six months.”
“That was the plan, but Stuart wanted to come back.”
“Oh.” I twist my hands together.
She turns toward the coffee shop and then looks back at me. I gulp, wondering if she likes the changes or if she wishes she’d never brought Dakota and me into the mix.
“Shona told me you’ve been working hard, Bonnie, but I never expected to come back to this.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “This is more than working hard—this is a complete transformation.”
“Do you . . . do you like it?” I ask, my heart hammering for so many reasons at this point.
“I love it.”
Relief washes over me as she steps closer and pulls me into a hug.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
It’s my undoing. I wrap my arms around her and sob onto her shoulder.
Rowan.
Home.
His complete and total silence.
Feeling like I no longer belong.
Experiencing success, but having it overshadowed by my own faults.
It all crashes together. She holds me tightly, and her embrace feels like a long-lost hug from my mom, something I haven’t received in too many years.
“Shh,” she says, stroking my hair. “’Tis okay, lass.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to gain control of my emotions but failing miserably. Pulling away, I wipe my face and take a deep breath. “Okay, sorry about that.”
Head tilted, she studies me. “About Rowan—”
I hold up my hand. “Please, Finella, I really don’t want to talk about it. How about I just show you around the coffee shop, get you familiar with everything? We’ve made quite a few changes.”
“All right, dear,” she says, resigned.
For the next half hour, I show Finella around the coffee shop, listening to her appreciation of the hairy coo pictures. She fawns over the new tables and enjoys every bite of the buttery I serve her. She’s grateful for everything I show her, even the small things, like the power-washed floors. And even though her excitement should be contagious, it’s not. All I feel is a sense of finality.
My job here is done.
Dakota is happy.
Finella is thrilled.
There’s nothing really keeping me here, especially if Rowan has moved on as well. There’s only one thing left for me to do, and that’s . . . call my parents.
It’s time to go home.