“See ya.” She waves quickly and hurries toward the checkout counter. With a quick word to Shona, she abandons her cart and strides out of the store.
Fuck.
I drag my hand over my face.
What the hell have I done?
And then it hits me.
I quickly pull my phone from my pocket and glance at the date.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pulling at my hair until pain radiates down my skull. “Fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut.
I missed it.
I missed her fucking opening day.
Not only have I fucked up what we had by displacing my anger, but I also broke a promise, one that meant the world to her.
“Everything okay over here?” Shona asks, appearing by my side. “Swearing in the produce is cause for concern.”
“Sorry.” I stick my phone back in my pocket. “Just realized I missed something.”
“Aye, the reopening of the Hairy Coo Coffee Company.”
“How did you know?”
“Just an inkling.” She rocks back on her heels. “I was there, but not until the afternoon. None of us were able to show up till then.”
“Why?”
“Tour bus got stuck, so we all went to help them out. No one was at the opening. Heard from Isla that Bonnie was devastated.” My gut churns. “Don’t blame the girl for going back home—she’s had a rough go at it, what with getting in a fight with Dakota, losing you, the coffee shop . . . and now that your maw is back—”
“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “What do you mean, going home? To the cottage?”
“No,” Shona says, brow furrowed. “Going back to the States.” To the fucking States? “She leaves Tuesday. It’s nice she was able to patch things up with Dakota before she leaves. I guess Dakota wanted to go with her, but Bonnie told her to stay with Isla and help your maw at the shop. Finella tried to convince her to stay this morning, but I think she’s too heartbroken.” Shona looks me up and down. “Thanks to you.”
Fuck.
She’s going back home?
I . . . I can’t . . . fuck, she can’t leave.
“Maw talked to her this morning?” I ask, my throat growing tight.
Shona nods. “Bonnie was up early baking, getting ready for the day, teaching Dakota everything she knows. Not sure how long she’ll last. Dakota doesn’t seem like the baking type, but she’s giving it her best effort.” She shakes her head. “Such a shame you two didn’t work out. Bonnie was perfect for you. Perfect for the town.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to comprehend everything Shona is telling me.
“Anyhoo . . . need help with anything?” Shona asks, her gaze steely as she stares me down.
I shake my head.
“Well, if you do, you know where to find me.”
Whistling, she casually walks back to her register as my mind whirls. I glance over at her, and a smile stretches across her weathered face. How convenient, I realize, that Maw sent me to the Mill Market just now.
Maw has tried to talk to me about Bonnie, but I’ve brushed her off every time, unable to even think about the pain I caused her. Every text, every phone call—I ignored them all because I didn’t know what to say to her.
I still don’t.
I don’t even know if there is anything to say at this point.
She’s going home.
She clearly is done with me, and I don’t blame her. I haven’t given her anything to hold on to.
“I think it’s going to rain,” I say as I help Da out of my pickup and into his wheelchair.
“Let it rain.” He looks up at me. “Just means Callum is here with us, right?”
I smile softly. “I guess so.” Moving behind him to push him to my cottage, I ask, “Why did you want to come here?”
He holds his hand up to stop me. “I don’t want to go to your house. I want to go in there.” He points at my pottery shed.
“Da—”
“Don’t argue with me. Bring me to your shed.”
With a heavy sigh, I wheel him to my shed, open the double doors wide, and push him inside. I watch, a bit nervous, as he slowly takes everything in, hands folded on his lap. His eyes travel to the shelves, first landing on my completed work, which is ready for a home but has nowhere to go. Then they travel to the back, where I dry out my projects. Those shelves are empty. And then he takes in my workstation. Messy, with clay splatter everywhere, it’s a place where someone creates. The only question is, Does Da see it that way?
I watch him with bated breath. I try to gauge his reaction, try to understand what’s passing through his head. When his eyes return to my completed shelf, the corners of his mouth twitch upward toward the sky.