"I guess. Yeah."
I look at my phone. Still no new messages. "You know," I say, "Hunter texted me today."
Meg looks shocked. "He did?"
"He said we need to talk."
The expression on Meg's face lifts. "Oh my god, that's great!"
"I don't know that it really is."
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Because how many times am I going to let him do the same thing to me? Fool me once, fool me twice, you know?"
"Well, what did you say?"
"I told him there's nothing to talk about."
"Well, doll, I want what you want. I think you should hear him out. Give him one more chance. He's coming back, right?"
Just then, my phone vibrates. Meg snatches it off the table before I can react.
"He says he'll be in town in an hour. And he really wants to talk."
"Oh."
Meg gets ready to type a response for me. "What should I tell him?"
Wow, this really does feel like college again. My best friend texting guys for me. Except this time, there's a whole lot more on the line than a date or a hookup.
"Ugh." My gut tells me the best thing I can do for myself is to not respond at all. But now that I've had another taste of Hunter, I can't stop thinking about what it'd be like to have a happily-ever-after with him. Of course I have no idea what he's actually thinking right now.
I think for a while. Meg puts the phone down and we wordlessly eat our ice cream.
"Okay," I say. "Tell him I'll hear whatever he has to say. But he can't stay at my apartment anymore."
"Okay," says Meg. She taps out a response and hands my phone back to me.
"Hey," I say, "would you want to go for a walk? I need to clear my head."
The night bathes us in its warmth. I haven't been out and about at night in months. I forgot how nice it is to walk around without freezing my behind off. The summer months are just one more thing I need to take better advantage of in the future. I'm starting to realize just how limited my time is on this earth, and that I'm going to have to go out and fight for what I want if I'm going to become the person I want to be.
Hunter is an enigma. He makes me feel more beautiful than any other man ever has. And I feel this attraction to him that's not only physical, but also emotional, and cerebral. I love simply being around him, but I don't understand why he's always leaving. If he could just be there for me the way a man is supposed to be, it would be a perfect relationship. Even in spite of our past.
Meg and I walk quietly side by side, around the base of the ridge. It's really a perfect night out.
If business is all Hunter wants to talk about, then so be it. But if he wants to talk about more… well, I guess I'll hear it. But I'm not going to be stupid this time. He has to have a damn good reason for why things will be different this time. If he doesn't, then I'm not letting him back in. Not again.
By the time Meg and I circle around the ridge and head back into town, the stars are shining at full strength above. The moon is just a tiny sliver, but in combination with the stars there's enough light out here to navigate anything. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can accept whatever outcome happens.
My phone buzzes again and I pull it out. I'm back, the text message says.
20
Hunter
The bike rumbles to a stop at the base of Maple Ridge. I kill the ignition and strap my helmet around the handlebars. Tess texted me back half an hour ago and asked to meet up on top, where we shared our last night together eight years ago.
The more I think about things, the more I think I'm fucking up. Maybe I do love her. I've never loved a woman before. Or at least I've never said the words to one. I don't know if I know what true love really is. All I know is that I sure as hell wouldn't have turned my bike around for any other woman on this planet. And that has to mean something, right?
The night air blows cool and crisp as I hike up the side of the ridge. The footpaths are worn and rutted, following the same contours as when I was a kid, but rougher, more ragged around the edges. That's what this whole town is like. Slowly fraying around the edges, slowly decaying. That's why the rainbow bagel shop is so important to the future of the town. Not because I expect it to singlehandedly save the town, but because it represents a new direction for everything, the first glimmer of hope since everything started slowly trickling out to Springville. It's proof that the town has the potential for a better future.
When I reach the top of the ridge, I see her. She's wearing a lacy white shirt and a skirt that blows in the quiet night wind. The moonlight illuminates her, and where her collar unfolds I see the luscious, curvy folds of skin where her cleavage tucks into her shirt. But as fucking gorgeous as she looks, her face is what truly captivates me.
In that moment, I realize I'm a fucking idiot. There's nowhere fucking else for me except by her side.
I approach her. Her bangs flutter against her forehead in the wind, and I nearly reach out to brush them out of her face before I manage to restrain myself. The expression on her face tells me that I've got some explaining to do.
"So," she says.
"So."
"Tell me what you want to talk about."
"First things first. Sit down." I sit down on one of the flat-cut tree stumps and make room for Tess next to me, but she takes a seat on a different one. She folds her arms. I ignore it.
"First thing," I say, "is fuck that old man Wilkinson. We're gonna rip down the notice on the restaurant and resume business."
Tess looks skeptical. "That's illegal."
"Does it look like I give a fuck about a stupid law?"
"Hunter," says Tess, her voice exasperated. "I thought you wanted to have a real conversation."
"This is a real conversation."
"You don't seem to understand. This isn't the wild west. There are lawyers, and government officials, Hunter. There are fines."
I shrug. "Let them come. They can bring all their ammo. But when the public finds out about what the mayor is doing to his citizens, he'll get thrown out of office."
"And operating the business without permission is supposed to help that?"
"It'll be a peaceful protest."
"And then what?"
"And then you have your restaurant back."
"What about you?"
I pause. I don't want to say anything I don't mean.
"Are you still going to leave me and go to Alaska?" She's not pulling any punches.
"What do you want, Tess?"
She sighs and stands up. She turns away from me, and stares off over the ridge, at the sleepy little town. "What I don't want is to force you to do anything. I want it to be your decision."
At least a full minute of silence passes. Then I speak. "I want to stay here with you."
She looks back at me, an expression of incredulity on her face. "Are you saying that you love me?"
I pause again and I grit my teeth. This feels like a much bigger deal than the fake marriage did. I've never said those three words to any woman on the planet, not even my crappy mom when I was a kid. "I want to be completely honest with you," I say. "I'm not going to say something that I can't be 100% sure about. I think so. But I'm not ready to say it yet."
She looks damn hurt, and turns away again. "Hey," I say. I tug on her sleeve. "Look at me."
She does, and she looks more damn beautiful than I've ever seen her.
I cup her cheeks in my hands and crush my lips against hers. Everything else in the world disappears while our lips touch. She tastes like ice cream, and I breathe her in. My body craves everything she has to offer.
When our lips part, she looks dazed, and I damn well bet that I do too. "Only honesty from now on," I say.
She pauses, and then nods. "Don't hurt me again," she says. "I don't think my heart can take it."
"I won't. I promise." I'm not ready to say the three words yet, but I think I will be. Soon.
"Let's go,"
I say. "Let's go open up that café, and tell all our friends near and far to come get some goddamn illegal rainbow bagels."
21
Tess
The line is longer than I've ever seen it before. It wraps all the way around the block, and halfway down Main Street. The dumpster out back overflows with brown paper we ripped off the storefront. The boilers hum, online once again. The scent of fresh bagels wafts through the store, and the refrigerator brims with gallons and gallons of M&M swirl cream cheese.
Today is a message that Maple Ridge is going to soar into the future, and no one is going to stop it.
"I just love these swirls," crows Mrs. Abraham, Hunter's old math teacher. She hands me a $10, enough to cover a dozen bagels and a half-pint of rainbow cream cheese. I punch her purchase into the register, which dings and shoots the cash drawer out like a rocket. "I'm so glad you're open again. I'll be back tomorrow. Good luck, honey. And your man is looking fine as hell."
I blush at the shameless old lady and look over my shoulder at Hunter. He's manning the espresso machine, frothing a cup of hot milk. We haven't talked about us since the night he came back, but for the first time in weeks I feel hopeful again. About the café, about him, about me.
"Kick that old man's ass," shouts someone deep in the line. It seems like each customer I serve has something nice to say about the shop. They're telling me it's breathing new life into the town. And for the first time I can remember, people are talking about Maple Ridge like it's some cool, quirky little town like Portland instead of a backwater village with nothing to offer.
But about an hour and a half into the morning, something unexpected happens. I'm boxing up a dozen bagels for Tim Selleck, the town's barber, when the sheriff of Maple Ridge squeezes through the crowd. Along with three deputies. He pushes his way past the line, straight to the counter where I stand behind the register.
"Tess Cassidy?"
"Yes?" I say. I instantly break into a cold sweat.
"Your restaurant is operating in violation of the Maple Ridge city health code. Please shut down your equipment immediately and take a seat in the kitchen when you are finished. Wait for us."
I swallow hard. "Hunter," I call out. He's in the back, helping Jason load a new batch of dough into the extruder machine. He comes around the corner, and a deadly expression appears on his face.
"What the hell is this?"
"Sir, are you Mr. Thorne?"
"You're goddamn right."
"Your store is illegally serving food products. Shut down the equipment immediately and wait with Ms. Cassidy in the kitchen while we clear out the patrons from the dining area."
Hunter points a spatula at the sheriff's chest, like a gun. "Fuck you. We're not in violation of anything."
"Mayor's orders, sir."
"Fuck right off with that. The mayor is a corrupt piece of—"
Two of the deputies jump over the counter and grab Hunter, forcing his arms behind his back. I scream, and so do several ladies at the front of the line. There must be 30 or 40 people crammed into the line right now, and a commotion breaks out, verging on a riot. I step back from the brawling deputies, and barely dodge a swinging arm. Hunter breaks free of the deputies and puts one in a headlock, taking him to the ground.
"Don't touch me, motherfucker," growls Hunter. The other deputy grabs at his head, but Hunter shrugs him off, then moves to sit on top of the head-locked deputy, preventing him from moving.
The sheriff himself leaps over the counter, and I stand back in horror as he and the second deputy wrestle Hunter off the first man, then pin him down to the ground belly-first.
They slap handcuffs on Hunter and haul him to his feet. Before I can get a word in edgewise, they flip up the segmented counter and shove him past the crowd, out the front door.
The crowd is in a full uproar now, shouting and yelling and surging out of the door to where the sheriff's cruisers sit parked outside. I follow them out into the warm, humid morning after telling Jason to power off all the equipment and comply with the sheriff's orders.
I willingly surrender myself to a deputy standing outside, and he clicks the handcuffs tight behind my back.
My heart pounds, but I knew this was a possibility. The likely outcome, even. Now it'll be up to the justice system to decide what happens to us, the shop, and the mayor.
The deputy escorts me to his car and buckles me into the backseat. I crane my neck, and I see Hunter through the tinted windows, sitting in the backseat of another cop car. I spy Jason at the front door of the café, shooing out the last of the customers and locking the door tight.
Soon, the deputies return to their cars and we start driving slowly down Main Street toward the police station. Crowds of people march on either side of us and in front of us, and it probably takes half an hour just to get a half mile down the street. When we arrive at the station, they take us in for processing.
I pace around the cell. Hunter sits on the single cot, arms crossed on his knees. I have to pee, but the cell toilet is in plain view of everything, and I'm not about to drop my pants and pee in front of the cops. Or in front of Hunter, for that matter. I knew this could happen, but I'm getting more and more anxious as reality sets in.
"We're going to lose the shop for sure now," I say. I grip the cell bars with both hands, and I feel like a caged animal.
"Play it cool," says Hunter, "I've been in worse jams. Many times."
I whirl around. "Oh, so now you're Mr. Cool. You'll be lucky if they don't charge you with assaulting a police officer."
Hunter turns red. "Just wait for the media. They'll be coming."
Sure enough, within the hour, we spot media vans outside, through the tiny, thick jail cell window. I finally manage to calm down, and I sit on the cot next to Hunter. I move in close to him, and put my hand on his knee. He takes my hand in his and squeezes it.
Around the corner in the main part of the police station, a loud argument breaks out. It sounds like the media is trying to get access to us.
"Thanks for being with me," I say. "I would have given up without you."
"Don't thank me yet," says Hunter.
A guy in a suit with slicked-back black hair comes around the corner. I stand up from the cot. He quickly extends a hand between the steel bars and I shake it.
"I'm Joe Rose," he says. "I'm an attorney with Rose & Rose and I'd like to provide my services to you pro-bono. I heard what happened."
"Thank you," I say.
"This isn't the first time the mayor's done this, you know. He loves throwing his weight around to intimidate people. He's in dereliction of his duty to the people. And he's committing crimes by doing this."
"I couldn't agree more," I reply. I'm thrilled to hear the phrase "he's committing crimes." Maybe this is all going to be okay after all.
"I just hate that he's hassling a married couple that went into business together."
I look over my shoulder at Hunter and he smirks.
"Just hang tight, guys. I'm submitting a petition for your release and a stay on the shutdown order. We'll sort this out."
22
Hunter
"This is completely insane."
Tess and I stare at the documents on the lawyer's desk, our jaws hanging wide open.
After Joe Rose successfully petitioned for our release and posted our bail, he hired a private investigator to help build a case against the mayor. To take him down for good, and put an end to his corrupt ways. And what the P.I. found, well, I couldn't have guessed it in a million fucking years.
"Your father had a rivalry with the mayor," says Joe to Tess. "They were both vying for the same woman."
Tess blinks. "My mother?"
"Exactly."
"How did you even find this out?" she says.
"Oh, this is only the beginning of it," says Joe, poking his index finger hard against the stack of manila envelopes on his desk. "The mayor has a lot of enemies. And it doesn't take much to get people talking."
"Yes. Your mother filed several harassment complaints against Mr. Wilkinson before you were born. It seems he wouldn't take no for an answer."
Tess glances my way and I cock an eyebrow. "So you have enough dirt on him?"
"I'm still building the case, but yes, I expect we'll have enough to get him thrown out of office. And to get your business back on track once again."
I nod. "Nice work. I guess lawyers are good for something after all."
Tess jams her elbow into my ribs and I cringe in pain. Guess I should shut the fuck up while this guy is helping us.
"My dad left me a box of stuff before he died," says Tess. "I've never looked through it. Maybe now's the time."
Joe nods. "Anything you can dig up will help."
We sit on Tess's couch, the contents of her dad's box splayed out on the coffee table. Pictures, letters, and other mementos. I can tell it's emotional for Tess, so I manage to keep my big fucking mouth shut and not say anything to make her more upset.
She riffles through a stack of letters. "Here's something." She pulls out one sheet and reads it over. "This is about the rivalry with Wilkinson." She hands it to me and I put it into an envelope with all the other relevant documents for Joe to look at.
"You know, I'm damn glad your dad came out on top."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, otherwise I'd be banging something that came out of Wilkinson's nut sack."
I cringe as soon as I make the joke. It doesn't sound as funny as I thought it would. I never do know when to stop. Tess gives me a grim look and doesn't laugh. I cough. Luckily for me, the awkward moment is broken when something falls out of the stack of papers in Tess's hand, and clings onto the coffee table.
"What's that?" I say.
Tess scoops it up.
"Holy shit. That's a ring."
"Well, I'll be," she says. "That's an engagement ring."
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