Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Thanks for the tip,” Cassie says, flashing a grateful smile.
Danny steps in, clearly bored with all the chitchat. “All right, ladies. Nice running into you, but we’ve got some alcohol to consume, fellas.”
We say goodbye and part ways, moving in opposite directions. From behind me I hear Cassie tell Joy she needs to use the restroom before they hit Big Molly’s. “I’ll wait out here” is Joy’s faint response, and the guys and I are almost a block away when I hear high heels on the pavement.
“Tate,” a voice hisses. “Wait.”
I look over my shoulder to find Joy barreling our way, heels clicking and slinky red dress swirling around her toned thighs.
“Interesting,” Cooper murmurs, clearly amused.
“One second,” I tell the boys. I break off from the group and meet Joy about ten feet away.
She’s breathless from running in heels. “I gotta be quick,” she blurts out. “Before Cass comes out.”
Shit. Is she hitting on me? I hope not, because that feels kind of shady, doing it behind Cassie’s back like that.
But she surprises me by asking, “What do you think of Cassie?”
I furrow my brow. “In what way?”
“In all ways. Think she’s cute?”
“Smoking hot,” I correct, a grin springing up.
Joy brightens. “Oh. Perfect. That was easy. And you’re okay with all the nervous babbling?”
“In what way?” I echo. “What do you mean by okay with it? What’s happening right now?” I feel stupid. Sometimes it feels like women are speaking an entirely different language from me. My mom does it all the time, carrying on these conversations she must have started in her head, because I have no clue what she’s saying, and Dad and I will constantly lock gazes over her head, like, what the fuck?
“Listen,” Joy says in a serious tone. “Cass and I are fling shopping.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Well, she’s fling shopping. I may or may not be back together with my selfish ass of an ex Isaiah, but that’s a whole other drama.” She waves a manicured hand. “Anyway, Cassie’s looking for a summer fling, and I think you’d be the perfect candidate.”
I’m having trouble containing my amusement, biting my lip to keep from laughing. “Is that so?”
“Oh, it’s so. But she’s never going to ask you out, so I’ve taken it upon myself to intervene. Especially after I saw you two interact. It seemed like, I don’t know, there was a little banter happening? From where I was standing, it looked like you might be interested in … dot dot dot …”
“I might,” I say slowly. “I mean, I’m always up for … dot dot dot …”
She beams at me. “Excellent. Then I’m giving you her number.”
I offer a smug look. “Already have it.”
Her jaw drops. “Seriously? That sneaky little …” She shakes her head. “Well, okay then. That was supposed to be my role in this whole transaction. You know, putting the idea out there in the universe, that if you were to be into her, she might be into you too. I’m the sexual communications facilitator.”
“Of course. Because that’s a real job.” I tip my head. “Are we at the part where you hand me the note that says Do you like Cassie? and I have to check the yes or no box?”
“Oh, honey, we’re in the era of dick pics and u up? texts,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “You can figure it out from here.”
CHAPTER 6
CASSIE
On Thursday morning, Grandma and I finally get that tour of the Beacon Hotel, an experience that is paradoxically like stepping into a time capsule while also taking a time machine into the future. Mackenzie Cabot chose an aesthetic that somehow managed to preserve the original look of the Beacon while modernizing it. It’s amazing to see. She knocked down walls I never would’ve thought of knocking down, brightening the main building with natural light and adding a dozen more ocean-view rooms.
Even with all the changes, I’m still overcome with nostalgia. Everything I see triggers a new memory. In the lobby, as we ascend the grand staircase, I run my fingertips along the intricately carved banister and remember hearing Grandpa Wally boast, See this banister, kiddo? I sanded it all by myself. And your grandma, she helped me paint it.
When Mackenzie shows us how she managed to replicate many of the old brass fixtures in the bathrooms, Grandpa Wally’s excited voice is in my head, explaining, These nifty towel hooks? They were specifically designed for passenger ships. Ocean liners. Grandma saw them in a nautical magazine and said, Wallace, we need these for the Beacon!
His memory was so sharp, every detail etched into his brain. That’s probably what made it all the more heartbreaking when he started to forget everything in his later years. It was devastating to watch. He forgot our names first, the grandchildren. Then his own kids—my mom, her sister and brothers. Even Uncle Will, who’d been Grandpa’s firstborn and favorite, was eventually lost to the jumbled sea that had become Grandpa’s brain. And then, finally, he no longer recognized Grandma when she came to visit, and that’s when we knew it was over. Mentally, he was gone. Physically, it took another year for his body to catch up. Sometimes I think the dementia was worse than his actual death.