Chapter Four

 

Colton

 

 

 

I wake up at six in the morning, which is unusual for me. Normally, I sleep until my alarm clock wakes me up and even then I always push snooze too many times.

Today is different. I stayed up late talking with Elle after she tumbled into my bedroom. It took everything I had not to laugh at her entrance. It was the most honest and adorable thing I’d ever witnessed. I mean, who does that kind of thing? The women I usually hang out with would be mortified to be caught in a situation like that, but she held her head up high.

By the time I went to bed yesterday, I felt… good. At ease. As if Elle’s presence somehow brightened my whole week. And now I’m up at the crack of dawn because she kept popping up in my dreams. Why? Who knows. It’s hard to put my finger on the magic Elle carries with her.

As I still have a few hours before I have to leave for work, I decide to go for a morning run on the beach and stop at the local beach café to pick up coffee and treats for the girls.

Outside, the air is fresh and salty. There are only a few things in life that can compete with the absolute perfection of Summerville Creek’s mornings. Then again, how would I know? I haven’t seen much of the world, but I like to think this place is one of the best on the planet. Sometimes it makes me doubt my moving plans. After our father left Maggie and me hanging, it was all I could think about. Ten years later, I’m not sure about my motives anymore. Still, it’s something I feel I need to do in order to grow and hopefully find some much-needed peace. Everything in Summerville Creek, and especially the house, reminds me of that jerk. I don’t call him that in front of Maggie, because I know it upsets her, but it’s the truth. Why pretend things are different from what they really are?

I run past other early birds on their morning run and spot a small group of people doing yoga on the beach. In the distance, I can see a handful of fishermen arriving at the pier. The town is slowly waking up and I’m glad I’m out and about already. There’s something calming about getting up at the crack of dawn and every time I do, I promise myself I’m going to do it more often.

After twenty minutes, I arrive at Sweets of Paradise. Their wooden deck stretches out over the sand, making for a fantastic view. Paige, the owner, opens her café at five thirty every morning. It’s another great reason to force myself to get out of bed early. The sun rising over her deck is gorgeous.

I push the door open. The sound of wind chimes welcomes me, and the heavenly smell of fresh-baked bread and ground coffee beans wafts toward me.

I give Paige a small wave of the hand. She’s in her mid-forties and charms every patron with her infectious smile.

“Good morning, Colton,” she says as I approach the counter. “What can I get you today?”

I scan the contents of the glass display. “Three chocolate muffins and three pieces of your homemade red velvet cake, please. Oh, and could you add three coffees?”

“Of course. Hungry?” Her smile is uncertain and inquiring, as if she’s wondering what I’m going to do with all this food.

“Maggie’s got a visitor at the house. What better way to start her morning by treating her to your amazing baking skills, right?”

“Oh, a girl,” she says while sliding the muffins into a paper bag. “Anyone… interesting?”

I run a hand through my hair and laugh. Paige is the best, and not only at baking. Somehow, she always manages to pry information from people five seconds after entering her café.

“Elle, my sister’s best friend. She used to live here.”

Paige sucks in her breath. “Wow, Elle’s back?”

“Yeah, she’s going to be living at Maggie’s place.”

“Really? Like, permanently? I thought she whizzed off to Paris with some French guy. Didn’t she claim she was going to make it big out there before she left?”

“Could be. That was before I moved back here from college.”

Paige nods. “Paul. That was the guy’s name. Apparently, he had an apartment with a view of the Eiffel Tower. Elle said he worked as a director and would help her land a big acting job.”

Really? Elle had been in a relationship with some fancy French dude called Paul and she was an actress? I knew she’d been staying in Paris and, according to Maggie, she had her heart broken over there, but she never shared the specifics with me.

“Say hi to her from me, will you?” Paige asks as she hands me the food and three steaming hot coffees. “I do hope she’s okay.”

“Thanks, Paige.”

Once outside, I pop the lid of one of the coffees, and the addictive fragrance of a fresh brew hits my nose. I sip, realizing too late that I should’ve waited at least a few more minutes to let the coffee cool off a bit.

“Mother of macarons,” I shout, moving my tongue around in an unsuccessful attempt to cool it.

“Mommy, that man said a bad word,” I hear someone say.

I pop the lid back on the coffee. A woman and her three kids are looking at me from their spot on the beach.

“Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t realize this coffee would be burning hot.”

I throw the mother an apologetic smile and start down the beach in the direction of my place.

“Hold it right there, you.”

I turn around. “Me?”

She steps closer, her children in tow. “Lavender, Parsley, Basil. Why don’t you explain to this man why we can’t tolerate words like the ones he used?”

Parsley? Who is she talking to? For a brief second, I expect her to whip out a bag of herbs until I realize she’s addressing her children. Ouch. Who wants to be named after something you put in a salad or use to flavor a bowl of soup?

The boy, who I believe is called Basil, puts his hands on his hips. “Bad words do not show respect for other people.”

“And what does this man have to do, Parsley?” the mother inquires.

“Go home and think about what he’s done.”

“And apologize,” Lavender chimes in.

The woman throws me a satisfied look.

“Mother of macarons is not a bad word,” I say.

“It’s a euphemism for one,” she says with a smug smile. “And those are equally as bad.”

I shake my head. What kind of nonsense is this? “I already said I’m sorry.”

“That’s not enough. I won’t let you go without you apologizing some more.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Look, I’m sorry I offended you, but I won’t let a stranger dictate what I can or can’t say.”

“Well, I can dictate which behavior someone exhibits in front of my children is acceptable or not. And you, young man, have crossed the line.”

I let out a sigh and know I should just walk away, but I can’t. When did people become this judgmental? Whatever happened to living your own life, keeping in your own lane, and all that good stuff?

“I understand you’re mad,” I say, causing her to look smug again. “After all, being this uptight must hurt like crazy.”

The woman’s jaw drops, her expression turning feral.

Oops. Maybe I took it a step too far.

“I feel for your mother. To have raised such a rude man.”

I shake my head. “My mother is dead, thank you very much.”

“Mommies can die?” Parsley’s lip starts to shake, and I immediately feel sorry for her. It isn’t her fault her mother thinks it’s okay to speak to strangers like that.

“Not yours,” I say before storming away. “Mine.”

The coffees slush around in their cups. I know I’m spilling liquid left and right, but none of that matters. That lady talking to me like that was one thing, but what she said about my mother… Man, my heart is almost beating out of my chest from anger. I grit my teeth so hard my jaw starts to ache.

I need to get it together before I arrive back at the house, and especially before I get to work. Prince Charming has to remain chipper and friendly. All. Of. The. Time. I can’t pose for photographs with a scowl on my face.

I breathe in slowly and hold my breath for a couple of beats before breathing out again, just like my dear mother taught me.

By the time I take the path to our house, I have my feelings under control. Sort of.

“Hi, Jane,” I say to my neighbor, who’s emerging from her basement with her tin foilhat on her head. Even doomsday preppers and conspiracy theorists need some fresh air every now and then.

“Good morning, Colton.” She looks up at the sky. “Be careful out there, okay? We don’t know when they’ll be arriving.”

“Will do.”

I push the back door open and place the coffees and treats on the kitchen table before calling my sister and Elle, who are in the living room talking.

“Are these for us?” Elle asks as they come into the kitchen, eyeing the coffees.

She’s wearing cute cut-off jean shorts and a loosely fitted salmon pink shirt, making my heart involuntarily skip a beat.

I nod. “Yep. Fresh from Sweets of Paradise.”

“Did you know that Americans drink 146 billion cups of coffee per year?” she asks.

I smile. These random statistics she keeps throwing my way are adorable. “That’s a lot of coffee.”

“Coffee, you say?” Maggie flops down in one of the kitchen chairs. “Oh God, you’re a lifesaver. I desperately need some caffeine after last night.”

She takes a sip, then lets her gaze run over me. “What happened to you? Your face is all red.”

I shrug off her comment. “Went for a run, that’s all.” I then direct my attention to Elle. “Are you ready to go to The Magic Wonderland with me?”

Elle smiles, a dreamy look in her eyes. “You bet. Fingers crossed I get the job, even though we don’t have a clue about what it could entail.”

Maggie holds her hand in the air, fingers crossed. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

“That’s sweet, but I don’t need to hope. I know it’ll be fabulous. I can’t imagine there would be bad jobs at an amusement park.”

Maggie and I exchange a look. I don’t have the heart to tell Elle that there are indeed some awful jobs. Not that I think this one will be exactly that, but there’s nothing fun about scrubbing the toilets near one of the roller coaster rides. Yikes. I just hope for Elle’s sake that the job I heard my colleagues talking about is indeed a good one, like operating the carousel or something else that doesn’t involve yucky stuff.

“Let’s find out, shall we? I’m going to get changed, and then we can hit the road.”

Elle grins. “Perfect. I can’t wait to take a ride with Prince Charming.”