Wyatt swung the car into the parking lot of the restaurant and opened his door with a smile. He walked around to Macy’s door and opened it, leaning down to say, “This place has got a great deck outside that overlooks the water. Thought we could talk. How does that sound?” From inside the restaurant, she could hear Jimmy Buffett singing about grapefruit and juicy fruit.
“Very nice,” she said. The air had cooled off now that the sun had set, and she hoped they could find a quiet corner. She wanted to tell him about quitting her job. Maybe he’d tell her she should stay at Sunset. Maybe they would stare at the water as they planned a beautiful future together. It was the stuff of fairy tales, after all. And even if he wasn’t the artist, the fairy tale didn’t have to end.
He caught her looking at him. “Can I say you look very beautiful tonight?”
She smiled a shy smile, thinking of the dress she was wearing. She’d saved it for a special occasion, a white eyelet dress that flounced at the knee and scooped at the neck, fun and feminine and flirty. She’d found it on sale this spring and had splurged, deeming it her “beach dress” and imagining wearing it with the artist the first time he took her out. She would be tan, and the sun would’ve streaked her hair, and she would feel young and alive and—she had promised herself this—if someone told her she was beautiful, she would just thank them and not dismiss the compliment.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“I’d say the beach life agrees with you,” he remarked, as he steered her through the busy dining room and to the deck in the back. They took seats by the water, and he disappeared to get them drinks. When he came back, he placed her drink in front of her with a flourish and took the seat across from her.
“It’s such a gorgeous night,” she said.
“Just perfect,” he agreed.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the easy laughter and teasing that had existed between them earlier gone with the setting sun. “Sooo …” He looked at her and took a sip of his drink.
She gave him a smile without showing any teeth. “Sooo,” she responded.
“We seem to have run out of things to say,” he said.
“And so early in the relationship!” she teased. “I hear of this happening to couples, but it’s usually not for years!”
He grinned. “I guess I just don’t know what to say. I really like spending time with you. I’m glad you came over to tell me to be quiet that first day.”
“I wonder if we would’ve met otherwise.”
He pressed his lips into a line and appeared to be thinking. “I’m fairly certain I would’ve seen you. And my dad would’ve gone on and on about your mom and how I needed to meet you. I mean, when fate’s at work …”
She leaned in to tell him about quitting her job but a voice interrupted her.
“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”
Wyatt’s face lit up as he stood to welcome two women over to the table. “Paula! Stacey! Great to see you!”
Macy closed her eyes in disbelief but recovered quickly as one of them — Paula? — extended her hand.
“I’m Stacey Gore, just like the former vice president, only we’re not related. And this is my cousin Paula Kay Monroe. We used to work with Wyatt.” She pushed Wyatt’s shoulder in a way that told Macy they’d done more than work together. The color rose in Wyatt’s cheeks as he and Macy looked at each other. There was only one extra seat at their table but that didn’t discourage the cousins. “Paula, go get another chair from over there,” Stacey ordered.
Paula obediently went to fetch it, her curls bobbing as she trotted off. She dragged the chair across the deck, making a horrible scraping noise that made other patrons wince.
Stacey sat down closest to Wyatt. “I see you’re still hanging out here, you old dog.” She pushed on his shoulder again. She leaned over to Macy like they were girlfriends from years back. “He loves to bring the ladies here. Don’t cha, Wyatt?”
Wyatt shifted in his chair. “I don’t come here that often,” he said, looking at Macy.
Stacey wasn’t to be deterred. “Hey, Joe!” she hollered at the bartender. “When’s the last time you saw this one?” She pointed demonstratively at Wyatt, who was now more than a little red in the face.
Joe played along. “Uhhh … let’s see. Could it’ve been Saturday night? Oh no, wait. He had lunch here yesterday too!”
Stacey and Paula laughed hard, leaning against each other. Paula smiled at Macy. “Old dog don’t change his tricks,” she said.
Macy forced herself to smile and nod when she really just wanted to get away from these two.
Wyatt caught her eye. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed.
She pressed her lips into a line that was not a smile and forced herself to look him in the eye for a few beats before looking away, in the direction of the water and a crane flying away, taking her fairy tale with it. She knew Wyatt could tell she was upset, but he remained the gentleman in front of Paula and Stacey, making polite small talk with the two women. The minutes ticked by as they talked about different men from Wyatt’s crew, caught up on the latest on Buzz (it seemed everyone knew and loved Buzz), and discussed the sculpture that was being unveiled just down the street on Ocean Isle Beach the next day.
“Wyatt built the scaffold for the presentation,” Stacey informed Macy. “Out of the goodness of his heart. He’s so talented.” She poked him.
Wyatt sloughed off her compliment and mouthed, “Do you want to go?”
Paula and Stacey started talking about something else, leaning into each other and laughing.
Macy nodded at Wyatt, who stood abruptly, silencing both of the women. Macy followed suit. “Well, I better get Macy home. She’s got a daughter who gets up pretty early.”
Paula spoke up. “Hey! Macy and Stacey! That rhymes!” The two of them cracked up all over again and hardly noticed as Macy and Wyatt walked away.
When they were safely in the car, Wyatt looked over at her. “I’m so sorry about that. But their family owns one of my biggest suppliers. I have to be nice to them.”
Macy was feeling snippy. She couldn’t help it. What had started off as such a great evening with so much potential had turned as sour as the lemon drop drinks Paula and Stacey ordered. “Sounds like you’ve been a lot more than nice to that one girl,” she said. She hated the way she was acting, but that didn’t stop her. Stacey with her short skirt and low-cut top and brassy fake-blonde hair: the girl was a walking cliché.
Wyatt turned to her. “Is someone jealous?” He grinned.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not jealous, just … disappointed. I really wanted our date to go well.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. They didn’t pick up on any of my cues.” Wyatt almost sounded like he was whining.
“Then maybe you should’ve been a little more direct.” She hated how she sounded. She played with the handle of the passenger door, pulling it and letting it go without actually opening the door.
He sat in silence for a few minutes, and she rehearsed some way of taking back what she had said, of erasing the last few hours and beginning again. But if anyone knew how hard starting over was, she did. So she sat quietly and waited, hoping he’d save the day by saying just the right thing. Instead he turned the car on and backed out of the parking space. He didn’t ask where she wanted to go, just turned toward Sunset, the place Macy had come to think of as home during the short time they’d spent there. The place that wouldn’t be home much longer.