10. Britta

Chapter ten

Britta

M y lunch of organic roasted chicken and fresh vegetables may be the best meal of my life—sorry, Mom—and Archie pays before I even see the bill. I offer to pay him back, but he refuses, and I don't fight him about it. I saw the prices on the menu and chose one of the least expensive dishes, but I was still stressing about the cost throughout the entire meal.

Money will always be a little tight when you own a coffee shop that has three months to make enough money to cover costs for the rest of the year when business slows to a crawl without the vacationers. But things always work out somehow. As long as there are no major expenses. I agreed to this trip because the apartment was already paid for, and the summer had been good, money-wise, thanks to my grief-avoidant work ethic and excellent staff.

But Adam called this morning with some bad news that reignited a bit of the panic I've only just been keeping in check these last couple of days.

Britta's is attached to a bank of buildings that includes an old community center that's being torn down to build an indoor hockey rink. Britta's is the only business that's still occupied, but—like Annie's —it's an institution that locals go out of their way to frequent.

The building is old—at least a hundred years. Between our harsh winters and hot summers, it takes a beating year after year. I thought most of its issues were cosmetic, but one wall was apparently damaged during the demo of the community center.

"It wasn't anything on our end," Adam told me. He knows since he's the one who did the demolition of the other part of the building. "There were problems with the foundation that weren't apparent during the engineering inspections. We've got someone coming out to figure out our options. I just wanted to give you the heads up."

He explained more details, but construction is his thing, not mine. Mine is business, and the only thing I could hear while he talked was how much it's going to cost me to fix Britta's. There's insurance, of course, and we have time to figure things out, but the weight of it is still heavy in my chest.

The entire conversation should have made me sad. Maybe angry. But the only thing I feel is exhaustion.

The past five years of my life have been a losing battle to keep both Mom and Britta's alive. Of course, logically, I knew that would be impossible with Mom. But I fought hard to keep her healthy, happy, and as much herself for as long as possible.

And she ended up suffering, anyway.

I may not have the energy to rebuild Britta's if the damage is extensive . Adam warned me that there's a chance the entire building will have to be torn down.

If that's the case, what's the point of rebuilding Britta's ? It won't be the same place it was when it was Mom's. Even though I made changes when I took over, the building still held the history of Mom and her grandma—the first Britta—before her. Without the building, that history is just memories.

I don't have to be in Paradise to get lost in memories.

Case in point, right now. Stella snaps her fingers in front of my face, and I realize I've been lost right here. I'm not sure for how long, but Stella has her purse slung over her shoulder, and she and Archie are both standing, ready to go.

Dex, though, has a look of concern written in flashing lights on his face.

"You okay?" He asks for the second time today.

Or maybe he's asked more times than that, and I haven't noticed. "Yeah! I'm great! I think I just slipped into a food coma. That lunch was amazing." I tuck my phone into the pocket of Dex's hoodie I'm still wearing.

"Okay…" Dex says, like he doesn't believe me.

Which means I need to try harder to be happy. For the rest of the day, I've got to forget about everything that's happening in Paradise and focus on what's happening right here. Dex needs a stress-free day and support. I can talk to Adam later, when Dex isn't around, and find out what the engineers discovered. Then I'll figure out my next steps with Britta's .

"What's next, Liam?" I ask even more brightly, which wipes the concern from his face.

"You're really sticking to that?" The corner of his mouth pulls up, and for the first time, I notice a dimple in his cheek.

"Calling you by your first name?" How have I never noticed that dimple?

Dex nods.

"Yeeeeeep."

His entire face scrunches as he tries to suppress his grin. It doesn't work. His dimple grows deeper, and I think I can forget everything else if I focus on that adorable attribute of his face.

Stella sidles up next to me, swings her arm over my shoulders, and leans close to Dex. "We're still going to raid the samples at Rip Tide, right?"

"Stella!"

"Like Vikings on their way to an English village," Dex says over my reprimand.

"That's grim. We're not pillaging anything." I turn my scolding on him.

"Speak for yourself." Stella takes a last sip of water, fortifying herself for the journey ahead.

Then we file out of the restaurant where a waiting customer seems to recognize Dex and then wishes him luck. He seems relieved it's only one.

The rest of the afternoon is spent at Rip Tide headquarters where everyone we meet trips all over themselves to help us. But not in a fawning way, as though they want to impress Dex. More like, they respect him, so they want to help.

A woman—Emily—who has the perfect nose for her piercing leads us to the sample floor. And by floor, I mean an entire warehouse floor of an office building.

There are racks of clothes, and stacks of boxes that Emily tells us will have the sizes we need if we don't find them on the rack.

"That area there is the summer season that just ended." She points to a spot on our left where I already see a bright blue something I want to check out.

Emily indicates the areas for the other seasons, including the winter season that hasn't been released yet. And by "winter" season, she definitely means a California winter. Even from across the room, I can tell there won't be anything in that section that will cover enough of me to survive a Paradise winter. Too many straps and not enough sleeves and fleece.

"I'll leave you to it. Take what you want. Just be sure to get pictures with Dex tomorrow while you're wearing our clothes, then tag us," Emily explains, which sparks Stella to strike up a conversation about social media marketing.

Talking about the work she does for Georgia is the only thing that could keep Stella from stuffing bags full of clothes like she's on that grocery game show, where the people have to buy as much as possible in ten minutes, or something equally ridiculous.

I wander toward the summer section, smiling as I hear Emily compliment Stella on the Georgia Rose Instagram page and TikTok, both of which Stella manages. She doesn't get any recognition for it, because it's supposed to look as though it's all Georgia. But I guess anyone who is in social media marketing would understand that's not how things work.

So, I leave the two of them to talk and, to save time, start pulling things Stella might like. Dex stays close to me while Archie makes his way to the men's area. When I take a dress off the rack, Dex makes a "hmm" sound.

"What?" I hold up the bright pink dress to examine it more closely.

"That's not something I thought you'd pick out."

"It's Stella's style. She may want it." I try not to notice that Dex seems to know my taste pretty well.

He takes the clothes from my arms. "What's in this pile that's for you?"

I pretend not to hear the question.

"Brit- ta, " he prods.

"Nothing yet. I haven't really found anything." The hangers scrape across the metal rod as I rifle through the clothes.

Dex's gaze drops to the growing pile of clothes in his arms. "Are you trying to find something for yourself? Or are you only looking for Stella?"

Stella, still talking to Emily, laughs and the sound echoes through the concrete and metal warehouse.

"I'll look for myself in a minute."

Dex does an about face and walks to Stella. They exchange some words I can't hear. Then she holds out her arms and he lays the clothes across them.

"Oh! Good choices, Brit!" Stella's excitement reverberates off the walls, giving her words a high, tinny sound. "Now look for yourself!"

Dex comes back, grabs me by the hand, and drags me to a rounder of t-shirts and shorts. He pulls things from them, and in a matter of minutes my arms are as full of stuff for me as they were with what I'd picked out for Stella.

"That's enough! I'm only in San Clemente for one day, not the entire month." The clothes are as high as my chin, and Dex still searches the racks. "It's going to take me hours to try this stuff on."

"There aren't dressing rooms." Dex is still pulling stuff for me. "If it doesn't fit, I'll bring it back or give it to someone else."

I'm about to argue more, but Dex stops me. "Most gir— women would be stoked at a free shopping spree."

As much as I'd like to debunk the stereotype, he's not wrong. Now that she's done talking to Emily, Stella's arms are so full, she looks like a walking laundry pile.

He stretches out his arms. "Your turn to look. Give me those."

After a second's hesitation, I dump the clothes into his arms. I put in a half-hearted effort to rifle through a stack of colorful T-shirts folded on a table.

"To be honest, I haven't shopped for clothes in a long time. Unless going to the same website once or twice a year to order the exact style of jeans and shirts I always wear, but in different colors, counts as shopping."

Dex shakes his head. "I reckon it doesn't."

I laugh, then add a shirt I might actually like to the stack in his arms. "Mom and I used to take shopping trips to Salt Lake City when we had the chance. I enjoyed shopping back then."

"Let's make it fun now. How about a little competition? You've got fifteen minutes to grow your pile higher than Stella's. The only rule is, you have to at least like what you pick." His eyes dance with a challenge I can't say no to.

So, I load Dex up with more clothes until Emily has to bring us a giant bag for them or he's going to tip over. I genuinely like what I pick, but I stop short when Dex points out the most gorgeous, long, flowy dress I've ever seen.

"That would be gorg on you," he says.

I think he might be right. Its straps criss-cross in the back and it's my favorite shade of bright green. I rub the silky fabric between my fingertips, which is even softer than I'd imagined. But then I see the price tag.

"It's way too expensive, and I'll never wear it," I tell him, but, ignoring me, he rearranges the clothes in his arms. Before I can stop him, he grabs the dress and shoves it into the bag. I reach inside the bag, but he clamps it close to his side, forcing me to pull my hand from between his rock-solid arm and side without the dress.

" Liam ." I use my sternest voice. "You'll just end up bringing it back. I've, literally, got nowhere to wear it."

"Reckon you'll have to find somewhere to wear it then, because it's perfect for you." He raises his eyebrows just enough to convey he's ready and willing to go to battle over this.

"Fine." Then I realize exactly what event it will be perfect for. "I'll wear it when I take you to dinner to celebrate you being the World Champion of Surfing."

Archie comes up behind Dex as I emphasize the last words so they ring through the giant room like I've announced them over a microphone.

Archie breaks into a reluctant grin and follows my words with a rousing cry of "Liam Dexter!" And then Stella, who never misses any kind of celebration, big or small, breaks into a cheer of her own.

And underneath all the cheering, I swear I hear Dex mutter, "I'll win just to see you in that dress."