17. Britta

Chapter seventeen

Britta

I 'm kicking back on the couch watching 90 Day Fiancé with Stella while thinking about Annie's offer to sell me her coffee shop. I've given myself a million reasons I'd never be able to do it, but I can't shake the feeling of excitement at the idea of owning a coffee shop on the outskirts of LA, a couple blocks from the Pacific Ocean.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it from the pocket of Dex's Rip Tide hoodie that I forgot to give back to him and have made daily use of since "forgetting."

"It's Zach." I swing my feet off the ottoman and stand. "Pause it until I get back, please."

Stella's shoulders fold in disappointment. "Hurry! I need to know if Rob cheated on Sophie."

"No one needs to know that." I step over Stella's legs, which she doesn't move from the ottoman, before taking the call.

"Hey, Zach!" I walk into the kitchen and sit on a barstool while Stella flips impatiently through the TV channels.

"Hey, Sis. How's it going?" My brother's cheerful voice is more muted than usual.

"All good." We make small talk for a few minutes—it's cooling down in Paradise; people had on puffy jackets here today, even though it was sixty degrees most of the day—while I wait for him to tell me why he's called.

"Listen, I've got some news I wanted to share with you first," he says finally. "The city contacted me about buying the land Britta's is on. Since it's right next to the new community center, they've decided it would be a good idea to own it so they can add on to the center in the next few years."

"Sooo, what would happen to Britta's ?" I have an idea, but I'm not sure how to feel yet, other than stunned.

"They'd tear it down."

Hearing the words out loud immediately brings me clarity. "You told them no, right?"

"I wanted to talk to you first."

"Why? Did you think I'd say anything but no?" I sit up straighter on the stool and brace myself for whatever arguments Zach may be prepared to throw my way.

He's a realtor, so it makes sense the city would approach him. But he's also the most likable of us Thomsen kids. Zach has sweet-talked himself out of a lot of tight spots. Whoever approached him probably thought he'd be able to sweet talk all of us into taking the deal.

Wrong.

I'm immune to my brother's charm.

"I knew you'd say no, but I thought you might change your mind after I told you what we could do, so Britta's is yours . " Zach has slipped into his deep, smooth-as-butter salesman's tone, which also means he'll be doing all the talking. "The city is offering a good price. Enough that, if Cassie were on board, we could renovate the apartment portion of her bookstore into a new Britta's. "

I don't hate the idea. Cassie's bookstore is in an old building that once belonged to Mom's family, too. Moving Britta's there would make sense historically, but Cassie owns the building now.

"How would moving Britta's to the bookstore that Cassie owns make it mine?" I want something that's my own. Something I can pass down to my kids, if I ever have them, and if they wanted it. "And what would happen to Britta's if the bookstore closes or Cassie has to sell the building?"

"Those are all details we can work out later, but before we sell the plot Britta's is on now, I'll convince everyone to deed you their portion. You'll own the business itself and have the capital to re-open in a new location," Zach says with a confidence I envy, despite knowing it was hard-earned.

"Why not convince them to give me Britta's now?"

"If we don't move from the current location, do you want to be entirely responsible for all the repairs Britta's needs?" He has a good point, which is annoying.

Even though I've primarily run Britta's for the past five years, everyone has pitched in, working a few shifts a week, at least. When Adam took over Mom's other restaurant, the Garden of Eatin' , he bought her out. Britta's is the only thing Mom had to give us when she passed. It wouldn't really be fair to ask everyone to share the cost of repairs beyond what insurance covers, then ask them to give me the refurbished coffee shop.

"I'll think about," I tell Zach. "But I'm not sure if having the name to myself is worth giving up the shop itself. That's where the memories of Mom are."

"Yeah, I get what you mean." Though he's sympathetic, I hear the but in his voice. "We'd be saying goodbye to a piece of her history, but the memories of her are with us ."

"I spent a lot of time there with her, Zach." I try not to sound defensive, but it's different for him. He doesn't have the same emotional attachment to Britta's.

"I know, but think about it."

We end our conversation, and even though I've promised him I'll consider the offer, all I want to do is go back to watching 90 Day Fiancé and not think about anything. Because all I'm thinking about now is that I have to decide about whether I'm leaving with Stella on Monday or staying in LA by myself. To be honest, I was leaning toward staying. Annie needs me here. I still can't shake the idea of buying Annie's from her, but now I'm wondering if Britta's needs me more. I'm being pulled between doing what I want to do and what I should do.

It's the same feeling I had when Mom got sick, and I had to decide between taking an internship in LA or going home to Paradise.

I slide off the kitchen stool, but I barely make it to the couch before there's a knock at the door.

Somehow, I know it's Dex. Probably because I don't know anyone else in LA, but also, the knock sounds like him, patient and persistent at the same time. I've both expected he'd stop by once he got back and also felt anxious about it.

I'd be lying if I said Dex wasn't one reason I was thinking of staying longer. Over the past week, I couldn't stop myself from texting—and occasionally talking to—Dex, even knowing if I choose to leave, it'll be easier if I don't have to stamp out any sparks I've stoked to life.

At the same time, our first goodbye was the best goodbye I've ever had. Great kissing; very little talking; no use of the actual word goodbye .

Now that he's actually here, though, I'm frozen. I want to see him, but I also want to leave LA with no emotional attachments, and I need a second to think about which I want more.

"Will you get that?" I ask Stella.

She looks at me with her enormous eyes and a smirk that tells me she knows who's knocking, and she's not interested in throwing me a life preserver. "I'm not wearing a bra."

I don't think she's worn a bra since we got here. She's never really needed one to begin with, but she runs to her room and shuts the door before I can point out either of those things.

So I go to the door, making one quick stop in front of the mirror hanging in the breakfast nook. I've been at Annie's most of the day, and I look—and smell—like it. There's not a lot I can do beyond tightening my ponytail and smoothing away some smudged mascara under my eyes.

I open the door to see exactly who I thought—and, okay, hoped —it would be.

"Hi," Dex says, his dimple playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Hi." My eyes get stuck on his lips and that dimple. "Welcome back, Champ."

His grin grows. "Thought I'd drop by to ask when I could collect on that dinner you promised."

I open the door wider. "I can make you the best bowl of cereal you've ever eaten right now."

Dex shifts like he's going to come in but stays in the doorway. "I seem to recall something about a green dress in your promise."

The way Dex's eyes light up when he mentions the green dress sends a rush of adrenaline straight from my heart to my brain. I want to put on the dress right now, just so I can watch his golden-brown eyes grow darker. Looking at him leaning against the doorframe—wanting to yank him inside so hard that we collide, lips and all—I know what the right decision is.

My attraction to Dex is as powerful as a retreating wave. As hard as I try to resist its tug, I can't stop being pulled deeper…

Unless I get out of his path.

It's time to go.

I tip my head. "Will you hate me if I back out of my promise?"

His head cocks back with surprise, and I have to tell him the truth.

"I like you Dex, a lot," I say, and his face lifts so quickly, I hate that what I have to say will wipe away his smile. "But I just got some bad news, and I need to go back to Paradise. I'm leaving Monday."

His mouth drops, but in seconds he's schooled his emotions behind a pleasant grin.

"Your family needs you back that soon?" He asks so casually that he's obviously more invested in my answer than he wants to let on.

I nod. " Britta's does, anyway."

Dex studies me carefully, questions flicking in his eyes while I clutch the inside door handle, waiting. "Is that what you want? To go back?"

I shrug. "What I want isn't really important. People need me."

"People? Or your business? A business is made up of people, but it's not people."

I don't answer. I can't find the words.

Dex stands straight and makes a disappointed tsk. "Raincheck, then?"

I nod. "Next time you're in Paradise."

"Next time I'm in Paradise." He backs away from the door.

"See you then." I lift my hand, then drop it and slowly close the door as he turns toward his apartment.

The door clicks shut, but I take a few seconds before I'm ready to walk away. I did the right thing, stepping out of the current pulling me toward Dex. The disappointment I feel will pass.

I let go of the doorknob, turn around and nearly run into Stella.

"You are an idiot." Her hands are on her hips, and the fiery Italian half of her DNA is on full display. "You've got Dex and Annie both begging you to stay, and you're running back to Paradise to handle problems that can be handled by the people there."

"I wouldn't call what Dex said begging." I step around her without meeting her glare. "He refused my offer of cereal."

"Fine, then only Annie begged with words. Dex kept it to body language." Stella follows me into the hallway.

"I'm not talking about this, Stella." I head toward my bedroom to escape whatever lecture she's got cooking.

I can't deny what she said about Annie, or that, if a pile of money fell into my lap, I would buy her coffee shop. My pulse ticks up a notch every time I think about the possibility. But it's not realistic, and neither is anything long term with Dex, so why set myself up for disappointment?

"You should take the city's offer to buy Britta's and use the money to live your own dreams." Stella's statement stops me in my tracks, and she runs into me.

I turn slowly and face her. "You were listening to my conversation?"

Her cheeks color slightly, but she pulls her shoulders back. "It's not my fault you all are loud talkers."

"It's not your business, Stella." I step into my room, but she presses her hand to the door to stop me from closing it.

I drop my hand from the knob and glare at her.

"You know you get rude when you get defensive?" Stella glares back at me. "We're all family, so it is our business. Maybe not financially for me, but… heritagely. Britta was my great-grandma too."

"Heritagely? Not a word." With Stella blocking the door, I give up, closing it and walk into my room. But my hands need something to do, so I grab an elastic from my dresser and look at myself in the mirror while twisting my hair into a topknot. "If you care so much about Britta's , then you should understand why I need to go back and why I don't want to sell to the city and why I have to keep it running."

Stella catches my eyes in the mirror. "I do understand. I understand all of it. But I also understand that you're using Britta's as an excuse to run from your feelings. You're doing the same thing with Annie's. "

I finish winding an elastic around my hair, then face Stella. "What are you talking about?"

"You're staying as busy as possible so you don't have to deal with your grief." Stella's voice softens. "It won't work. You can't keep running. You have to deal with the trauma. It's why you're here, Britta. It's why everyone encouraged you to go."

Stella's words stun me. I can't move.

"What trauma?"

Stella lets out a long sigh, edged with frustration. "You watched your mom die. For five years."

"That's not trauma. That's life." My voice cracks, and I back away from Stella.

She smiles sadly and moves toward the open door. "Georgia offered you this apartment so you could slow down and give yourself time to recover. Your family knows you need this break. Let them give you that gift. How else can they repay you for taking care of your mom all those years?"

Apparently, it's a rhetorical question because Stella doesn't wait for me to answer before stepping out the door and closing it behind her to leave me alone.

All alone, except for my thoughts. If those count, then I'm in a very crowded room. A crowded room every inch of my body wants to escape.

But where would I go that Stella's words, my thoughts, and my memories of Mom wouldn't follow?

I stare at myself in the mirror. Even in my reflection, I can't escape seeing Mom. I look too much like her. But I also see my dad in the shape of my nose, my brothers in the curve of my lips. I share so many similarities with all of them that even people who are strangers to me, but not my parents or brothers, have asked me if I'm their daughter or sister.

And I wonder if I've ever seen myself just for who I am, rather than who I am because of the family I'm part of.

I study my reflection more closely, searching for something that's only me. I can't see it yet, but I think I might if I give myself more time. I stare harder, thinking not only about what Stella's said but also Dex's question about what I want.

It's an excellent question that I can't answer. This is an unfamiliar experience for me, sitting with my thoughts, letting them sink in and take hold in a way I never have before.

Because Stella's right. I have been running. And I'm tired. And sad. Maybe even a little lonely. Mom was my best friend. Then she got sick, and I lost the person I told everything and counted on to help me make sense of my life. That person eventually didn't even know me anymore.

But I didn't know her either. That was the hardest part; watching Mom become someone else.

I stare so hard in the mirror that my vision goes fuzzy, except for a bright green spot in my closet.

My focus goes to the dress hanging there. The green dress I promised to wear for Dex. Dex, who makes me smile. Who makes me laugh. Who makes me feel. Whose kisses make the world around me go as soft and fuzzy as it is right now, before bringing it into sharper focus, full of color and depth.

Watching him reach his dream was awesome, in the truest sense of the word. But knowing even a little about what it took for him to get there is inspiring. He didn't rely on luck. He set high goals, then worked his hardest to achieve them.

I remember when I used to do the same, whether it was making straight A's, getting into a good university, or joining clubs and networking in order to get a prestigious internship after graduating from college. In the years after Mom got sick, I stopped setting my own goals. My only focus was on keeping her alive and comfortable for as long as possible.

I'm not ready to fall in love—I'm not sure I'll ever be. But running from the possibility—especially when the chance is so slim—isn't the answer. Why not use the next few weeks to figure out who I am and what it is I want?

And why not let Dex be part of that?

As hard as it is to admit, other people can handle Britta's right now. It's hard to imagine my life without Britta's, so if I decide that's part of who I want to be, I'll be managing the restaurant for as long as I can. This may be my one real vacation for a very long time.

The most important thing I learned taking care of Mom is that life is short. Why not squeeze the most out of it?

I take a deep, staggered breath, then reach for my phone.

Fine. I'll stay.

Seconds later Stella whoops and another few seconds after that, my phone pings.

Stella has sent me a gif of a baby doing a celebratory dance.

I laugh, then examine the green dress for wrinkles. I'm going to need it tomorrow.