27. Chapter 27

Chapter twenty-seven

Fenella

I don't remember the last time I didn't have plans on a Saturday night or spent it alone without Coral or Ashton to hang out with.

I unpack my bags, hang clothes in Edie's closet, and prepare for some alone time tonight.

It's a surprise that the thought of it actually excites me.

I've always hated weekends when I didn't have plans. When my friends were busy, when I wasn't dating anyone, if Ashton was off doing his racing thing and I couldn't join him. I've always been an extrovert. A people person.

Coral was the only one who asked me if I was going to be okay going to Laandia on my own.

Now it doesn't seem so bad.

Once I hang things up, and am refreshed by the pumpkin spice flowing through my veins, I head back out to the hardware store to buy cleaning supplies.

The only thing I'll say about that trip is that Jim and Bob who work there had an enjoyable time teaching me the ins and outs of the various cleaning products .

Back at Edie's, I curl up on the couch with my laptop, Ernie the cat perched at my feet, watching me with suspicious yellow eyes as I get to work on party/opening bar planning.

I scour Pinterest and make a vision board. I work on a business plan. I've never actually made a spreadsheet, but thanks to a few YouTube videos, I do quite well with it.

Stella tells me about a Facebook group for small businesses in Battle Harbour, and I start calling around to get quotes on the work I think the place needs.

I really like the idea of creating a new bar for the town. I think it's exactly what the women of Battle Harbour need, and having my party there will show everyone.

While I'm doing this, I get to know Ernie the cat. He eventually lets me pet him and curls up at my side when I go to bed.

I talk to my father; via email, but it's still a conversation. He tells me things have begun to settle down. Only one person tagged me on Instagram last night, but it was a grainy picture and you couldn't really tell it was me.

I'm not sure how my father knows I'm no longer viral—possibly Peter, his assistant told him—but it's good news to me.

Plan on returning the coming weekend, he writes.

Next weekend? My birthday is Sunday night and that's when I planned the party for.

I'll stay an extra day, I've got plans for the weekend .

He counters with an email with an offer to show me around the company next Tuesday, maybe see about finding me a role that fits my skill level.

It's what I wanted, so where's the excitement? Why do I have this feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach?

I push it away. My life is not here. I'm not a part of this community, as much as they have welcomed me.

But part of me wants to be.

Sunday morning, I'm awake early, thanks to Ernie the cat. But it's a good thing.

It's cleaning day.

I have a week to get this place party ready.

Coffee for the Sole is not as busy when I push open the door, but then again, it's a lot earlier than yesterday. There are only a few customers at the tables absorbed in crossword puzzles and newspapers, and no one is in line as I prop my broom and mop against the wall with my bucket of supplies.

"Whatcha got there?" Wyatt calls to me. He's the only one behind the counter.

"I'm cleaning." I enunciate the word because it's a first for me. "Cleaning."

"So you said. Where are you cleaning?"

Silas comes out of the back room with a bottle of syrup in his hands. "Hey," he says with a surprised smile. "Hi."

"Hi." When I see Silas, it's like a light switch is turned on inside me, or a string of Christmas lights plugged in for the first time. I feel in focus, at attention.

I feel seen. Silas sees me.

I make my way to the counter on suddenly shaky legs. Silas makes me feel seen. Tiger…

Tiger only noticed himself with me. Lennon wanted me for arm candy. Emmanuel, Tamir, Stavros… no one made me feel like Silas does. Gunnar came close, but there's been no one—

"You okay?" Silas asks. He's back to wearing flannel—this one a simple blue, red, and white pattern that does nothing special to his eyes—and his scruffy beard is more scruff than beard. But he's smiling at me, the smile reaching his green eyes.

My stomach flutters like the leaves of a maple tree when an October wind blows through it.

"Great."

"No exclamation points on your great today?"

I shake my head. "Not this morning."

"Let's hope you get them back today. The regular, I assume?"

"Please. And a cinnamon bun. I think I need the sugar."

Wyatt stands firm behind the cash register, which means Silas, with a quick rueful shake of his head, makes my drink. "You just work weekends?" I ask Wyatt .

"And school holidays. Silas says I need to study more in my spare time, not fool around in here after school." Wyatt makes a face.

"You want to go to university, you need the grades," Silas tells him as he pumps syrup into my cup.

"He's right," I say.

"Where did you go to school?" Wyatt asks me.

"I did a semester at UCLA, but school was never my thing. I started modeling then and you can't be in Europe and a classroom at the same time." That semester I spent in college feels so long ago.

It was also the last time I felt like a regular person, at least before I came here.

"I wish I finished though," I add. "I really think I missed out on a lot. Where do you want to go?"

"Montreal." Wyatt sounds excited just saying the name, but by the expression on Silas's face, he clearly doesn't share the excitement.

"Montreal is a great place."

"I have one more year of high school, and then I'm gone."

"You've got it all planned out."

"I can't wait." Wyatt sounds impossibly young. Or maybe it's just in the light, he looks less like a clone of Silas. As he warms up my cinnamon bun, Wyatt chatters about his plans for the future.

None of which seem to involve staying in Laandia.

My heart hurts for Silas, who listens to Wyatt without saying a word. Another person he loves will leave him.

I don't want to hurt him.