Chapter 13

As it turned out,falling asleep on a hard floor barely cushioned by a thin rug hadn't been the best of ideas for two forty-somethings. Both Mae and Dell hobbled to their vehicles early the next morning with matching scowls, returning to Dell's home on the hill as the sun was rising, the morning mist rising off the beach. Later, Mae would laugh at the memory of the two of them stumbling out of the bookstore in the dark, grumpy as hell and in pain, but at the time, all Mae wanted was a hot shower and the soft comfort of a bed.

Dell's truck had left the gravel drive again sometime later, but Mae stayed holed up in the ADU for the rest of the day. Once she was more awake, she opened her laptop, placed more orders for the shop. Finished an assignment for class, did her required check-in on the message board. When her brain was done with working, she sat at the tiny kitchen table, sipping tea out of one of Lauren's mugs. Staring out into Dell's landscaping, the trees beyond, the ocean she knew lay beyond that.

And she thought about Dell's dark eyes, boring into her own as they looked at each other across the floor. How his voice turned even deeper, even scrapier, when he was tired. The warmth of his scalp under her fingertips.

Shit.

Mae covered her face with her hands and breathed in, deep and slow. Her back still ached, but her headache had finally fully receded. She knew champagne always gave her wicked hangovers, especially cheap stuff that shouldn't even be called champagne, but…it had felt like a good idea, at the time.

Dell had talked about making dumbass decisions in your twenties, but the more her irrefutable crush on her landlord solidified, Mae couldn't help but think that maybe dumbass decisions never truly went away.

Part of her itched to get back to the shop and work away this distraction until she could fully compartmentalize. Tuck whatever fantasies she had about Dell McCleary neatly away.

The other part of her…it was immature, but she couldn't stop thinking about how this was exactlythe kind of hot dish that Jesus Herrera-Baptiste would have absolutely shivered with delight to learn all about. She wished he was here. She wished he could make her laugh. About Dell. About how proud he was of her. About all of it. God, Jesus would love Olive.

It occurred to her, though, after a while, that there was someone else who would love to gossip about Dell, too. Mae just hadn't talked to him in what felt like a long time.

Mae grabbed her phone off the table, searching for Theo's name in her messages.

They had never conversed much in one-on-one texting, even before Mae left Portland; Theo was the kind of friend you connected with in person when you were together, so instantly and importantly that it somehow sustained all the stretches of silence in between. She contemplated sending him one of the pictures of Dell she'd surreptitiously taken over the past few weeks: at the lumberyard; working on the bookshelves. She was positive Theo would have things! to! say, honey!

I miss you, she ended up typing instead.

Something healed in her when it only took Theo, a notorious erratic texter, five minutes to reply. Mae Bae ??

miss you too

when can we come see your store?

Mae bit her lip, heart warming even more at the fact that he wanted to come. That he wasn't still mad at her for leaving.

She tried to not think about it, the idea of her friends here, in Greyfin Bay. She wanted it too badly. It felt foolish, somehow, wanting it. Like she was failing Liv. Proving Dell right.

Soon ??, she texted back.

While she had her screen up, she navigated to Instagram to check on Bay Books's account. She frowned at a spattering of new comments on her most recent post from yesterday. It was a simple post, Dell's installed bookshelf to the right, the trans flag in the front window visible to the left. It is ON, she'd typed in the caption.

For some reason, this had inspired her fellow humans and/or bots to say:

Go back to Epstein Island

Greyfin Bay needs to remain safe for our children

k*ll yrself

And for half a second, as happened every time, Mae almost deleted the whole post. She almost deleted the whole account. She almost planned what she'd say to Dell as she packed her bags and forgot this entire fucking venture.

But then the half second passed, and she deleted the comments. Blocked the users. Tossed her phone back on the table and stood, grabbing a pint of Ben Jerry's from the freezer. She breathed out a sigh of relief when the first bite hit her tongue.

Her phone buzzed.

With trepidation, she picked it up. And burst out laughing in relief as she read the text from Vik. Jackson had apparently been trying to get into bread making, and it was not going well.

Mae responded while she wandered into her bedroom-slash-living room, and then she tossed the phone onto the foot of the bed, resolving to keep it there, face down in time out. She drifted instead toward the shelves that lined the back wall, ice cream carton still in hand. Something about this particular night tugged her there, a pull underneath her sternum that made her stop and really look.

She had brought a random collection of paperbacks from Portland, stuffing them into every nook and cranny of the car: behind her suitcases in the trunk, underneath the seats, tucked next to her pilea peperomioides. It had been frivolous, she knew, bringing along books when she barely had room in her little Kia for actual essentials. But what kind of reader moved to the coast to start a bookstore without at least a few of their own favorites?

Some she'd read before, some multiple times; a few were volumes from favorite authors she hadn't gotten around to yet. There was Ann Patchett and Akwaeke Emezi; Alexis Hall and Talia Hibbert. Kate Clayborn, Gabriel García Márquez. Cat Sebastian, Olivia Dade. Kacen Callender and Jonny Garza Villa.

She contemplated the shelf.

She knew it was a bad idea.

But she picked up a Lisa Kleypas anyway.

* * *

Damn that Lisa. Damn her to hell.

Of course Mae had ruined whatever semblance of rest she'd gained the day before, staying up entirely too late inside the ridiculous, wonderful world of historical romance. But whatever, maybe she could fuck up her sleep as much as Dell's in solidarity.

No, that probably wasn't a good idea. Grand gestures for a person who was likely already seeing someone else weren't a good idea, either, but dammit, Kleypas was in her brain.

And fine, maybe a morning beverage wasn't the grandest of gestures. But when Mae finally blinked awake after the fifteenth snooze of her alarm and the idea needled into her mind, she felt good about it anyway.

With each mile she drove to Lincoln City with tired eyes, though, she was more and more grateful she had picked up the mass market paperback last night, in a way that had nothing at all to do with Dell McCleary, but everything to do with the way she still felt wrapped in its magic this morning. The absolute blessing of that feeling.

That feeling was why she was here.

She had to keep remembering why she was here.

An hour later, she approached Dell on the back porch of 12 Main Street, hands hidden behind her back. She smiled when she saw him, bent at the waist, the whir of his power sander echoing through the alley. It was a Saturday; he didn't need to be here. But somehow she knew he would be anyway.

"Hey." Dell straightened with a frown once he noticed her, pushing his safety glasses into his hair. "Where have you been? You normally?—"

His voice cut off as Mae shoved the matcha latte into his hand.

"Good morning," she said. "Thought you deserved one of these."

Dell stared down at the green froth in his cup.

"I'll be out for a bit today," Mae added. "I'm heading down the coast to pick up some candles and soap made by a woman near Newport that I'm going to sell in the shop."

"Okay," Dell said, still staring at the cup in his hand.

Mae contemplated saying thank you, for the other night, or thank you, for…everything, or something else silly and romance novel-influenced, but the rational part of her brain knew nothing else truly needed to be said. So she turned to head inside, until Dell said, "Mae," and she paused.

"I should have this next bookshelf done soon," he said.

Mae smiled. "That's amazing, Dell."

"Thanks for the matcha."

"Thanks for the bookshelves."

And when he finally lifted his head and smiled back at her, she opened the door to the office and stepped inside before she could linger any longer in the moment than she should.

* * *

Mae clapped in delight when Antonio knocked on the back door on Monday morning.

"Antonio! My favorite person."

"Bet you tell Kat the same thing." Antonio quirked an eyebrow at her as he dumped his armful of packages onto the counter. Mae gasped.

"I would never."

She totally told Kat the same thing.

And Cooper.

"All right, you're all set for today," Antonio said as he scanned the last package. Because Bae Books was beginning to receive so much actual merchandise, all set for today was officially a thing delivery drivers said to Mae. "You have a good day."

"You too!" she called to his back as he retreated to his UPS truck, idling at the edge of the alley. She really did love Antonio. And Kat, her FedEx driver. And Cooper, her mail carrier for USPS. They were all, each and every one of them, her favorite people in Greyfin Bay. Well, after Liv.

She actually squealed when she opened the boxes Antonio had brought her today. She FaceTimed Vik immediately.

"Vik!" she screamed into the phone, flipping the screen to show the goods on the countertop. "Your stickers came! And your cards! And they are so good."

"Show me the whale with glasses better," Vik instructed, laughter in their voice.

"Oh, the whale with glasses is top tier, Vik." Shuffling through the stacks of Vik-designed merchandise on the counter, she brought the sticker of the whale reading a book, propped on a sea rock, closer to the phone. In the corner of Mae's screen, Vik's head dropped back as they laughed.

"This is the finest work I have ever done. Thank you for this, Mae, seriously."

"Thank you. Oh man. I need…vessels."

"Vessels?"

"Yeah, to put all this stuff in, on the counter." Mae's mind was whirring. "I need…so many vessels."

"You're really doing it, Mae."

"Yeah. I should go. I bet you Olive has some good vessels."

"Olive's the one with the antique shop? From Jersey?"

"Yeah. Oh wait, I didn't even ask how you are. I'm sorry. I'm the worst."

"You're not the worst, and I'm good. Just plodding through work that is way more boring than whales with reading glasses, so this has seriously made my day. And hey, give me a little tour before you go. Things look way different from the last time you video called."

And so Mae walked Vik on a slow sweep of the room, watching Vik's dark curls in the corner of her screen, their smile and their own glasses they used while they worked, more than she looked at anything else.

"I miss you," Mae said when she was done, standing in the middle of the rug.

"Miss you, Mae. All right, I should get going, too. Send me pics when you have all my shit in vessels."

"Will do."

Mae smiled down at her phone when they'd hung up.

And then she brought up her messages, and scrolled until she found Ben.

I miss you, she typed. Because she'd decided, after texting Theo, that this would be her new thing. Maybe their relationships would never be exactly the same, with Mae here, with all of them still there. But she could tell her friends, as much as possible, that she missed them.

Dell walked into the room before she could see if Ben replied.

"Hey." He held a small stack of mail in his hands. "Cooper came by, too."

"Sweet." She stuffed her phone in her pocket and walked behind the counter while Dell began to peruse the stickers and postcards. Most of the mail she received was junk, all kinds of banks and contractors reaching out to a new business about loans and services, but seeing mail addressed to Bay Books or to Mae Kellerman at 12 Main Street still brought a flutter of disbelief to her chest.

"Oh my god."

Dell looked up as she held a single envelope, the rest of the flyers dropping out of her hands.

"What is it?"

"I hope…" Instantly, outrageously nervous, Mae ripped open the envelope. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was a rejection because she'd filled out the application wrong, or because she was from Portland, and she knew her flags had caused friction at town council meetings. Maybe?—

Mae read the words on the page and looked back at Dell in awe.

"It's my business license," she said faintly. "Greyfin Bay approved my license."

Dell only smiled back, that slight lift of his mouth. That small shine in his eyes.

"That's great, Mae."

"It's not just great; it's—" She looked back down at the paper in her hands. It was it. The last official approval she needed to become a small business owner. To make Bay Books real. She could open the shop tomorrow, if she wanted to.

"Dell?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to ask you something, and you should definitely feel free to say no."

Dell put the postcards he'd been examining back on the counter, eyes turning cautious.

"Okay."

"Can I hug you? I just…really need to hug someone right now. But I can always go hug Freddy instead."

Dell's mouth twerked back up.

"Think he'd let you?"

"Hell no. But I'd find someone."

"Yeah, Mae. You can hug me."

And so Mae flew around the counter, and into Dell's soft stomach, and it was…exactly as she had known it would be, the first time she saw him. Maybe she couldn't have predicted the exact feel of his arms wrapping around her back, but her face in his shoulder, their bodies pressed together, the way it made everything inside her feel warm and quiet and safe—that was all exactly right. Like she'd already hugged him a hundred times before. He smelled like sawdust and sweat and Greyfin Bay.

She pulled back before, once again, she let herself linger too long.

"I need to buy a frame for that. And vessels." She twirled and ran into the office, grabbing her bag off the desk.

"Next bookshelf will be done in a couple hours!" Dell called to her running form as she sped through the shop.

"Amazing! You're amazing!" Mae called back. "Lock the door behind me, will you?"

And she was gone, again, down Main Street, to find her next missing pieces.

* * *

With Mae's help, Dell pushed the second bookshelf upright.

"You want this one flush against the other? Or you want a slight gap in between?"

Mae walked behind him, examining the space, biting the tip of her thumb. NSYNC'S "Bye Bye Bye" played from the death party playlist.

"Flush," she decided.

So Dell pushed the bookshelf flush with the first, returning a moment later with a stud finder and a drill, a pencil between his teeth. And while Mae knew she wasn't truly needed for this part, she kept standing there anyway, watching his shoulders and his hands once more make his measurements and drill his holes, double checking the alignment of both bookshelves twenty times, until he finally stepped back.

"Amazing," she said. "You're amazing."

"What's going in this one?"

"Non-fiction." She'd start general fiction in the next one. And then, on the other side of the room, her favorites: romance and children's.

"Oh shit," she said suddenly, rushing back behind the counter, clicking off the playlist just in time.

"Why do you always do that?"

Mae looked at Dell after she'd shuffled to something new. He motioned toward her phone.

"You always run over to turn off this playlist after NSYNC's done."

"It's just…" Mae looked away again, clicking the computer awake. "The last song on Jesus's death party playlist. I can't listen to it."

She could sense Dell processing this as a second ticked by, then two. Until?—

"That's right. The death party playlist. So…this is what you played at Jesus's funeral."

Mae shook her head decisively.

"No, at his death party. He had a funeral, too, at his church, but Alexei took care of that part. I don't fuck with church."

"So he had a funeral and a death party."

"Correct."

"And…you played ‘Bye Bye Bye' at the death party. And…‘The Trolley Song.'"

"Jesus played it, technically. He made the playlist, before he died. I just pressed the buttons."

Mae glanced over again when she felt Dell's stare. His arms were crossed over his belly, head tilted.

"Okay. So why can't you listen to the last song?"

"Because." Her eyes darted back to the keyboard. "It's just…Jesus being rude."

Another pause.

"Why don't you take it off the playlist?"

"Because." A lump formed in Mae's throat. How annoying, on such a triumphant day. And anyway, wasn't it obvious? "Jesus made it." Changing the playlist in any way would be like breaking her own heart.

Dell made a small, gentle sound that Mae took to mean he understood.

But as more seconds ticked by, and Dell didn't move from his position in the middle of the room, Mae was forced to look at him again.

He had turned, scratching the back of his head. Mae sensed a mood shift in the air around him, like Dell was gearing up to say something. Her body tensed.

"Liv'll be coming around again tonight to watch the dogs," he finally said, staring straight ahead at the shelves. "Just FYI."

Ah. Mae swallowed. Hugged her arms to herself. Chose her words carefully.

"Another date with your…friend?"

Dell's hand fell to his side. "Yeah."

"Tell him I said hi," Mae said, after a moment. Dell turned to look at her again then. "I want to know all the local authors in the area."

A beat passed, his face unreadable before he said, "Yeah." He turned back to the wall. "I will."

And if Mae hadn't already suspected what this friend meant to Dell, it was cemented, right then, when color seeped into Dell's cheeks: a deep, delicious red.

Mae had never seen Dell blush before.

It made her chest ache.

"I can look after the dogs, you know," she said as she returned to the computer. "If you don't want to bother Liv. I think they know me well enough now."

"Yeah," Dell said, and she purposely avoided looking at him again, reading anything into the slight warble of his voice before he cleared his throat. "You're right. Next time."

"Next time," she echoed, and something tugged inside her throat, sharp and embarrassing.

It was good, she reasoned after Dell left without another word. Good to remember that Dell's heart was already occupied. She had plenty to do anyway. Each day, Mae had more and more merchandise to organize, to label with her new label maker, to track in her new inventory management system. Her own little Blockbuster, in the middle of the Oregon coast.

She logged into her email, and she opened her newest book order. She restarted Jesus's playlist. She was halfway to compartmentalizing already.

And when she unearthed one of Kennedy Remington's candles to burn while she worked, she would've told anyone who stopped by that she was testing out product. That it had nothing at all to do with eliminating the scent of sawdust, lingering in every corner of Bay Books.