Page 3 of First Street (Harbor View Cozy Fantasy #1)

Chapter Two

Ocean

The Welcome to Historic Harbor View Borough sign flashed past, but Ocean barely noticed. Her brain was elsewhere.

She was doing what she always did, running pros and cons. Classic Ocean.

She’d basically been a list-maker since she could hold a pencil. According to her mom, it started when she was a toddler, separating alphabet noodles on her plate and lining them up in rows. One day she’d eat only A’s. No B’s. The next day, different letter. Totally random toddler logic.

By four, it was crayon sorting before coloring.

Warm colors on one side, cool on the other.

By five, she was listing pros and cons for playground activities.

Swings? High and fun = pro. Waiting your turn = solid con.

At six, she moved on to bedtime stories.

Talking animals? Obvious pro. Monsters? Massive con. So many reasons.

Now, at fifteen, the habit had just...stuck. Like breathing.

Every decision needed a list. Even little stuff.

Should she take AP History in the fall? Should she study while scrolling TikTok, or like, actually study?

Soccer or debate? Those super cute boots she loved?

or the ‘more practical’ ones her mom kept nudging?

And, most recently, whether she should flirt with the hot new guy in English who just moved to town.

That one was still open. Potential romance vs. potential humiliation. A very tight race.

For Ocean, making lists was basically a reflex. Like breathing, but with bullet points. No decision was too big or too small. And it wasn’t just in her head, either. Nothing beat actual paper, a good pencil, and two well-organized columns to make everything feel a little less chaotic.

Right now, the stakes felt higher than usual. She was mentally deep in a pros and cons list about California.

The pro side? Honestly, kind of dreamy: blue skies, palm trees, year-round sunshine, the Pacific Ocean, and obviously her friends.

But the con side? Yeah, it had weight too.

Their North Hollywood apartment where the AC wheezed like it had asthma, the windows were painted shut, and the “luxury courtyard pool” looked more like a biohazard than a place to swim.

Her best friend Ivy wasn’t even in L.A. anymore.

She was ping-ponging between Utah and Arizona, thanks to her parents’ divorce.

Sure, they still talked, but California didn’t feel like home without her.

As for the rest of Ocean’s social life? Meh. She wasn’t the popular girl. Not the queen bee, not even one of the worker bees. She had people to sit with at lunch, but no deep friendships that made leaving L.A. feel like an emotional cliff dive.

Which brought her back to the list.

There was one person messing things up: her dad.

He definitely belonged on the pro side. She loved him. He was handsome (Ivy swore Rhys was the hottest old guy alive), and when he was around, he could be warm, almost affectionate.

But he also belonged firmly on the con side.

In his own head, he was a legend. An artiste. A star-in-waiting. And yeah, everything else—Ocean included—came way second to himself.

As far as she was concerned, her father had always been sprinting after a dream that refused to be caught. He wanted the kind of fame where people would stop him on the street, gasp in recognition, and whisper, Oh my God, isn’t that...? But he wasn’t there yet. Not even close.

Maybe this film would finally do it, she thought.

Maybe this one would put him on the B-list. Maybe it would even vault him into the career that would place him with the immortals of Hollywood history.

Scorsese and Spielberg calling with offers every week.

Parties at Leonardo’s house. A week with George and Amal at their place on Lake Como.

Front row at the Oscars. Custom-made tux. Applause.

Or maybe, more likely, it’d just be another chapter in the epic saga of Almost and Not Quite.

No matter what, his ego was already too big to fit through the front door. Which was ironic, considering how rarely he bothered to walk through it.

And the worst part? The actual worst part?

He treated Mom like she was invisible. Like she was just there.

..sometimes. Not a partner. Not a person.

Just some kind of background extra in the movie of his life.

When he did talk to her, it was all logistics: Did you grab my dry cleaning ?

I’ll be late tonight . Like she was his assistant. Not his wife.

And Ocean didn’t want to get started on his promises.

He made plenty. I’ll be there. I swear. Just one more meeting .

One callback he couldn’t miss. But when it came to actually showing up for something having to do with her or her mom?

Forget it. He was basically the Harry Houdini of fatherhood.

Now you see him, now you don’t. One second he’s here, the next—poof—another empty seat at the dinner table.

Another dance recital with no Rhys in the front row clapping for her.

But hey. Sure. Maybe this movie would finally make him a household name. Great.

Too bad the household he already had was falling apart without him even noticing.

The truth was that he didn’t care. If Mom was Martin Scorsese’s daughter, he would have noticed. That’s for sure.

California used to be stacked with pros.

It was where Ocean grew up, where she knew every corner of NoHo, where jasmine and orange blossoms made the air smell like summer even in January.

But lately, something had shifted. Maybe it was her.

Maybe it was the place. Or maybe it was the way her mom kept pretending everything was fine when it obviously wasn’t.

Ocean glanced at her mom’s white-knuckled grip on the wheel.

At her profile. She was really pretty, especially when she actually put on makeup and swapped the jeans and sneakers for something not picked off the floor.

But lately? It looked like she was giving up.

Letting herself fade. Like she didn’t see the point in trying anymore.

And if they actually made it to New Mexico?

Ocean didn’t love their odds. Hollywood was crawling with hot, self-absorbed girls who had grown up knowing how to get what they wanted.

If any of them had even a ‘hint’ of daddy issues, Rhys would be all over that.

Ocean could already see it, even if her mom didn’t.

He’d be more than flattered. He’d lean in. He always did.

New Mexico. Ocean stared out the window. Not on her list.

The car made a right, and they crossed the bridge over the railroad tracks. Straight ahead was the borough.

Over the years, Ocean had seen the way her mom’s face lit up whenever she talked about Harbor View.

Not about the stuff from before Clare adopted her—that was a blank—but the years after.

The village, the people, the beach days and sailing and swimming out to the sandbar.

Digging clams. Snagging lobsters from the summer people’s traps.

Helping at the Borough Fair in July and the Holiday Festival in December.

When Mom told those stories, she looked different. Lighter. Almost happy. And every time, Ocean wondered: Why did she ever leave ? Why hadn’t she come back ?

Well…maybe it wasn’t too late.

This was Ocean’s mission now.

She had two weeks. Two weeks to convince Skye that Harbor View—windy, weird, and unfamiliar as it was—was still better than California.

Better than a man who cared more about his IMDB page than the people he was supposed to love.

Whatever they had here, whatever they could have? It was worth staying for.

Because California didn’t feel like home anymore.

And maybe, Ocean thought, it never really had.

Two weeks.

The countdown had started.