Page 21 of The Beach Shack (Laguna Beach #1)
CHAPTER NINETEEN
T he morning after the bonfire, Meg lingered in bed longer than usual. She kept replaying the sound of laughter, the warmth of candlelight, the easy rhythm of a circle she’d never expected to belong to again. Something had shifted.
Then her phone buzzed.
A voice memo from Anna lit up the screen.
“Hi. You had one job. One bonfire. One assignment: tell me what happened. And don’t try to weasel out of it by saying ‘not much.’ If Luke brought you to some moonlit beach of secrets, I expect details. Spill it, Walsh.”
Meg smiled despite herself and hit play again.
She didn’t reply—she had barely processed it herself. But she made a mental note to call Anna later. Her sister wouldn’t let her off the hook forever.
Someone was playing ukulele on the beach below, the gentle melody drifting up through the afternoon air.
The lunch rush had ended, and only a few customers remained, most choosing to sit outside to enjoy the perfect June weather. Meg wiped down the last indoor table, her attention caught by laughter rising from the far corner of the deck.
Natalie Rodriguez and Paige Campbell—their high school yearbook photos suddenly vivid in Meg’s memory—were seated at a table with Luke, animated in conversation.
Meg hadn’t seen either woman since returning to Laguna, though she’d heard they were still local.
Natalie taught English at the high school while Paige ran a successful event planning business in town.
Once, they’d been Meg’s closest friends.
From her vantage point inside, Meg could observe without being noticed.
The three of them looked so comfortable together—Natalie gesturing expressively while telling a story, Paige doubled over in laughter, Luke leaning back in his chair with an easy smile.
There was a shorthand to their interaction, the unspoken understanding that came from years of shared experiences.
Meg felt a sudden, sharp ache that surprised her with its intensity.
These had been her people once. She’d helped Natalie practice for drama auditions, spent countless nights planning Paige’s elaborate theme parties, shared secrets and dreams and teenage heartbreaks.
When had she last spoken to either of them?
Had she even sent congratulations when she saw on social media that Natalie had gotten married?
She watched as Luke said something that made both women laugh again. How easily he fit into this place, these relationships. No awkward reintroductions needed, no years of absence to explain away, no carefully maintained distance.
“Meg?” Margo appeared beside her, following her gaze to the deck. “Oh, Natalie and Paige came by. They’ve been asking about you.”
“Have they?” Meg continued wiping the already clean table, suddenly unsure of herself in a way she rarely felt in San Francisco boardrooms.
“Of course. You should go say hello.”
Meg hesitated. What would she even say? Sorry I’ve been gone so long and gradually stopped returning your calls and messages? Sorry I didn’t make time for your wedding? Sorry I built a life that had no space for the people who once knew me best?
“Maybe later,” she said. “I still have some closing procedures to finish.”
Margo gave her a look that suggested she wasn’t fooled, but didn’t push further. “They come for lunch most weeks. Just so you know.”
After her grandmother walked away, Meg busied herself with tasks that could have easily waited—reorganizing menus, refilling salt shakers, anything to avoid stepping onto that deck where her past and present might collide in ways she wasn’t prepared to manage .
Through the window, she saw Luke glance in her direction, a question in his expression. She quickly turned away, retreating to the back office where invoices and client emails offered convenient distractions.
It wasn’t until nearly closing time that the back door opened and Luke appeared, leaning against the doorframe.
“Your friends missed you,” he said without preamble.
Meg looked up from the paperwork she’d been organizing. “I was busy.”
“Uh-huh.” Luke’s tone made it clear he wasn’t buying it. “Natalie asked if you were avoiding them on purpose.”
“I wasn’t—“ Meg began, then stopped herself. The lie felt hollow even as she formed it. “I just didn’t know what to say.”
“’Hello’ usually works.” Luke entered the office fully now, settling into the chair across from her. “Maybe followed by ‘how have you been?’”
Meg set down her pen with a sigh. “It’s been years, Luke.”
“And?”
“And people change. Lives change. We’re not the same people we were in high school.”
“True,” Luke acknowledged. “Natalie’s an award-winning teacher now. Paige just expanded her business to Newport. They’re both doing great things. But that doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten who you are. ”
The gentle challenge in his voice made Meg uncomfortable. “I doubt they’d want to reconnect with someone who basically ghosted them.”
“Funny, because they specifically asked when you’d be free to get together.” Luke tilted his head slightly. “Almost like they still care about you despite everything.”
Meg looked back down at her paperwork, unable to meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t know what to talk about.”
“You might be surprised.” Luke’s voice softened. “Natalie’s oldest kid is obsessed with marketing. They make their own commercials on TikTok. And Paige’s event planning company is looking to expand their corporate clients.”
He knew more about her childhood friends’ current lives than she did.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, a non-commitment that had served her well in countless business negotiations.
Luke studied her for a moment longer than was comfortable. “You know what I’ve always wondered? Whether you left Laguna because you wanted what was out there... or because you were running from what was here.”
The words hit something deep in her chest. Meg stared at him, feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with work or family obligations.
“Maybe both,” she said quietly. “But I think I’m tired of running. ”
Something shifted in Luke’s expression—a recognition, perhaps, or approval. “That sounds like progress.”
“Does it?” Meg asked, surprised by her own uncertainty. “Because mostly it just feels scary.”
“The best changes usually do,” Luke said gently, then stood. “I should let you finish up.”
After he left, Meg sat in the quiet office, his words echoing in her mind.
She thought about high school—not the academic achievements or college preparations that had consumed her focus, but the smaller moments.
Late-night phone calls with Natalie about everything and nothing.
Paige’s elaborate plans for group costumes that never quite worked out the way she’d envisioned.
The way they’d all known each other’s coffee orders and family dramas and secret fears.
When had she stopped believing that kind of friendship was worth maintaining?
Meg reached for her laptop, then stopped. Instead, she pulled out her phone and opened social media, typing “Natalie Rodriguez” into the search bar.
Natalie’s profile appeared—public, filled with photos of classroom activities, family outings, community events. Meg scrolled slowly, absorbing glimpses of a life she’d once been part of. Natalie looked happy, fulfilled in a way that radiated from every photo.
There, in a post, a wedding photo that made Meg’s chest tighten: Natalie in a simple white dress, surrounded by friends.
Paige was there as a bridesmaid, beaming with joy.
Even Luke stood in the background, raising a glass in toast. Everyone who’d mattered in their teenage years had been there. Everyone except her.
How many important moments had she missed while building her careful, controlled life in San Francisco?
Meg stared at the photo for a long moment, then switched to her text messages. Luke had mentioned they’d asked about getting together. All she had to do was reach out.
Her fingers hovered over the screen. What if they were just being polite? What if all these years were too much distance to bridge?
Before she could overthink it further, Meg typed a message:
Hi Natalie, it’s Meg. I’m sorry I missed you today at the shack. Would you and Paige be free for coffee sometime this week? I’d love to catch up.
She hit send before she could lose her nerve.
The reply came almost instantly:
Meg!! We were hoping you’d reach out! Saturday morning at Coastal Brew? Paige is already planning to interrogate you about your fancy city life.
The warmth of the message undid her completely. She didn’t deserve this easy forgiveness, this immediate acceptance. But maybe forgiveness didn’t need to be earned. Maybe some friendships were strong enough to survive years of neglect and still bloom again when given the chance.
Meg set her phone on the windowsill, watching the waves roll in with slow persistence. For the first time since returning to Laguna, she felt like she might be building something rather than just managing crises.
Saturday morning couldn’t come soon enough.