Page 17 of The Havenport Collection

Cecelia

“ A re you fucking kidding me?”

Nora was flopped on my bed, clutching my Cabbage Patch dolls with her feet in the air.

I had a weird déjà vu back to high school where we spent tons of time lying on my bed listening to Justin Timberlake and talking about boys.

It was Friday night, and the taproom was reopening tomorrow.

The brewing staff spent the day bottling, so I had an unexpected evening off to spend with my bestie.

“Nope. Not kidding,” I said as I held my hand out. She handed me another Red Vine and paused.

“So…he grabbed you and kissed you senseless, thrust his giant cock at you, and then just up and ran away?” Nora sat up quickly, sending a tidal wave of dark hair into my face. I pushed her back on the pillows.

“Pretty much,” I confirmed, chewing on my Red Vine.

“That is some fuckboy shit.” She paused and took another bite. “What a prick.”

“Don’t be like that, Nora. It was a weird night.

” I still hadn’t figured out how I felt about it.

It was the hottest kiss of my life. But he was my boss.

And he walked away from me without saying another word.

Was it bad for him? I had been under the impression for a number of years now that I was competent in the kissing department. It was a blow to my ego.

Nora vigorously shook her head. “Nope. He had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make out with Cecelia Goddamn Leary. And he ran away and hasn’t said a word since.” She shook her Red Vine in my face. “Fuckboy.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s really not. But I admire your positive attitude. We shouldn’t have expected better. He’s a Quinn. Those Quinn brothers are hot as sin but terrible at relationships.”

“Regardless, it is def not happening again.” I downed the last of my wine from the Havenport Annual Summer Festival 2003 mug I was drinking out of.

My mother owned plenty of wine glasses, but Nora and I used to sneak white wine and drink it out of coffee mugs in high school, so even as adults, we insisted on continuing our tradition.

Nora leaned over to my nightstand and grabbed the bottle to refill me. “Do you want it to happen again?”

“No. I mean yes. No, really no.”

“Wow, you are really selling this, kid.”

I took a big sip of my wine. “Well, he’s undeniably hot and smart and fun to hang out with. I like him as a person, and when he kissed me I felt things. Things I’m not sure I’ve felt before. It was unsettling.”

“But also unbelievably hot?”

“Oh yeah. Crazy hot. Brain-meltingly hot. I was ready to rip off my panties right there. And you know I’m not that type of girl.”

“Yes, dear. We know you are super vanilla and boring.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “But anyway. He is clearly not into me.”

Nora smiled at me and nodded into her wine mug like she was not buying anything I was selling right now. “You know,” she said cautiously, “he doesn’t have the best reputation. He has dated a few people that I know, friends of friends and that sort of thing.”

“What do you mean?” It came out a bit harsher than I was intending, but I felt strangely protective of Liam.

“Nothing bad. Just that he’s not a relationship type of guy. Really focused on work, doesn’t make much time for other stuff. I’ve never heard anyone say anything bad about him, but just that he’s not settling down material.”

“Well, that’s good news for me. Because I have no intention of settling down, and at least I know he won’t get the wrong idea.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You aren’t exactly the hit it and quit it type, Cece.”

I sighed. “I appreciate your concern, Nora, but I don’t know what ‘type’ I am anymore.

I came here to work some stuff out and get out of New York.

I am not interested in dating. I am off men.

I need to focus on myself. And that’s fine.

I like this job. I have a mission to complete.

I am going to market the shit out of this brewery for the next few months and then move on to something else. ”

It was the truth. I was learning a lot and having a blast. “I like a challenge. It’s nice not working nine to five behind a desk every damn day.”

“A-women, sister. I hear you on that front.” She raised her mug. “And I respect the hell out of what you are doing. And clearly Liam does too. Which is probably why he doesn’t want to make a move and compromise that.”

“Maybe. But the reasons don’t really matter, do they? Nothing can happen. I don’t want to be in a relationship. And I don’t want to compromise my new job by hooking up with the boss.”

“True.”

“And I’m going to leave town anyway. I have to go back to New York in January and restart my life. There is no way my next chapter is starting in Havenport.”

“You say that. But maybe the next chapter has already started?”

Her comment unsettled me. I decided to push the feeling away and deal with it later. “Oh, stop philosophizing and focus on Channing Tatum.” I grabbed the remote and clicked play on the tiny twenty-year-old TV.

We were rewatching one of our high school favorites, She’s the Man , which was the genesis of our Channing Tatum obsession.

After about twenty minutes of drinking and enjoying Channing playing soccer shirtless, Nora turned to me.

“So tell me about his dick.”

I playfully hit her shoulder. “Gross, Nora. No!”

“So it was gross? Such a shame.”

“No.” I was exasperated and did not want to continue this conversation. “I didn’t see it or anything. I just briefly felt it and it felt good.”

“Like long and strong good?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

I laughed. “Yeah. Really long and really strong if you know what I mean.”

“I’ll toast to that.” And we clinked mugs.

“So that’s it. You are really going to do nothing about this?”

“Yup. I am going to stay focused and not get hung up on this. I am new Cecelia.” And it was true.

For once, I was not obsessing or planning or trying to find the safest option.

I had decided to enjoy my life day by day and try new things.

Making out with my hot boss was a new adventure, and I wasn’t going to dwell on it or feel bad about it.

“Well, I like the new Cece.”

“Thank you. So what’s happening with you?” I said, trying to pivot the conversation in another direction.

“Not much. Work, work, work. I am building up the Jeanious Bar website and trying to diversify.” One of my favorite things about Nora is how fired up she gets about her business and helping women feel good.

I sometimes feel a bit jealous about how passionate she is about her career.

“I get messages on Insta all the time from women who want the JB experience, but are all over the country and the world. I have a website, but it’s not set up for this kind of e-commerce. ”

“But the magic of your store is you, Nora. How do you replicate that online?”

“Well, thanks, darling. But part of the magic is the diversity of styles, sizes, and prices, and that can be done online. But to actually make it work, we need to find a way to build in some kind of system that helps the buyer navigate all the sizes and styles and cuts to find what is uniquely right for them. So I am looking to hire some tech people to help me out. But their help does not come cheaply, so I’ve been holding back a bit. ”

“I think you should go for it. If there is some tech genius out there who can create a robot Nora to find people their best jeans just by looking at them, then that is something the world needs.”

Nora shrieked. “That would be amazing! Robot Nora would be super helpful for many things.” She sighed. “But anyway, it’s hard for a brick and mortar store to survive. I’ve got to diversify and find new ways of promoting and marketing.”

“I get that. But I think what makes JB so unique is you. Your social media feed markets the store and your products, but shouldn’t you be marketing yourself and your expertise?”

“That sounds great, but how do I practically do that?”

“Well, I’ve been telling you for years that you need to post more social media content about yourself.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “I know, I know.”

“Seriously. You want people to trust you to help them find the best clothes for their bodies? If you show them how totally gorgeous you look every day, that will build your credibility.”

“Wow. I never thought about it that way.”

“And, in addition to showcasing stuff like that, you could also explain why different fits, cuts, and fabrics can help or hurt certain body types. Use yourself as a guinea pig for new styles and people will respect the authenticity.”

“Yes! You are a marketing genius. The thought of posting photos of my fat ass on the Internet scares me, but everything else you’ve said is amazing.”

I smiled. It was fun helping Nora. It was the least I could do given how many free pairs of jeans she had given me over the years.

“Do you want a new client?” she asked with a grin. “I would love to hire you to help with the transition to the web and figuring out how to bring JB to more people.”

She looked so excited I didn’t want to let her down. “Thank you. But that’s not really what I do.”

“But it could be what you do. I see what you are trying to do with the brewery and it’s great. You are a marketing guru, sweetie. Give yourself some more credit.”

Nora was so kind and enthusiastic. My head was spinning with ideas for her.

What Nora did, making women feel confident and beautiful, was the opposite of what most clothing stores did.

Her brand of inclusiveness and diversity with a playful attitude would kill online if properly marketed.

Part of me wanted to say yes and help her, but the other part knew that I wasn’t qualified.

And more importantly, that’s not the kind of future I was looking for.

I don’t want to freelance or build my own practice.

I just want a stable, secure career. And as exciting as taking on these types of opportunities felt, it wasn’t a solid long-term plan.

I smiled at my friend. “I’m just helping out at the brewery, and you don’t want me. I’m sure we can find you a professional brand consultant or marketer who will do a way better job.”

Nora’s face fell. “For the record, I think you’re full of shit. But I am not going to push you.”

“Thanks.”

“But I think you should also just be honest with me and admit you only do marketing favors for hot guys with big dicks.” She swung a pillow at me and hit me in the side of the head.

“Shut up,” I yelled back and scrambled to find another throw pillow.