Page 8 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)

Josie

Eileen Martin snaps a photo of the glass bakery case at the front, and I straighten the mason jars filled with flowers on the tables with a million watts of nervous energy.

For the last three months, I’ve poured my every waking moment and even more dollars into building the coffee shop I’ve always dreamed of. It’s been both a labor of love and just plain old labor, and opening it today seems like the conclusion of a journey that was years in the making.

I spent many hours and days and weeks and months and years sketching designs and dreaming up drinks, and to say that it’s actually happening now feels surreal. Grandma Rose would be so proud to see me making it come to fruition, even if it means I’m twenty grand in debt and scared to death.

But I did it. At twenty-eight years old, I’m officially a proud Red Bridge business owner of a brand-new coffee shop named CAFFEINE.

Sheriff Peeler pokes his head in the door and smiles, and I straighten my deep green apron down my hips. “Hey, Josie. You about ready to do the ribbon ceremony? Crowd’s started to crow and holler out here about needing some caffeine.”

He smirks at his little pun, having used the name of my shop playfully.

I smile, take one last look around at the brick walls, wood beams, and my very first barista and close friend from the diner Todd behind the counter, and nod. “Yep. I think CAFFEINE is officially ready to open.”

“Well, all right then. I’ll tell ’em to get the ribbon ready,” Pete replies, knocking once on the wood frame of the door before stepping back into the group of townspeople who’ve gathered outside.

I look around for a brief moment to find someone to share my excitement, and it’s only then that I feel the ever-present pit in my stomach—there isn’t anyone.

Not my dad or my grandma or either of my sisters…and not Clay either.

The last one is my fault and, nearly four months since making it so, still for the best. But it doesn’t make the pain feel any better.

I put a splayed hand on the surface of my stomach and take a deep breath.

“This is good, Josie,” I say to myself, my voice so quiet I can hardly even hear it.

“You’re doing the things you always talked about and moving on with your life.

” I feel the dull ache of my always-present emptiness, and I hate that even now, in the midst of making one of my biggest dreams come true, memories of the bright, piercing, terrifying light when I was in that room all by myself threaten to take over my thoughts.

I swallow hard against the painful onslaught and tell myself it doesn’t get any worse than that.

This is the dream. This is happy. This is not that. “You’re—”

“Josie?” Sheriff Peeler says, startling me, his head poking through the open door again. “You ready? You’re about to have a riot out here.”

“Yeah,” I answer, and I have to clear the discomfort from my throat. “Of course. Let’s do it.”

Pete smiles again and backs out the door, and this time, I follow him.

I see tons of familiar faces in a sweet little crowd and a beautiful pink ribbon out in front of the store.

Fran and Peggy, two of the other small business owners in town, hold each end, and Eileen bends down at the edge of the sidewalk to get the best angle for the camera shot.

I make a point to smile at faces I know—Harold and Felix and Pete and Melba and even Betty Bagley—as I make my little speech.

“I just want to thank all of you for being here for me on this really special day. Opening this coffee shop has always been a dream of mine, and putting it into action has been my whole life for the last few months. I hope you’ll stop by each morning to see me, and that it’ll be the kind of start to your day that puts a smile on your face. ”

“We love you, honey!” Melba claps, and I shrug a little self-consciously.

“So, yeah…” I look around the crowd, not sure who I’m even looking for, “I guess it’s time to cut the ribbon!”

Todd taps me on the shoulder to hand me a pair of scissors, and I snip the cute little strip dramatically. Instantly, tears hit my eyes, and everyone breaks into applause this time.

Summer’s toddler cheer is especially loud, almost like the shriek of a giant bird, and my gaze snaps to the back of the crowd at the sound. She waves, the tiny pink cast on her right arm sending me straight into a pool of emotion I’m not ready for at all.

I’ve missed her so much over the last few months and thought of her often, but it hasn’t felt quite right to keep myself inserted in Bennett’s life when he’s so close with Clay. Losing him means losing everything.

Bennett stands behind Summer’s stroller, and I don’t miss Clay’s presence beside him or the fact that his mouth is set in a firm but handsome line.

I have to look away from the three of them before I start crying right here in front of everyone.

I’m not surprised he’s here—he’s on the Red Bridge city council committee that does all of these small business ribbon-cutting ceremonies—but I am surprised he’s hung around this long.

Instead, I focus on welcoming the first customers into the store and rounding the counter to get to work. I have drinks to make and people to serve, and living in the past isn’t going to do anyone even one ounce of good.

We can’t go back. The finality of the papers I handed him in Grandma Rose’s kitchen four months ago made that reality.

I smile at Melba as she approaches the counter, her eyes glowing with a special sheen of tears I know is for my grandma. She clutches her chest, and I reach out to grab her wrist.

“Don’t,” I say softly, not wanting yet another reason to cry.

“She’d just be so proud of you, is all.”

I nod. She would be. Grandma Rose was my best friend and my biggest supporter, and having to live without her for the last almost seven months is a crime I’ll never forgive the universe for committing.

“All right, then. Enough of that.” She waves one hand in the air. “What can I try that’s not coffee? My stomach doesn’t handle it too well, and I don’t wanna have to make a doo-doo in the square.”

Her commentary is a relief that leaves my body in the form of shocked laughter. “Melba!”

“Just wait, dear,” she says with a shameless shrug of her petite shoulders. “Not even your bowel movements are reliable when you get to be my age.”

“How about one of our specialty lemonades?” I suggest, moving the conversation along to something that doesn’t revolve around Melba’s intestines. “They’re homemade and perfect for a warmer day like today.”

I point up to the menu behind me, and Melba pulls her reading glasses out of her purse, sets them on the bridge of her nose, and scans through the options before settling on one. “I think I’m going to try the Pink Flamingo.”

“That’s a good one.” I smile. “Strawberry and cherry lemonade topped with a little lemon sweet cream cold foam.”

Melba knocks her knuckles on the counter. “Yep. I like the sound of it.”

“Pink Flamingo!” I yell out to Todd behind me, ringing the very first purchase into my cash register. “That’ll be $5.75.”

Melba rummages around in her change purse, dumping four dollars’ worth of quarters and two dollars’ worth of nickels and dimes on the counter, and each coin clinks against the wood musically.

The woman is known for her change, and I don’t mind counting it all out for her.

Though, when I start to hand her a quarter back, she shakes her head. “No, no, dear. You keep it as a tip.”

It’s so sweet, but also…so cheap. Right in line with what I know of my grandma’s dear friend Melba, and the thought warms my body from my heart to my lips to my eyes. Some things, I suppose, stay the same even in the wake of a whirlwind of change.

Maybe one day, it won’t feel this hard at all. Maybe one day, I’ll feel whole again.