I’m about to remind myself that I’m staring, and that he definitely knows it, when I hear my name being called.
A shudder runs through me. I don’t even have to look to know.
In fact, I make a point of not looking until Harrison nudges me with his elbow.
“I believe this man knows you,” he says.
I sigh quietly and turn to see Joey standing by the cash, a coffee and a pastry bag in his hand. Joey is smiling at me expectantly, in that way of his, as if I’m just some buddy he happened to run into and not his ex-fiancée.
“Hey,” I say to Joey, giving him a polite smile and nod, the bare minimum. I don’t want to get into a conversation with him, especially with Harrison here. In fact, I lean in a little closer to Harrison, hoping that Joey will assume we’re together or something and just leave.
Alas, he does not. He leans against the coffee table across from the cash, much to the annoyed detriment of the woman sitting there and reading a guidebook, and gives me the once-over.
“You’re looking good, Pipes.”
I cringe. So many things to unpack here. First of all, he called me Pipes, which was his nickname for me, something no one else called me (for good reason, because it’s stupid); second of all, the way he’s looking at me and the way he dropped that compliment makes it obvious that no one thinks Harrison and I are together, let alone him, and somehow that stings.
“Thanks,” I say stiffly, just as the person in front of us finishes their order and then I’m up next at the cash.
My relief is short-lived. I open my mouth to put in my order, hoping that by putting all my attention on the barista, Joey will leave.
But instead, the barista is Amy Mischky. She’s the sullen, gossipy, twentysomething daughter of Barbara Mischky, who is famous for her letters to the editor that somehow always get printed in our newspaper, often in the vain of “But who will think of the children?” And if I, a teacher of the children, think she’s a pearl-clutching charlatan, then that tells you all you need to know. In short, both Mischkys love to know your business, spread it around, and slander you with it.
“Oh my god,” Amy says in her low, dry voice. “This is soooo awkward.”
My brows go up. “What?”
She looks over at Joey and then back at me, her small lips quirking into a smirk. “I haven’t seen the two of you together since you left him at the altar.”
My cheeks burn again, and I feel Harrison stiffen next to me, no doubt shocked by this. Or maybe not.
“Oh, that was ages ago,” Joey speaks up, walking over so he’s right beside me, now leaning against the counter. “Let bygones be going on.”
“You mean let bygones be bygones?” I say.
He chuckles like an idiot. “And that’s why you’re the teacher.” Then his gaze goes over my head to Harrison. “What’s up, man? You new here?”
It takes Harrison a moment to reply. “Just visiting.” Those two words sound crisp and authoritative coming from him.
Joey seems to pick up on it. He nods. “Well, cool. Hope you like the island. Tell Piper to take you to the Blowhole. Next Friday should be good.” He looks at me. “You’ll come, won’t you, Piper? You always said you loved the band—well, the band is better than ever. Tell you what, I’ll give you a free drink ticket. On the house.”
“Oooh, well, well, well,” Amy says, her eyes darting between us with a look of wry contempt on her face. “The two of you seem to be on the mend. You know, I would have thought you’d stay enemies until the end of time. Or at least until you decided to pack up and leave, Piper.”
I blink at her. Pack up and leave? She thought I’d pack up and leave?
“But,” she continues smoothly, her eyes twinkling at Joey, “guess that’s not the case. How nice. It’s good to have a real sense of community here, isn’t it? I mean, just because you left him at the altar like that and ran away doesn’t mean you’ll continue to run away from all your problems.”
I hate that she’s said that, because her words are making me want to turn on my heel and run. In fact, as my gaze drops away from her triumphant one, I feel my body starting to turn.
Except Harrison steps closer to me, his body blocking me.
“Is this how business on this island is usually run, with a side of gossip?” Harrison asks Amy. His voice is so stern and commanding that she blinks up at him, her mouth dropping a little. “Shouldn’t you be taking our order?”
Flustered, Amy hastily tucks a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear and looks down at the cash, avoiding Harrison’s gaze. “Yes, of course. What will you have?”