The Highland Fling(96)
I haven’t heard anything from Rowan or Dakota, and it’s slowly eating away at me. My only hope is that they show up today and let me apologize profusely in person, which will lead to us hugging it out and everything going back to normal.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I quickly pull it out to see the alarm I set for myself. Opening day.
With one more deep breath, I go to the front door, reach out my shaky hand, and open it. Expecting to see a few smiling faces, I put on a smile myself and step outside, where I’m greeted by . . . no one.
My smile fades, and my heart sinks. I glance around and look down the street, off toward the Hairy Coo Footpath, but . . . nothing. Not one soul.
Not one friend.
Not one boyfriend.
Absolutely no one.
Trying not to get upset—I just opened, after all—I place the OPEN flag in its holster, prop the door open completely, and then step back into the coffee shop, where I try to busy myself.
I move around the counter, straightening mugs for the tenth time this morning. Then I check to make sure everything is stocked up, confirm that there are plenty of butteries, scones, and cake in the pastry case. I tuck in the napkins to be sure they’re not crooked. All set, just like it was a half hour ago.
Tables are clean.
Vases have fresh flowers.
Drinks are ready to be made.
There’s nothing else I can do.
I glance down at my phone. Ten thirty.
My heart sinks.
I can’t believe that not one person has shown up. But, most importantly, I can’t believe Rowan and Dakota aren’t here. Did I hurt them so badly that they won’t be here for me? Are they so angry they refuse to come support me?
Dakota and I have fought before, but never at this level. She knows how hard I’ve been working. She knows how important this is to me. Is she really not going to show up?
Feeling distraught, I sit down in the chair behind the counter and bounce my legs up and down.
Please don’t fail.
Please don’t fail.
I’m not sure what will happen to my self-esteem if this doesn’t work out, if I once again fail to pull it together to make something of myself. To make something of my life.
Time passes.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
An hour.
And no one.
Not one tour bus. Not one customer.
I sink deeper and deeper into my chair, tears streaking down my cheeks, depression starting to sink in.
When the clock hits one in the afternoon, I crumble to the floor and lean against the wall, my heart shattering into a million pieces.
Not a single soul has come to the shop.
No texts.
No phone calls.
I’m not sure what hurts more—that Rowan and Dakota never showed up, or that I’ve failed. I pick at a piece of lint on my leggings as I consider it. There is no doubt in my mind which one hurts more.
Dakota and Rowan.
“Hello?” a voice calls out.
Shit.
I wipe at my face and stand from the floor as Leith walks up to the counter. “Hell, I’m sorry it took me so long to come in.” He thumbs toward the door. “A tour bus got stuck in a ditch just outside of town, and we all went out to help.”
“We?” I ask, just as Lachlan comes through the door, huffing.
“Are there butteries left?” he asks in a panic.
“Och, Fergus, out of the way,” Shona says as she steps into the coffee house, followed closely by Hamish, Alasdair, and . . . Isla.
“There’s still butteries!” Leith shouts down the line.
The little line cheers, and—God help me—I start bawling like a baby.
The community has shown up for me. At least there are some people out there who appreciate the hard work I’ve put in.
“Lass, you okay?” Leith asks.
I nod and wipe at my eyes. “Yes, sorry.” I take a deep breath. “Just . . . no one came in, and I just thought . . .”
“Aye, we’ve been legs deep in mud all morning. There was a landslide just outside of town, and a tour bus got stuck. All the other tour buses had to divert for the day, but we’re all cleaned up now, and the road is good to go. Trust me, I would have been here sooner after yesterday’s buttery.” He pats his stomach. “We might be personal trainers, but we don’t mind a little buttery on the bones.”
He winks as Lachlan slings an arm around his neck. “And butteries aren’t the only things we’ll shred.”
“Well, thank you,” I say, smiling through tears. “Would you like a drink too?”
“Tea, please. Earl Grey.” Leith nods to one of the tables. “Gotta grab a table before Shona can.”
“Och, that’s very gentlemanly of you,” Shona calls out.
They all laugh, and so do I as I prepare their orders, which I spend the next few moments filling. Hamish cleaned me out of the tattie scones, said he was going to take them to the locals who helped with the cleanup.
By the time Isla comes to the counter, I have two butteries left and a few slices of cake. She smiles kindly and reaches out to take my hand. “You did a great job, Bonnie.”
“Thank you,” I say, returning a sad smile while the elephant in the room practically chokes all the air out of my lungs. “How’s . . . Dakota?”
Isla’s brow creases. “What do you mean, ‘How’s Dakota?’ I thought she was with you.”