Page 11 of Return to Cheshire Bay

“Yes.”

Hetipped his head to the side and stared at me hard, a look of recognition blooming as itclicked. “Wait a sec, you’re Lily Baker. Miss Long Beach 2003. Iused to have the calendar. Oh my god. The guys will go wild whenthey find out.”

Not oneof my finest moments, but I refused to gothere. At least the calendar raised money for alocal charity, so it wasn’t a complete joke.

“Can I helpyou?”

“It’s me,Josh.”

The namedidn’t ring a bell. At all. Even as I tried remembering if I’deverseen his facebefore. The kid looked a few years younger than me.

“JoshMulaney?” His voicedcracked with excitement. “I worked at Scoops.”

“Oh,hi.”The name, swirlingwith weak memories of him and his buddies around a campfire smokingweed floated into my brain, as did the other, more unpleasant ones.The dancing. The kissing. The sex. I shuddered.

His eyes settledon my bump, and suddenly he was all business, which admittedly, wasperfectly okay by me. “I’m here to deliver your fridge and haul theold one away.”

“Finally. Wasn’t that supposed to arrive yesterday?”

Islandtime was a wholedifferent ballgame, but still. I had been expecting this toarrive at least twenty-four hours ago.

Istepped aside.“I’vecleared a path.”

Now itwas time to make myself scarce, and I grabbed an apple to munch on the deck while Joshdid his work.

Whenall wassaid and done, he passed me the work orderandhis card.

“Ifyou’d like to join ourCanada Day Bash, my number is on the back. The guys and I arealways up for a good time.” The wink he gave me made meuncomfortable, and I took a step back.

Iwaved the card. “Well,thank you.”

He tipped hishat and headed back outside.

I closedand locked thedoor,gagging at the thought of being thirty and slutty. My past was inthe past. Who I was at fifteen and sixteen was a far cry from who Iam now. Maybe coming to the beach house was a bad idea.

Hourslater, after verifying my new fridge was coolingproperly, I went to thegrocery store just off the strip and selected a wide variety ofperishables and dairy products, while simultaneously trying toignore the whispers, most of which came from people I didn’trecognise. Why hadn’t I physically changed as much as everyone elsehad? At the bare minimum, I should’ve dyed my hair to a dark browninstead of leaving it the sun-kissed blonde it had alwaysbeen.

Every aisle,there was another snide remark.

I told you shewas back.

Wonder what’s she doinghere, thought we made it clear she wasn’twelcome.

Tramp.

Look at her, all knocked up. Getting what she deserves.Heard herhusband left her. What trash.

Iignored them or at leastdidn’t give them any indication I’d been privy to their comments,even if some of it was inaccurate. He was my ex-boyfriend, not myex-husband, but in the grand scheme of things, I was still on myown.

I set mygroceries by the cashier, who looked at me as if I’d just sprouted two horns andspit all over my items.

“Thoughtitwas you.” There wasso much vitriol in her voice.

Hernametag read Kim, and all I pictured was Jordan’s older sister,butthe ages didn’t seemto match up. That Kim was my age, a goodie-two-shoes like Mona, butthe person before me seemed at least ten years older.

Icontinued to stack my items on one end and raced to the other sideto bag them, since she was piling them up.Rather than make a scene, I loaded thethree bags back into my cart and handed her my creditcard.

“Nocredit. Cash only.” She rolled her eyes and turned her nose up like a putrid smellrolled off me.