Page 12 of Bonfire and Bliss Bookstore

“Look at it this way, things can’t possibly get any worse.”

Oh, sweet Billie. Things can always get worse. Especially when you’re me.

Hope Harbor Happy Chat

Tally: Did you change the NAME of the town chat?

Rosie: What? It makes me happy.

Rayna: I approve. Also, I heard a rumor that Penny was locked in Jake Montgomery’s bedroom. Is this true?

Babs: Definitely true. I heard it with my own ears.

Babs: I also heard that Jake is moving back to Hope Harbor.

Stew: Mr. Mayor!

Fletcher: Ladies, we cannot change the name of the town chat.

Fletcher changed the name from Hope Harbor Happy Chat to Town of Hope Harbor Informational Chat

Penny: I DID NOT BREAK INTO JAKE MONTGOMERY’S BEDROOM

Babs: Okay, don’t get your panties in a wad. We said you were locked in there.

Stew: Mr. Mayor!!!

Fletcher: Ladies!

Babs: Just make sure you bring that bra tonight that you lost in his room. It will help with the cleanse.

Rosie: Bahahahha

Penny: I hate all of you.

Chapter 5

Monty

If I thought leaving New York, my home for the past ten years, would have been the most memorable thing about today, I was wrong.

Because it’s freckled ivory skin. Pink nipples. Peach lips. Copper as if it’s been set on fire, vibrant and angry.

Fuck, Penelope Darling is more beautiful than I remembered.

I cough out an incredulous laugh as I stare out at the harbor, a beer in hand, and picture Penny as she ran out of this house an hour ago, jumping into a car as if she were Thelma on the run.

While I know she was embarrassed—not that she had reason to be because, God, I’ll be replaying the way she looked for a long fucking time—I wish she hadn’t run. I’ve missed Penny.

When I visited town briefly in the spring, I was surprised by how my heart lit up the second I saw her. With most people, I spent a few minutes catching up, conversation powered by nostalgia, but then we ran out of things to talk about. A decade apart does that to people; shared memories only carry you so far. But that wasn’t the case with Penny. It was like our friendship picked right back up where we left off. And months later, the texts, the easy banter, her—well, she’s become the best part of my day.

“Dinner’s ready,” my father calls from the porch, snapping me out of my Penny-fueled reverie.

Inside, I help Vovo carry platters into the dining room, which has been set for a formal sit-down meal. My eyes immediately stray to the chair my mother used to occupy. And then to my grandfather’s.

“I miss him, too,” Vovo says from beside me, her thick accent stronger with emotion.

I wrap an arm around her and press a kiss to the top of her head.