Page 78 of Best Laid Plans
Cam could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, the desire for Mr. Pierce’s approval so strong that he felt a little sick. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, if it’s a conversation you’re interested in having.” He was worried that he may freeze up if he stopped, so he kept going. “I think we came up with a plan that makes sense for my future as well as secures yours. Along with The Pierce Lobster Co. legacy. It’s–”
Shock and rejection warred for dominance as Mr. Pierce’s loud, boisterous laugh boomed through the small room.
There was a moment where Cam felt like he’d turned inside out, and he wanted nothing more than to get out of the kitchen as quickly as possible, to turn tail and run back to Boston. Away from the rejection. The feeling like he wasn’t good enough.
But then Elle’s face flashed through his mind, of the hours they’d spent in this very kitchen together, as they’d worked through the logistics of his plan.Theirplan. He owed it to both of them to see this through. “Mr. Pierce, I understand your decision, but I was hoping–”
Mr. Pierce held his hand up. “Cam, if we’re going to be in business together, I’m going to need you to call me Jim. And if I’d have ever thought that you were interested in returning to Rock Harbor and running Pierce’s Lobster Co., I’d have begged you to come back in a heartbeat. Just like all my kids, I felt like it was important to let you live your own life. Chart your own path, if that’s what you wanted. But I hope you know that I’ve always wanted you here. You’re a part of this family. This is your legacy, too.” The moment stretched out between them, as Cam struggled to hold back tears. One finally fell when Mr. Pierce–Jim–added, “I’m proud of the man you’ve become, Cam. But you need to be, too.”
Cam tried to hide his sniffle at the same time he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. He didn’t realize how much he’d needed to hear that. How much it meant the way Jim was looking at him right now, like he was so fucking proud of Cam that he could burst.
And for as much as Cam wanted to lean into that feeling–bask in it, really–he still needed to know one thing. It was positively eating him up inside. “Mr. P–Jim,” he corrected himself quickly, “what is the secret ingredient? If we’re really going to be business partners, that’s all I need on my side to seal the deal.”
Jim laughed, his eyes shifting down to the clam strip that Cam had just drenched in batter. “It’s in the marinade. A few drops of hot sauce. I’ve tried different ones over the years, but Cholula is my favorite.”
Cam couldn’t even revel in his excitement at finally getting an answer because, “You’ve been letting me serve the wrong food for weeks?”
“Sometimes everything we need is right in front of us. We just have to be willing to see it clearly,” Jim said as he looked over toward the storage rack, where at least half-a-dozen bottles of different hot sauces were lined up in a row.
And… yeah. Jim was right on that one, in so many ways. Everything–everyone–that he needed was right in front of him, a future that he could finally see clearly.
He just needed to make Elle see that she was the most important part of it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ELLE
Elle was hungover. Badly. The type of hangover where the existence of the bright, early morning sun was an affront to her, personally. And the only comfort that she could find in the situation was that now instead of feeling awful because of Cam, she felt awful because of too many mixed drinks, whose names had all blurred together after the third round.
At least, after Elle’s third round. Becca, like a true friend, had alternated hard seltzer and water, watching her with sympathetic eyes while Elle had cycled through the stages of grief. Multiple times.
By midnight, Becca had poured her into bed. Elle’s lonely, sad, built-for-one bed.
This morning, she’d woken up in the depression stage, which she hoped meant that acceptance was again just around the corner.
The last time she’d been hungover on a Monday morning… had probably been never. She’d been focusing on academics and tennis since she’d been fourteen. How did people get up and go to work like this?
Elle groaned and rolled over in bed at the same time there was a knock on her bedroom door.
She wiped at her dry eyes. “Come in.”
Her dad opened the door and walked into the room, dressed in his non-Pierce’s clothes. She’d likely have to get used to seeing that look a lot more.
He sat down on the edge of her bed. “Morning, honey. What time did you get in last night?”
She squinted at him. “Midnight?”
“Ahh, to be young again,” he said with a laugh as he patted her comforter-clad foot.
“It’s not funny, Dad.” She hoped that he wasn’t going to bring up Friday at Wyatt’s house, which she was never going to be willing to discuss with her parents.
Her dad had been at the restaurant all weekend, along with her mom on Sunday. It had been a brief respite from the reality of acknowledging what had happened, even if it had given her way too much time to lament about Cam.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to pester you about your love life. I’m sure you’ll talk to me about it when you’re ready.” Elle’s dad had always been able to read her, and thankfully, this morning was no different. He gave her a thoughtful look, his brows drawn together when he spoke again. “You weren’t exactly honest about why you came back to Rock Harbor, honey. That’s what I was hoping that we could talk about.”
Elle’s mouth tasted sour, and she scrunched up her face in response to his words. Right–the whole losing her job and her apartment thing. It felt like forever ago now. “I didn’t want to worry you and Mom.”
He gave her a thoughtful smile. “Seems to be a lot of that going around in our family these days.”
