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“Find my boombox. Great.” Skepticism laced my tone. The notion was foreign to me, but as much as I wanted to reject the cliché, a sliver of hope threaded through my anger. A hope that maybe there was something to this grand gesture business.
“Look,” Luke continued, catching the shift in my demeanor. “You’re a smart guy, Aiden. And you know Stella better than anyone. You can figure out your own version of a grand gesture. Something… oceanic, maybe?”
“Oceanic,” I repeated, the word rolling off my tongue and into the air, where it hung like a promise. The sea had always been my sanctuary and our shared passion. Could it be the key? Then my scowl returned. “This is impossible. And ridiculous. And unnecessary, I might add.”
He leaned close to me. “You are totally full of shit.”
“What? That’s a bit harsh.” I narrowed my eyes at him, but he just wiped out another pint glass with a practiced swirl.
“Never argue with a bartender on matters of the heart, Aiden.” His tone was light but not without wisdom. “Especially when it comes to first loves. They stick to you like barnacles. Stella was yours and vice-versa. Lots of baggage there.”
I slumped on my stool, the worn leather creaking in sympathy. “Yeah, I know. But Stella… it’s like she’s anchored in the past, and no matter how much I pull, she won’t budge.”
Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. “And that’s exactly why you need to do something big. She’s hesitant because you two ended in disaster. You’ve got to prove that this time, things will be different.”
I sighed, the weight of our shared history pressing down on me. How could I convince her that the past wouldn’t repeat itself? That I wasn’t the same stupid, cowardly kid who had broken her heart? My mind cast about for ideas, each one fizzling out before they could take hold.
“Doesn’t have to be like some rom-com airport chase scene,” Luke added, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Thank God for that,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. I took a long swig from my glass as I pondered his words. Stella loved the ocean—it whispered to her soul, despite her comment about my boat. We had reconnected while sailing these waters, and while being immersed in the tranquility of the sea. And she was also a chef…
“Meaningful,” I muttered, mulling over the possibilities. “Maybe something tied to her work? Like new knives or something?”
Luke burst out laughing, bending forward at the waist. “Oh yeah. Great gesture. A weapon for her to use on you.”
I tilted my head back and forth. “Okay, point taken.”
Luke nodded approvingly. “Think about it. You’re not just any guy trying to win back a girl. You’re Aiden Mitchell, the caring doctor who cures patients and navigates storms. Use that.”
“Navigate storms…” I trailed off, picturing Stella’s bright eyes reflecting the sunlit waves, the way her laughter melded with the breeze mussing her hair. But nothing came to me. “Thanks, Luke. Guess I need to dive a little deeper.”
“Ah, there he is.” Luke grinned, proud as if he’d just coached a drowning man to swim. “Go get her, Dr. Love.”
“Dr. Love?” After wincing, I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension ebbing away over a horrible nickname he’d come up with years ago. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Never.” Luke’s smile was as broad as the horizon outside the Conch Republic. “Keep thinking,” he said, just as one of the line cooks lumbered out from the kitchen, his apron stained with the day’s work.
“Hey, Luke.” The man’s voice was tired as he reached for the fountain sprayer to get himself a soft drink. “Just got the word that our regular fisherman’s out sick tomorrow. We’re gonna have to wing it for the fresh catch.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Luke replied, shrugging and unbothered by the news. “There’s no shortage of fishermen around. We’ll manage.”
As the cook shuffled back to the heat and clatter of the kitchen, a spark ignited in my chest. I twirled a coaster on the bar top. A grand gesture… something unexpected…
And then, like a flash of lightning across the murky waters of my mind, it came to me. The idea hit with such force that I gasped aloud, startling Luke.
“What?” he asked, peering at me closely.
Laughing, I tossed the coaster aside. The stool scraped against the wood floor as I stood. “I got it!”
“All right! Let’s hear it.” Luke’s eyes widened and he leaned closer.
“Nope. Not saying.” I grinned, reveling in the sudden clarity. “But the hardware store closes soon. I gotta run.”
“Whatever it is, make sure it counts,” Luke called after me as I hurried toward the exit, a sense of purpose propelling my steps.
“I’ll do my best,” I threw over my shoulder, my grin never fading. Bursting out of the brew pub into the warm evening air, the breeze swept over me, carrying with it a sense of impending hope.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
