charming beaches make an ideal backdrop for a leisurely late-night nosh.) Chef Michelle McAdams, formerly of the well-regarded White Rhino in nearby Bayshore, hits you over the head with organic lamb, locally foraged chanterelles, fennel, and mixed herbs in a perfectly flaky double crust. Thoughts of revenge evaporate with the first divine bite.’”
Well. He grinned. He would take that.
“We did it!” she said.
“We did.” And they had. They’d won the grant. Law had gotten the mortgage and bought and renovated Jason’s place. Lawson’s Lunch had been popular with locals the moment it opened, and it had been at capacity nearly every day this summer. The theater was thriving, too. With her take from the Much Ado run, Maya had been able to do a massive repair and refresh. They even had plans in the works to close off half the balcony and build a second, cabaret-style venue that would house stand-up comedy, concerts, and smaller-scale plays—and have an integrated bar serving drinks and snacks. “But we already knew that. We didn’t need the Globe and Mail to tell us that.”
“Still,” she said, “it’s nice to have, isn’t it?”
“I guess so, but you know what’s even nicer?”
“What?”
“You naked in my bed.”
“It’s not your bed anymore, it’s our bed,” she shot back, and he smiled. One of the best things about his permanent cease-fire with Maya was that she still sassed him whenever the opportunity presented itself.
“You naked in our bed,” he corrected smoothly, taking his shirt off and crawling toward her.
She put her shirt on.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” He tried to grab her as she hopped off her side of the bed, but she evaded him.
“Who dropped that paper off?” she asked. “Who has keys? Jake and Brie?”
“Who even knows at this point?”
“I have to find the girls.”
He followed the familiar strains of the Spice Girls into the bathroom. Maya, he had learned, started each day with a shower and the Spice Girls—she played the music on her phone that she left on the bathroom counter. He eyed the lineup of fortune cookie fortunes taped to the mirror. She kept her fortunes, it turned out, and he had added his about deeds-and-not-weeds to her collection.
“What are you doing?” she squealed when he pulled the shower curtain back and got in with her. “I gotta find the girls and show them that review.”
“You’ll see the girls tonight.” Would she ever. She would see everyone tonight. She just didn’t know it yet.
“Yeah, but I want to tell them…Oh.” She let her head fall back against his chest as he hugged her from behind.
He ground himself against her shamelessly. “I think the girls can wait, can’t they?”
“You’re right.”
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
She turned in his arms. “Oh, shut up.”
Maya was giddy as she arrived at the bar for the opening-night cast party. The scene was familiar. Comforting. Ben looked up—right at her—as she paused in the doorway, taking everything in. He saw her before anyone else did, and he winked.
Everyone else caught on as she let the door shut behind her, and a cheer erupted from the crowd. She made her way slowly to the bar, stopping to hug Ben’s parents, then her own, who were at a table with all the old folks—as Maya had predicted, her dad had segued right into being a professional meddler when he retired.
Eventually she reached the bar, where her friends were. The girl gang had expanded to include Brie and Michelle, the maker of the magical meat pies.
Brie was behind the bar, as was Ben, who was at the other end, closer to Sawyer and Jake. Jake wore nine-month-old Penny, who was fast asleep, in a sling. Amusingly, Maya and her friends had started mimicking the bromance habit of hanging out together with the bartender, except now they had their own bartender.
Maya took off her Tamora headpiece and set it on the bar. “This thing is heavy.” She’d been running late after the show, so she hadn’t bothered changing out of her queen of the Goths costume, though maybe she should have. The leather armor was making her hot.
“Hi!” Eve said. “We thought you were never going to get here!” The other girls lobbed enthusiastic greetings and congratulations at her—except Michelle, who hadn’t noticed her arrival because she was bent over the bar looking intently at something with Rohan.
Rohan, who, it turned out, did want A Rose by Any Other Name. Kind of. He’d kept their dad’s shop, but he’d also purchased an old barn