Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
EPILOGUE
“Having begun to love you, I love you forever.” ―Thomas Hardy, Tess of the d’Urbervilles
* * *
Luca
A buzzer broke the silence in the shop. We were expecting a big shipment this morning. Huge. I had no idea where everything was going to fit, but storage was a temporary problem. As soon as the remodel was complete, there’d be plenty of space for twice the amount of surf gear we currently fit at CaLuca’s Surf Shop.
Okay, the name change was still up for debate. Cal and I couldn’t decide if we wanted to leave it as is or begin our new era with a snazzy logo and title. We went ahead with the logo change and added a small C and L at the bottom of a wave. It was simple yet cool. And it went well with our expansion.
Cal leaned against the door with his hip and heaved an oversized box onto the counter. “The delivery truck has at least ten more of these. What the hell did we order?”
I cut through the tape, flipped the top open, and pulled out a bubble-wrapped package. I grinned as I popped the plastic wrap, unrolling a ceramic mug with surfboards. I held it up for my boyfriend to inspect before turning it upside down, pointing at the engraved heart with our initials on the bottom.
“I couldn’t resist.” I kissed his cheek and handed it to him, adding, “Don’t worry. I only bought a dozen of these. This shipment is part apparel and part surfboard-making crap.”
Cal set the mug aside and snaked his arms around my waist. “Crap? I’m gonna let that slide ’cause I need to tell you I think you’re fucking amazing. I can’t believe you made those.”
“My ceramics days are over, babe. I ordered those.”
“I figured that out, but I still love it. It’s like a hidden treasure in a store full of—”
“Crap?” I supplied, nibbling on his bottom lip.
Cal smacked my ass and squeezed me tighter. “Something like that. What time is the construction crew arriving?”
“Eight a.m.,” I groaned. “Everything happens so damn early when you’re an adult.”
“Ha. I think you’re used to it now.”
I was. When your live-in boyfriend and business partner surfed every day, waking up at the ass crack of dawn was part of the deal.
Rising early was hardly the biggest change in my life over the past nine months. Geez, everything was different. I’d declined the job with the Sharks, much to everyone’s chagrin. I didn’t want to move again. And when I thought it through, it occurred to me that I could put my degree to use by helping Cal get his business up and running. He couldn’t afford to pay me, so I became a part owner instead. And took a position with an accounting firm based in Long Beach.
Perfect solution, right? I used my savings and a small loan from my parents, who drew up a contract to keep things legal. Cal had the flux of money he needed for the down payment and some operating cash, and I had a vested interest in making our shop a success. No, I hadn’t set out to become part owner of a surf shop, but I loved it.
Cal and I moved into a cute bungalow in town last spring when my lease was up on my apartment. Living at the shop during renovations wasn’t a viable option, and it needed a lot of updating. We planned to make the upstairs into an office. And turning Cal’s old room into a storage area would free up space to expand the storefront and give him a larger area to work on custom boards.
We waited to begin the remodel until after the summer rush was over. Smart move on our part. We were three weeks into construction now, and it was a bit dusty. It would be worth it in the long run, though. Cal’s vision was to become the go-to surfboard manufacturer in SoCal and to sponsor talent in local competitions. My goal was to go global. Eventually.
Don’t worry…I still made time for hockey. I couldn’t volunteer anymore, but I joined a rec league and played a couple of times a week. The level of play was nowhere near as physical as my college days, but that was okay. I didn’t have anything to prove. The kid who skated like demons were coming for him knew there was no reason to run, no cause to hide. I knew I was tough. I didn’t need confirmation.
I’d flown to California over a year ago, hoping to find a new purpose and found myself in the process. Best of all, I’d found Cal.
We leaned on each other and we were stronger for it. We were better together. Our friends and family recognized it, too. My folks met him when they came to LA earlier in the year, and they loved him. My mom especially. She teased that he’d called her last year because he’d had a crush on me. It made his ears turn pink, so there might have been some truth to that. My dad was intrigued with surfing, and the corporate lawyer in him was interested in helping us with the legalities involved in setting up our new enterprise.