I turned down the role in exchange for a romantic getaway to Santorini and Mykonos with the love of my life and, back then, didn’t have a single regret. It was only recently that I began to wonder how different my life and career would be if I’d gone to Williamstown that summer.
I pushed the heavy oak doors open and stepped into the intimate theater that looked as though it could seat about 150 people. My ankle was starting to throb from all the walking, so I took a seat in the front row to rest it. I settled into the chair and looked around. Considering the theater’s small size, the light wood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and white-washed walls gave the space an airy, open feel. Having spent the last several years in massive Broadway theaters, there was something nice about the cozy feel of this one.
“Can I help you?” a man asked, coming through the stage’s red curtain.
I sat upright. “I’m sorry, I was wandering through town and saw the theater. The door was open, so I thought it was okay if I came inside and looked around.”
He jogged down the steps of the stage with his hand outstretched. “Totally okay. I’m Gerald Mason, the Resident Artistic Director of the Topsail Little Theater.”
I shook it. “Joanna Kitt. I’m staying at the Retreat House.”
Gerald took the seat next to me. “Nice hotel. My favorite on the island. A lot of our summer audience are guests there.”
“I saw you’re holding auditions for Twelfth Night?”
“We put on two Shakespeare plays in our outdoor theater every summer. This is the last week of Romeo and Juliet, and then we’ll go into rehearsals for Twelfth Night, our end of summer production. We’re calling it our Summer of Love series.”
I scrunched my nose. “Summer of Love series?”
“I know, but I’m not the one in charge of marketing. Here,” he said, handing me a flyer from his leather portfolio. “This has all the information for Romeo and Juliet. You should come check it out before we close.” Gerald rose from his chair. “Feel free to hang here as long as you want. We don’t have a show tonight.”
I stayed another few minutes before going outside to try to figure out how to get back to the hotel. I took out my phone and had just found a map of the island, when I heard my name being called from down the street. Todd guided his motorcycle up to the curb and pulled off his helmet, his sandy hair pulled back into a trendy man bun.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asked, a large smile on his face.
“Exploring Topsail Beach, what about you?”
“I make a trip to the farmers market every afternoon.”
“You come to the farmers market every day? Don’t you have sous chefs who can do that for you?”
“For me, it’s simple, great ingredients make great food. The biggest misconception about cooking is that a recipe has to be complex to be any good. If you choose the right ingredients you can prepare the most straightforward dish and it’ll come out incredible. That’s why I come to the market. I don’t trust anyone else to get it right.” Todd pointed to the paper in my hand. “What’s that?”
I was still holding the Topsail Little Theater flyer. I passed it to him.
“Are you going to this?” he asked.
“I don’t know, maybe. Why?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Not really the ideal story for someone going through a breakup, is it?” He handed the flyer back to me.
“Maybe I’m more over my ex than I realized,” I teased. “What about you? Up for some Shakespeare?”
“Nah, it’s not really my thing.”
“Theater, or Romeo and Juliet specifically?”
“Romeo and Juliet were, what, like fourteen when they met? High schoolers? If you ask me, that’s way too young to know what love really is, let alone go to pieces over.”
I looked down. “I met my ex in high school my freshman year. I was around fourteen.”
He gently tipped up my chin. “I hope you know I’m not judging you for being at the Boot Camp,” he said.
“I’m judging me, so I wouldn’t blame you one bit.”
He rubbed the scruff on his face and locked into my gaze. “Nah, not my style.”
God, he had beautiful eyes. Like the Atlantic Ocean off Topsail, they were iridescent and flecked with every shade of blue. They were the kind of eyes you could get lost in, and for just a moment, I did.
Todd pointed down the cobblestone street. “Want to check out the farmers market? It’s just a little bit farther down that way.”
“Umm, sure, I guess. I have a little more time.”
We approached the Topsail Farmers Market, which put even the Los Angeles Farmers Market to shame. Spread out across a huge fairway were carts and stands with farm fresh corn, organic berries, heirloom tomatoes, purple carrots, fields of greens, lettuce, broccoli, and kale. There were local merchants selling fresh eggs, local honey, pickles, handmade artisan goat cheese, fresh bread, homemade jam, and fresh fish and seafood.
Todd took my hand and guided me to a stand on the far side of the market. “Oh, good, my favorite vendor’s here. You have to taste this woman’s melons.” He let go of my hand. “Sorry, I’m just realizing how bad that sounded.”
I laughed for the first time in what seemed like months, and it felt wonderful.
He escorted me around to his usual stands and introduced me to the merchants he liked to buy from. I tasted my way through the market, savoring new foods and flavors, while Todd worked out the dinner menu for the hotel.
He picked up large seedless watermelons and fresh mint from the herb stand for a chilled watermelon soup and zucchini blossoms for an Asian tempura-inspired appetizer. We made our way over to the seafood tents, where the fishmongers had their different catches of the day strewn out over trays of crushed ice.
“I’ll take six pounds of the striped bass,” Todd said to the merchant.
“Striped bass? Isn’t that what you were catching off the jetty?” I asked.
“Mine were piddly little guys. Daniel over here,” he said, patting the back of a tall guy with a backwards cap and bright yellow men’s fishing waders, “knows where to catch the big boys.”
Daniel laughed and turned to face me. He had a handsome face that was slightly weather-worn, giving him a more rugged appearance than Todd. “I keep telling him he’s not using the right bait.”
“My bait’s outstanding. What I don’t have is a deep-sea fishing boat. I asked Retreat House for one, but I don’t think it’s in the budget.”
“Well, you’re welcome on my boat anytime. You too, pretty lady,” Daniel said, winking at me.
My cheeks heated up.
“Do you work over at the Retreat House with Todd?” he asked.
“I’m a guest there.”
Daniel glanced over at Todd. “So now that you’re done sleeping your way through the staff, you’re hitting on the guests?” Daniel handed me a flower from the table display. “Don’t let his nice-guy persona fool you, pretty lady. This guy’s a cad of the first order.”
I don’t know why I was surprised by Daniel’s comment. Todd was a handsome, charming, world-renowned chef living in seaside resort town, of course he’d have his fun. But, I didn’t intend to be another notch in his bedpost. According to Emmy, a meaningless fling was the surest way to get over an ex. There was a part of me that desperately wanted to test her hypothesis, to see if I could erase the last fifteen years with Sam in a single night. But, I didn’t know how to separate lust from love, feelings from fever. For me, with Sam, those things had always been one and the same.