2️⃣

LINGLING

Point Reyes sounds like the name of a corny tourist trap full of rickety carnival rides, shady locals, and broken dreams. Or like the title of a terrible soap opera with twenty-three seasons and a cast full of D-list actors.

In our years together at Caltech, Elijah never really talked about his hometown, so I had to draw my own conclusions. And maybe it's a sign of my own bad attitude that I pictured it as the tackiest place on earth just from the name alone, but I'm no stranger to my own pessimism. I'm well aware of the fact that I'm not exactly a ray of sunshine.

Speaking of sunshine... I readjust my shades, but I still have to squint through the staggering brightness of the light glaring off the Pacific Ocean to see where I'm going.

"You can't miss it," Elijah texted me when he asked me to meet him for coffee at a place called Lazy Joe's. "Everything you need is right on Main Street."

Technically, he's correct. Main Street in Point Reyes does, indeed, seem to be the main hub of activity. The problem is that there is so much activity that it's difficult to pick out one specific point of interest among the summery chaos.

It's not that it's too busy. Yes, there are tourists everywhere, but the sidewalks and beach boardwalk aren't crowded shoulder-to-shoulder with people. The sand itself, sloping downward from grassy dunes, isn't unbearably congested, either. It seems that Point Reyes is genuinely the hidden gem that it claims to be. Only those who are in on the secret of its existence make themselves at home here for the summer.

Despite that, there are more people here than I'm ever in the mood to deal with. Worse yet, I've definitely spied dozens of VIPs in the throng. Celebrities, musicians, actors, and producers—the kind of people who are too dignified to spend their summer in Malibu or the Hills.

The kind of people who know who my mother is and who would recognize me almost instantly thanks to the fact that, I look so much like her.

Daphne Shay, America's most beloved Hollywood starlet and my mother, has been gracing the silver screen for over fifty years. Her career started when she was just eleven years old, starring in a Hong Kong action-drama series that became a massive hit across Asia. She went on to become one of the most celebrated actresses in Hong Kong cinema, starring in iconic wuxia films, heart-wrenching romantic dramas, and even gritty crime thrillers.

By the time she transitioned to Hollywood, she was already a legend in Hong Kong, and her fame only grew internationally when she starred in a blockbuster trilogy directed by one of Hollywood's most renowned directors.

She's a household name. One of the most famous actresses of her generation.

I'm happy for her, of course, and I'd never be spiteful of the financial privilege her fame has afforded me throughout my life, but sometimes I really wish I didn't belong to such an influential family. I loathe the spotlight.

Most of the time, all I want is to blend into the shadows.

I pull my baseball cap lower as an older woman with long silver hair gazes at me curiously. I'm not even an actress, but I've been asked to sign autographs before just because I'm Daphne Shay's daughter.

Ducking underneath a royal blue awning, I renew my search for Lazy Joe's.

If I'm being completely honest, Point Reyes isn't corny at all. If the sun wasn't trying to blind me, and if I hadn't just gotten off a cross-state flight and then dealt with the harrowing traffic flowing from San Francisco to the coast, I would actually be in a good enough mood to admit that this place is actually pretty charming.

The awning I'm standing under belongs to an old-school eatery called Judy's Diner. The shop next to it is dedicated to saltwater taffy, complete with a display in the window of the taffy-pulling machine, which has drawn several curious children. I pass by a store that sells nothing but popcorn in what seems like every flavor imaginable, including dill pickle and blue raspberry. After that is a tiny used bookstore that's so narrow it barely allows for two people to stand side-by-side in the single aisle that spans far into the back of the building. Up ahead, there's an eclectic New Age-y type of store with a statue of a hunched hag by the door grinning eerily at passersby. On the corner some distance behind me, I passed a restaurant-bar called the Siren & Sword that had a line of patrons spilling out onto the sidewalk.

All in all, it's an interesting mix of businesses. I'm assuming most of them are boarded up during the off-season, but they all seem to be flooded with customers for now. In fact, this entire town probably survives well enough on the tourism that occurs from May to September each year.

I wonder what it looks like during the winter when this Main Street is asleep. It must be a lot more peaceful.

Finally, I locate the café known as Lazy Joe's, which looks exactly like the sort of place someone might want to laze around. It boasts leather beanbag chairs and low lighting. When I step inside, I can hear the soft jazz music playing through the sound system. It's exactly the sort of place that would be lame and cliché back home in Los Angeles, but actually kind of works in a town like this.

I see Elijah right away, leaning back in a chair at a low table in the corner. Harry, also known as Elijah's former assistant and current best man for the wedding that's happening in a matter of days, is here, too. Harry now runs Elijah's startup in San Francisco, having inherited it based on the virtue of his own work ethic.

Elijah's story is odd, to say the least. He's undeniably a genius, not just because he went to Caltech, but because he's got a natural skill with coding and software development. "You two have got the minds for it," our favorite professor always praised us. I knew he was really just praising Elijah, but I took the leftover compliment anyway.

Before we even graduated, Elijah achieved impressive success. He designed an app and sold it for several million dollars, then made another one and sold that for even more. After that, he moved to Silicon Valley and founded his startup, raking in millions and billions more as a result.

Then, last year, he went back to his hometown, and... I don't know. Something changed. He transferred his company to Harry, moved back to Point Reyes, and now he's getting married.

Or rather, remarried.

My story is a lot less exciting than that. When I graduated from Caltech, I wrote some security software that sold for a decent amount and have been doing some white-hat hacking for various industries since then. I stayed in Los Angeles, where I was born. Never married. Rarely dated, in fact.

And now I'm here. In a week, I'll go home and continue on as normal.

The end.

"Hey, Ling!" Elijah calls out, waving me over.

I paste a smile on my face, going through the correct social motions.

"Good to see you guys," I tell them, hoping I seem natural and normal.

No matter how much I genuinely like certain people, socializing has never come easily to me. I always feel like I'm following a script I've been forced to memorize.

"They've got cold brew on tap," Elijah tells me, gesturing to the counter.

"Trendy place," I reply.

Both of them chuckle, and I take that as a win. I step away briefly, give my order to the barista, then sit down in the available chair at the table.

"First time in Point Reyes?" Harry asks. He's a couple of years younger than me and Elijah. A Stanford alum with a good sense of humor about his overpriced education, just like me and Elijah.

I nod. "Yeah. You?"

"Mhm. Nice place. Crazy amount of celebs, though. And I'm pretty sure I saw a Kennedy and a Kardashian on the pier earlier today."

"Together?" I ask.

They laugh again, though I hadn't meant to tell a joke that time.

"Yeah, the exclusivity of this place makes a great hideaway for people like that," Elijah says. "I've lived here most of my life, and I still haven't been able to figure out how this town stays so hidden."

"Your mom said it was siren magic. They guard the shores or something spooky like that," Harry replies with a laugh.

Elijah merely shrugs. He looks a lot happier than I remember him. A lot more relaxed. Like he's finally settled into his life. I haven't met his almost-wife yet, but she seems like a great woman. And clearly, Elijah is crazy for her. The guy is oozing madly-in-love energy. It's a lot different than how he was when he married Carly.

To my relief, Harry carries the conversation. He peppers Elijah with questions about the Main Street shops and what the beach is like in the colder months.

Maybe it should feel weirder that this isn't the first time I've been invited to Elijah's wedding. Except, when he married Carly, he was a lot less at ease. A lot less easygoing. I always got the impression that they only got married because it seemed like the normal thing to do when you've been dating for a while. Or maybe I'm wrong. After all, social cues are not my forte.

Despite all their noble intentions, Elijah and Carly's marriage ended in tragedy. She passed away a few years ago in a car accident, and just like that, Elijah became a widower. I didn't hear from him much in the years that followed. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, I got a save-the-date in the mail announcing the nuptials of Josie Thanomchai and Elijah Navarro.

I've been filled in well enough at this point, though. Josie was Elijah's high school sweetheart. Their love story is the stuff of fairytales. Blah, blah, blah.

I'm happy for him. Obviously.

I just don't really have the patience for silly things like so-called true love. I don't even know if I believe it's real.

"Head in the clouds, Ling?" Elijah asks.

Just like that, I'm yanked out of my reverie. "Sorry. Long flight. Two-hour stopover in Chicago turned into a four-hour delay—"

Harry furrows his brow. "Wait, you fly commercial?"

"I don't really fly at all if I can help it. But yes, I flew commercial to San Francisco."

"Well, why'd you have a stopover in Chicago? That doesn't make sense," Harry presses.

"I had to meet a client in Boston first," I explain, shifting slightly in my seat. "There was a security breach at one of their firms, and they needed me to patch some vulnerabilities in their network. It was supposed to be a quick consultation, but it ran longer than expected. So, I ended up catching a later flight from Boston to San Francisco with a layover in Chicago."

Harry whistles. "That's some serious dedication. And after all that, you still made it out here?"

"Couldn't miss the wedding of the year, could I?" I say with a faint smirk, but the exhaustion from the trip still weighs on me.

"Don't mind him," Elijah says with an easy laugh. "Harry has expensive taste."

Harry snorts loudly. "Is it so wrong to enjoy the finer things in life?"

I take a sip of my coffee so that I'm not forced to agree out of politeness. Despite the significant amount of cash in my bank account, I don't spend much of it. I prefer to make clever investments when the opportunity arises and donate the majority of the returns to charity. Elijah and I have that in common, at least. We don't see the point in hoarding money or spending it on lavish possessions.

"You'll love the venue, fancy man," Elijah says to Harry.

"I already looked it up," Harry admits. "Can't believe a mansion like that has stayed in the same family since it was built. I'm surprised one of the billionaires who summers here hasn't purchased it."

"The Linworths have gotten a lot of offers on it over the years," Elijah admits. "They haven't accepted any of them, though. Thank goodness, too, because Josie's always dreamed of getting married at Marigold Manor, and I'm a man on a mission to make sure she has the wedding of her dreams."

"S'cute, man," Harry replies.

I watch Elijah with a faint smile as he talks about Josie. He's a good man—something I don't say lightly about anyone.

The conversation drifts into light banter, Harry teasing Elijah about how whipped he is while Elijah takes it all in stride.

I let the conversation wash over me, sinking into the familiar comfort of having people around who get me. Elijah's probably one of the only people who never cared about my last name, who never asked invasive questions about my mother, and who treated me like... me.

It's rare to find that.

As I sip my cold brew, I remind myself that this trip isn't about me or my hang-ups with fame or society. It's about being here for Elijah, for Josie, and making sure their wedding goes off without a hitch.

At least, that's the plan.

I smile faintly, nodding along as Elijah and Harry banter about the Arabelle Inn.

"How's the Arabelle Inn treating you?" Elijah asks Harry, and I'm once again relieved to be able to sit back and listen to the conversation rather than be forced to participate in it.

"It's nice. Old school. Comfy bed. The girl behind the front desk is pretty, too."

Elijah raises an eyebrow at him. "Sage? She's the owner's eldest daughter."

"Is she single? I didn't invite a plus-one, after all."

I cringe. Neither did I. It was my hope that nobody would notice—or at least not bring it up.

Elijah purses his lips. "How would I know? She's a bit young for you, Harry. She's a junior at MIT, last I heard. The inn is just her summer job."

"I'm only twenty-six. That's not that big of a difference."

"You also live in San Francisco full-time."

"Right." Harry sighs, his dreams of romance quickly thwarted. To my chagrin, rather than changing the subject, he turns his focus on me. "What about you? Did you bring a date?"

"Uh, no. I don't—I'm not currently seeing anyone."

"Happens to the best of us. Where are you staying, by the way?"

"I'm renting a cottage on the beach. It's small, but it's nice."

"You must've booked way ahead of time," Harry laments with a sigh.

"I told you to secure your accommodation way back in November," Elijah reminds him lightly.

"Guess I'm still in the assistant headspace. I'm so busy taking care of things for you and the company that I forgot to take care of things for myself. At least the maid of honor took over, like, practically everything else. Orm, right?"

Elijah huffs out a laugh. "You haven't met her? She hasn't hunted you down yet?"

Harry blanches. "Should I be worried?"

In response, Elijah merely smirks. "Let's just say that my bride's cousin is very highly organized. She leaves absolutely no room for error."

It hardly sounds like a bad thing, but Elijah makes those qualities seem so ominous. This Orm girl must be a real control freak. Luckily, I'm not the best man, and the happy couple opted not to have groomsmen and bridesmaids, so I'm just an innocent wedding guest and nothing more. A nobody in the crowd, just the way I prefer it.

"Speaking of Orm, she's going to sacrifice me to the mermaids if I'm late meeting her," Elijah says, sitting up straight and looking at his watch. "We have some last-minute surprise details to finalize while Josie is kept occupied by Miss Maisie."

"Who?" Harry and I ask in unison.

Elijah waves off our question, rising to his feet. "You'll find out soon enough, probably. I gotta run. I'll see you guys later tonight!"

He rushes off, clearly too concerned about disappointing the maid of honor to stick around and chat for another second.

Harry leans forward with a grin, lowering his voice as if sharing a big secret. "You don't mind if I head out, too? I don't care what E says—I'm gonna go ask the pretty front desk girl for her number."

I force a polite smile as relief washes over me. Socializing time: over. Thank goodness.

"Not at all," I answer. "See you later."

Harry doesn't need to be told twice. He grabs his half-finished coffee and practically skips out of Lazy Joe's, leaving me alone at the table.

The café is bustling, but tucked away in this corner, I have relative solitude.

Except... I'm taking up an entire table, and there's a sunburnt family hovering near the counter, searching for a spot to sit. With a sigh, I decide to relinquish my bubble of peace. Grabbing my cold brew, I push my chair back and step out into the Point Reyes sunshine.