Chapter 16
Not in this lifetime
Cecily
The tide is coming in, a rhythmic pulse against the shore. I sit there for a long time, watching the Atlantic swallow the shoreline inch by inch, the salt air clinging to my skin. Behind me, the sound of Alicia’s laughter drifts on the breeze.
I turn to see Ethan, his tall, sixteen-year-old frame silhouetted against the sun as he chases his twelve-year-old sister.
He carries a gravity beyond his years; even this morning, after I told the kids we were coming to the Hamptons and asked them, last minute, to pack whatever they wanted for the next couple of days, he paused.
“Are you okay, Mom?” I had kissed his forehead, offering a smile that I hoped looked steadier than I felt. Now, watching him splash through the surf to make Alicia laugh, I feel a pang of gratitude. He’s giving me the space he knows I need.
I know I’ll have to call Colin later. The thought sits like a stone in my stomach.
He’ll be frustrated by the impulsiveness of this trip.
He prefers order, schedules, and shared decisions.
I can almost hear his sigh, the one that sounds more like a tired parent than a husband.
Something in me didn’t just crack when he refused to come; it went still.
A weary, heavy silence I couldn’t stay in that house with for one more hour.
I stand, brushing the damp sand from my blue linen sundress, and walk to the water’s edge. When it reaches my feet, the cold sends a sudden shock through me.
“Sam!”
A golden blur races past, and cold water splashes against my legs. I stumble back, nearly losing my footing in the sand, as a massive golden retriever skids to a halt in front of me. He’s panting, a tennis ball clamped proudly in his jaws, his tail wagging in a frantic blur.
I crouch instinctively, letting him sniff my hand. He smells like wet fur and the sea. I scratch the soft spot behind his ears, and for a moment, the tension in my chest eases.
"Are you Sam? You gave me quite a scare, boy."
He lunges forward with a wet, sloppy lick to my cheek. A laugh breaks out of me, before I can stop it.
"I’m sorry—he’s usually much better behaved. I think the sea air made him forget his manners."
The voice is low and resonant, carrying an intensity that seems to settle in the air itself. There’s the faintest trace of an accent at its edges—subtle enough that I can’t place it, yet it lingers after he stops speaking.
I lift my eyes and find a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with short dark hair that falls in thick waves. His face is composed of sharp edges and strong lines, anchored by eyes that seem to flare like embers when they catch the light.
“Alexander Santoro. Sorry about Sam.”
The rough timbre of his voice curls under my skin, sending a quick shiver racing along my arms. I rub them briskly, telling myself it’s the breeze.
He holds out his hand, and I rise to take it. As soon as our hands touch, the air shifts around us. The heat of his palm is startling against my skin.
"Cecily Montgomery," I reply, my voice finally finding its footing. I let go quickly, the gold band on my finger catching the light as I tuck a damp strand of hair behind my ear. "No worries… Sam just startled me. He’s adorable."
Alexander looks down at him with gentle fondness, giving the dog's head a few steady pats. "He’s a good boy."
A silence settles between us. It lasts long enough to feel charged, but not uncomfortable, filled only by the roar of the surf. I shift my weight, my toes digging into the cool sand. “Do you live around here?” I ask lightly.
“Just passing through. I came with my sister, but she took off to visit her friends nearby.”
He gestures toward the house just a few yards from my in-laws’ place.
“What about you?”
I look toward the water, where Ethan now has Alicia perched on his shoulders before tossing her into the waves.
“With my kids,” I say. “Squeezing in the last few days before school starts again.”
Alexander nods, running a hand through his hair. That’s when I notice the faint smudge of white paint streaked along his forearm, stark against the bronze of his skin.
"Are you a painter?" I ask, my curiosity momentarily overriding my reserve.
He follows my gaze and chuckles, a low sound that seems to vibrate in the air. "You could say that. I was restoring some furniture at the house."
"Ah, so you're a restorer?"
He shakes his head. "Civil engineer. I just like working with my hands when I get the chance."
My eyes flick involuntarily to his hands—large, long-fingered, roughened by work.
"And you?" he asks, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that makes the beach feel smaller. "What do you work in?"
"I'm a blogger. Lifestyle, social issues... that sort of thing," I say. I offer the simple title because it’s easier, a way to keep the conversation light and avoid the questions that always follow when I mention my column for USA Today. Out here, with the salt on my skin, I’d rather just be another face on the beach than a name in a byline.
"What’s the name?" he asks. "I’d like to read it, if you don’t mind."
"A Small World."
"A Small World," he repeats. He says it slowly, the faint accent curling around the syllables as if he's tasting the words.
He smiles then, a slow, genuine expression that reaches those ember eyes. He offers his hand one last time. "It was a pleasure, Cecily. I should go—Sam needs water."
That accent clings to my name, holding it a second too long.
"Nice meeting you too," I say softly.
I watch him jog back toward the house with Sam bounding at his side. A strange, nagging thought takes root as I watch his retreating figure.
Why does he feel familiar?
Like a name on the tip of my tongue, or a face from a story I read a long time ago and never quite finished.
As soon as we get back late in the afternoon, Abigail tells me Colin called. I thank her and head straight to the bedroom. When I pick up my phone from the nightstand, I see several missed calls from him.
First, a shower. Then I’ll call back.
I’m still under the spray when Alicia knocks to say her dad is calling me. I ask her to answer while I finish up.
When I step back into the room, she hands me the phone.
“Hi, Colin.”
The conversation unfolds exactly as I knew it would.
He’s upset… hurt that we came without him.
When he tells me he’d planned to take us to Smorgasburg in Prospect Park, guilt pricks at me.
Briefly. Then I push it aside. I’ve done nothing wrong.
I’ve waited months for him to make time for this trip.
That’s why, when he offers to come out and shorten it, I say no.
Maybe the distance will do us good. Maybe this impulsive decision will finally force him to reconsider his priorities.
After we hang up, I sit on the edge of the bed with my head bowed, feeling wrung out. Then Alicia calls for me, dinner’s ready, and she’s starving. The urgency in her voice makes me smile despite myself.
Dinner is quiet, but not tense. The kids chatter about their day, already planning tomorrow. Later, as they roast s’mores, Ethan steals a few from Alicia just to make her pout. Her indignant expression makes all of us laugh.
When I finally lie down, I fall asleep for the first time in a long while without that persistent hollow ache… without the weight of Colin’s absence pressing into the dark beside me.
I jolt awake, heart racing, sitting upright in bed. It feels as though I’ve fled a nightmare, though no images remain… only a lingering unease, settling faintly in my chest. I reach for my phone and tap the screen. Just past five. Too early, and I already know sleep won’t come back.
I slip into a swimsuit, pull on a light beach cover-up, and step outside. The air is cool against my skin, carrying the faint brine of the ocean. Along the horizon, dawn begins to stir, soft grays dissolving into pale pinks.
The moment I wade into the water, ignoring the biting chill of its cold, it washes away whatever had followed me out of sleep. The waves both cradle and resist me, drawing me into their steady cadence, stripping my thoughts down to nothing but breath and movement.
I swim until time loses its meaning, until the ache in my arms and legs reminds me I am no longer the girl who could disappear into the water for hours without pause. I roll onto my back and let the sea hold me, the sky stretching endlessly above.
Back on the sand, I’m slipping my cover-up on when a sharp bark breaks the stillness. I turn just in time to see Sam racing toward me, tail high, sand flying beneath his paws. Before he can reach me, Alexander’s voice cuts through the air, low, firm.
“Sam, down.”
The dog stops instantly, obedience snapping into place, then trots the remaining distance with his tongue lolling happily.
“Good morning,” I say as Alexander approaches.
“Good morning.” His expression softens, the command in his voice giving way to warmth. “Swimming in water that cold, this early?”
I smile, lifting one shoulder. “Didn’t even notice. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little cold water.”
He laughs. A deep, resonant sound that carries easily across the shore. “No. There are very few things in this life that I fear. Water isn’t one of them.”
Something in the way he says it makes me pause, as though the words carry a weight I can’t quite see. I find myself wondering what a man like him would be afraid of.
“Are you two going for a swim as well?” I ask.
“We’re heading out to fish,” he says. “The weather’s good today. I want to make the most of it.”
He doesn’t strike me as the fishing type, but I keep the thought to myself. “Then I won’t keep you. Happy fishing.”
I crouch to scratch Sam behind the ears, and as I turn to leave, Alexander’s voice stops me.
“Do you like fish, Cecily?”
I glance back, surprised by the question. “Yes. Very much.”
He gives a brief nod, his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary before he lifts a hand in a small wave and gestures for Sam to follow him.