Six
ELISE
Is it me or is there something deliciously sexy in the air here at the beach? I don’t think I imagined the chemistry between me and Smith this morning. And I haven’t felt this attractive since Harry and I started dating, way back when.
Before I turned into a suburban housewife and definitely before Harry decided to replace me with a younger model.
Sure, Smith’s too young for me. Zero percent chance he’d want to hop aboard my baggage train — divorced with two kids — but a girl can fantasize, right?
Those strong arms on either side of me, that chiseled body levered over mine as he drills into me…
“Elise? Are you there?” My best friend Kat’s voice echoes down the line, pulling me back to reality.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Anyway, the house is kind of a disaster, but not a tear-down. I’m thinking of spending the summer here. Can you come down?” I stare out at the dark blue waves of the Atlantic, already picturing reading on the beach all summer long.
“Probably, for a week or two. Greg and I are taking the kids to Disney, but that’s all we’ve planned so far. What are you doing about school next year?”
I pick at a hangnail, a habit I can’t seem to break. “Keeping them at Covington for the moment, but I’m staying nimble.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Kat laughs.
“It means I don’t know what the hell’s happening at the moment. Cami and Colton are young — maybe Atlanta isn’t the best place for us.”
“You’re moving?” Kat’s voice rises an octave.
“I didn’t say that…” I hedge. Even though the thought has crossed my mind once or twice since inheriting my aunt’s house.
“Ohmygawd, Elise! I’ll die without you here!”
“You won’t. And don’t mention anything about this conversation, even to Greg. I have no firm plans right now, and I don’t want to stir anything up with Harry.”
Kat inhales, and I picture her doing deep yoga breathing at her kitchen table. “Okay, promise. Seaglass Beach must be amazing for you to be thinking about moving.”
“It’s different, that’s for sure. I’ve always wanted to live by the beach, but we had to stay near the city for Harry. Now I don’t have to worry about him.”
“What about custody though?” Kat asks.
“A sticking point, but you know Harry only cares about the money. I’m sure we can work out some visitation schedule that fits his needs.” I sigh, wishing I didn’t have to worry about Harry at all.
“Not to bring up a sore subject, but have you heard anything about him?”
A cold dread slithers through my gut. “What do you mean?”
“It’s probably nothing —”
“But —” I prod, tiny hairs rising on the back of my neck.
“Jacqueline O’Leary told me she saw Harry out shopping.”
“So? Harry loves shopping. Especially for himself.” I scrunch my nose up, trying to remember the last time Harry bought something for me and coming up blank.
“Not for clothes, Elise. Ring shopping. He was at Harry Winston, checking out diamond rings.”
All the air rushes out of me, as if I’ve been sucker punched in the gut.
“Elise?” Kat’s voice is quiet and small.
Even though I shouldn’t care, I still do, and my cheeks flame with shame.
“I gotta go. Thanks for telling me.”
“I have your back, babe. Stay strong.” Kat air kisses down the line and I disconnect, tossing my phone into the empty chair beside me.
I know this is direct from the gossip hotline, but deep down I believe it’s true.
Harry’s moved on.
It’s well past time for me to do the same.
After the convo with Kat, my day rounds out with a text from Nate.
Lawyer Man: Congrats! Paperwork signed, sealed, delivered. You’re officially a free woman.
I stare down at the message, my hands shaking, and suddenly feel dizzy. I knew this was coming, but seeing the words is still a shock. And it would have been nice if Nate called with the news instead of texting. Still, I text back.
Elise: Thanks for letting me know. I appreciate your hard work. Do I need to do anything else?
Lawyer Man: Nope. Done and dusted.
Elise: Thanks
Now I’m way too keyed up to watch TV alone in my room all night. And after hearing all this Harry news, I deserve a fun night out.
Changing into a cornflower blue midi dress and sandals, I tousle my hair into loose waves and dab on fresh lip gloss. Overall, not bad for forty. Then I head over to the tiki bar, a fizzy excitement bubbling through my veins.
This has nothing to do with the possibility of bumping into Smith.
Uh-huh. Sure.
Not that he’d be here two nights in a row. Surely he has better things to do on the weekend than hang at his cousin’s hotel bar. Hell, for all I know, he has a girlfriend; I’m probably reading way too much into the situation.
The sounds of laughter and Buffett tunes float on the wind, the tiki bar twinkling against the inky night sky. It’s more crowded tonight, but there’s one open spot at the bar and I beeline for it.
“Hey, back again.” Parker beams at me, his surfer hair swooping down over his forehead. “Pinot grigio?”
“Perfect,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment that Smith’s not here.
“How’d it go at the house today?” Parker asks, handing the wine to me.
I take a sip and nod. “Good. Smith said he’ll get the estimate to me early next week.”
“Nice. I’m sure you want to get the work done ASAP, right? So you can summer here?” Parker trains his eyes on mine, and it’s the second time today I get the feeling everyone in town is interested in my Aunt Gin’s house.
“That would be ideal.”
“Solid. I’m sure we can get it livable by then. Do you think you’ll rent it at all?”
“No idea. I found out about the house less than a week ago. I haven’t had much time to think about it.”
“Well, if you’re interested in selling, maybe we could work something out.”
“Funny you should mention that — some guy named Jagger came by this morning and offered the same.”
Parker freezes, his eyes narrowing. “It’s not my place to tell you what to do, but I’ll warn you — the Capellis are bad news. I wouldn’t do business with any one of them.”
I nod. “That’s exactly what Smith said.”
“Good, I’m glad. Oh hey, man,” Parker tips his chin up. “Speak of angels…”
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest as Smith squeezes in beside me, his body brushing up against mine and sending a thrill racing through me. He’s so close I catch the fresh scent of his cologne.
I glance over and wave, noting the way his chest fills out his button-down. Heat flames my cheeks and I’m glad it’s dark outside now.
“Hopefully you weren’t telling Elise any of my embarrassing stories,” Smith says, cocking an eyebrow.
“Never.” Parker crosses his heart and Smith chuckles, the deep vibrations sending shock waves to my core.
And here I thought that part of me was dead.
The next hour passes in a blur of laughter, wine, and funny stories, both Parker and Smith trying to one-up the other.
“So — who do you think’s funnier, Elise? Me or Smitty?” Parker leans over the bar, grabbing my hand. Smith bristles next to me, then reaches over and brushes Parker’s hand away.
“I’m sure it’s not even a contest, right?” Smith’s fingers linger on my forearm, his touch searing my skin, and all I can manage is a nod.
“Right. Sorry, Parker.” I scrunch my nose at him and Parker lets out a low whistle.
“I see who the crowd favorite is tonight. Guess I’m going to have to work on my material.”
A low rumble of thunder sounds in the distance, and the wind picks up.
“I should get going, it’s late,” I say.
“No, the night’s still young,” Parker says. “Besides, I need to win the next round of Who’s Funnier.”
A drop of rain falls, then another. “I’m going to get drenched. Can you put it on my room for me?” I ask.
“Sure, I’ve got you.” Parker nods as more customers signal for their checks.
“I’m gonna head out, too. Add it to my tab.” Smith taps the bar, but doesn’t leave. Instead, he waits for me, offering his strong hand as I stand.
“Thanks,” I murmur, gazing up at him, my throat dry.
More rain falls — big, cold drops — and Smith and I run toward the bungalows hand in hand.
Lightning shoots across the sky and the rain sheets down around us.
By the time we arrive at Bungalow Four, my hair’s soaking and beads of water trickle down my skin.
Smith’s shirt is translucent, the fabric clinging to his muscular pecs.
I shiver beneath the ambient glow of the hotel light and Smith pulls me toward him, trying to warm me up.
My breath catches as the rain falls steadily behind us. “You want to come in and dry off? Wait for the storm to pass?”
He hesitates for a second and my gut clenches — maybe I’ve overstepped?
“Sure.”
I pull out my key and unlock the door to Bungalow Four.