Chapter 4 Alisha
ALISHA
Cody banged into the doorframe like a human pinball, Muttley skidding at his heels across the polished wood. “Mom! Are you ready yet? Maggie says Luna can carry the napkins in her mouth, and I need to see if Muttley can do the same. Also, Trent said—”
“Deep breath,” Alisha laughed, turning away from the mirror. “One sentence at a time.”
He tried to be patient, failed, and grinned instead. “You look great. Can we go?”
Compliments from an eleven-year-old were rare and therefore priceless. “Thank you, kind sir.” Alisha smoothed her dress once more. The soft blue one with the flutter sleeves that made her feel a little like summer. Then the laughter faded from her mouth as if a dimmer switch had been lowered.
For a heartbeat, she wasn’t in this quiet bedroom at Lost Love Cove.
She was in her early twenties, in a too-bright apartment, heart pounding while she stared at her reflection and wondered if a first date would become a second.
The memory arrived whole: Mike’s smile at the door, the nervous tumble of the night, the way certainty had crept up on her like dawn.
The ache that followed was familiar and honest.
What am I doing?
The question didn’t accuse; it trembled. Grief can be sneaky, slipping into the happiest rooms and turning out the light.
“Mom?” Cody had edged a step into the room, eyes searching her face with a seriousness that always reminded her of his father. “Are you okay?”
“I am,” she said, because it was true and not true, which was the best she could do most days. “I’ll be right down. Shoes, sweater, purse. Then we go.”
Cody gave a thumbs-up, snapped his fingers for Muttley, and vanished in a flurry of paws and boyish energy.
The sudden quiet hummed. Alisha bent to pick up her sweater from the chair.
As she straightened, something brushed her cheek.
It was so light that she might have imagined it, until a warmth spread across her skin like the blessing of the sun after a rain.
She closed her eyes. The old ache unhooked itself.
“I will always love you,” Alisha whispered to the stillness. The words didn’t sting this time. They settled, and a calm rose to meet them. As soft as the touch that had just kissed her cheek. She knew it was only a memory, but it felt like a kind of permission.
When she opened her eyes again, she did not feel torn in half. She felt like someone who could carry two truths at once: she would always love Mike, and she wanted to keep living. She slipped on her sweater, grabbed her tote, and headed downstairs.
Cody and Muttley were waiting by the front door. Muttley had a dishtowel clenched proudly in his mouth; it was damp at the corners. “We’re ready,” Cody announced, vibrating with purpose.
“Well, look at you,” Alisha said. “You’re practically a butler.”
“Like in the movies,” Cody agreed. “But different, because I can sprint.”
Before Alisha could reply, someone knocked. The sound landed with cheerful authority, and when she opened the door, the evening seemed to rearrange itself around the three figures on the porch.
Maggie stood front and center, ponytail high, cheeks bright from the sea air.
Luna leaned into her leg, tail working steadily.
Then there was Trent. He was in a clean white tee and board shorts, sporting that irrepressible half-smile, and balanced a woven picnic basket on one hand like a magician.
The scent of hot vinegar and fries floated up as if the basket itself were exhaling happiness.
“We took a vote,” Maggie announced. “The moon is huge and the sand is perfect, so we’re declaring a fish-and-chips moon picnic before the movie.”
“That’s… not in the bedtime plan,” Alisha said, trying to sound stern and failing. The smell from the basket was criminally persuasive. “You’re going to be all sandy.”
“We’ll hose off,” Maggie promised. “There are outdoor showers at Nana’s.”
“Pretty please, Mom?” Cody chimed, rocking on his heels. Muttley, humming with the frequency of adventure, barked once and nudged her knee with his nose.
Trent hit her with the grin that ought to require a license. “I brought extra napkins. And evidence,” he said, angling the basket lid so she could see the cargo inside: white paper parcels, bottles of ginger ale, lemon wedges tucked like little suns along the edge.
“Bribery,” Alisha said.
“Resource allocation,” Trent countered. “We’re supporting the local economy.”
“It’s almost like you know how to wear me down.” Alisha beamed.
“Almost?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Fine. But if we come home with a beach in our shoes, you’re on vacuum duty.”
“Deal,” Trent said, solemn as a notary. His eyes warmed. “You look…”
“Like someone who is easily bribed,” she supplied.
“Beautiful,” he said.
Heat tapped her cheeks; gratitude flooded the rest of her. “Okay,” she said, more softly than she meant to. “Let’s go.”
They spilled out into the twilight as if the night had been waiting for them.
The sky wore the first stars like a shy crown, and the moon was an extravagant coin, bright enough to draw their shadows long across the lane.
The air tasted like salt and lime from some distant porch.
Somewhere, a radio drifted; on another porch, laughter answered back.
The path to the beach had been swept clean of storm debris, though the memory of that night clung to the trunks of the palms, a few fronds still ragged from the wind’s temper.
The cove itself breathed in its usual rhythm—waves lacing the sand, pausing to admire their handiwork, then smoothing it away to start again.
Maggie and Cody ran ahead, then turned around, and then ran again.
Luna and Muttley circled them with efficient joy, taking their jobs as fun coordinators very seriously.
Alisha followed more slowly with Trent. Halfway down the wooden steps, the sole of her sandal kissed a shell that shifted under her weight.
She pitched forward with an involuntary gasp.
A hand wrapped her wrist with a surety that felt practiced.
Trent’s other hand found her elbow. The world steadied.
“Hey,” he said, voice low. “I’ve got you.”
“I’m fine,” Alisha assured him, and was surprised to hear that she meant it. She didn’t pull her hand away. He didn’t let go. It wasn’t a decision so much as a habit they seemed to have already learned.
At the bottom of the steps, the sand cupped their feet, cool and forgiving.
The kids had chosen a spot well above the tideline, a gentle rise that gave them command of the view: the crescent of the cove, the ink-blue ocean slicked with moonlight, the friendly lanterns of houses punctuating the dark.
Maggie spun in a full circle, arms thrown wide.
“This is the best idea I’ve ever had in my life,” she announced.
“It’s definitely in your top five,” Trent said, deadpan, setting the basket down and flipping open the lid. “Inventing ‘popsicle soup’ still holds the crown.”
“That was Cody,” Maggie corrected, magnanimous. “But thank you for remembering excellence.”
Cody puffed out his chest. “It’s a revolutionary concept. You put two different popsicles in one bowl and—”
“Chaos,” Alisha said, laughing, and settled on the blanket Trent unrolled.
They made a small camp with the efficiency of people who had done hard things together and now cherished every easy one.
Alisha spread napkins. Maggie assigned every item a place.
Trent portioned out fish in its crisp jacket, chips in their hot golden tangle, little containers of tartar sauce lining up like a polite committee.
Cody squeezed lemon like a surgeon—serious, exact, absolutely committed to the point.
“Plastic glass?” Trent offered, holding up a pair of clear cups and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. Light pinged off the glass in tiny stars.
“Yes, please,” Alisha said, relieved by the choice. The night didn’t need the blur of alcohol. Everything already felt bright enough to be a little unreal.
They ate with the kind of enthusiasm that makes even silence feel like conversation.
Maggie narrated her plan for the movie afterward as if she were pitching to a studio executive.
Cody announced he had achieved the perfect chip-to-ketchup ratio and would be offering consulting services.
Luna and Muttley, very good beggars, managed to look both noble and starving.
Trent tapped his cup gently against Alisha’s. “To the moon picnic,” he said. His voice had gone softer again without his permission.
“To bribery,” Alisha returned, eyes smiling over the rim of her glass.
“A subcategory of romance,” he said. “In certain states.”
She arched a brow. “Florida?”
“Pending legislation.”
They sat shoulder to shoulder, thighs bracketed by the warmth of the blanket, the air between them fitted like a well-made seam.
Children’s voices stitched the night. Waves measured time their own way.
Alisha felt peace settle over the bones of the evening—a quilted weight, gentle and protective.
She reached for a lemon wedge and realized, a second later, that her left hand had sought Trent’s again the moment it wasn’t needed for food.
His thumb passed over the pulse in her wrist as if he were making sure it kept the right time.
Mike, she thought, not with pain but with gratitude. I wish you could see him. I wish you could see us. How happy we are again. Even though we still miss you, we are finally moving on.
A gull ghosted low over the water, white wings silvered by the moon.
Maggie and Cody finished, wiped their hands with the ceremonial solemnity of people who had conquered a great meal, and immediately kicked off their shoes to run toward the water’s edge.
Luna and Muttley followed with relieved barks, and in the next breath, there were shrieks and splashes and the particular kind of giggling that happens when small waves try to tickle shins.
“Oh, boy,” Alisha said, half-standing. “Here comes the sand. We’ll be rinsing for days.”
Trent leaned back on his hands, contentment settling across his features like the tide at slack water. “Occupational hazard of living next to joy.”
“That’s almost poetic.” Alisha laughed.
“Send that to Maggie’s top five,” he said, and turned to look at her properly. The sea put a gloss on his eyes; the moon put a line of silver along his jaw. “You know what else is almost poetic?”
“If you say ‘popsicle soup,’ I’m taking my sparkling juice and going home.”
He laughed, low and surprised, and the sound went through her like a small shock.
“I was going to say… this. All of this.” He gestured lightly at the blanket, the food, the kids wrapped in sound, the dogs doing their rounds, the night holding them as if they belonged here.
“I didn’t think I’d get to have it. Not like this. ”
The answer rose and caught in her throat because it was the same one she carried.
She didn’t try to force it into words. Instead, she leaned her shoulder into his and let her head slant until it rested, brief and certain, against his temple.
He stilled, then exhaled so softly she felt it on her cheek.
“Mom! Trent! Look!” Cody shouted from the surf. “Bioluminescence!”
They both turned. Where little feet stirred the water, the sea lit up with tiny notes of blue like a constellation shaken loose and poured at their ankles. Maggie nearly fell over trying to splash it into a brighter glow.
“Okay,” Alisha said, rising, her laughter at the edge of awe. “That is spectacular.”
“Nature’s special effects,” Trent agreed, standing and reaching a hand down to her. When her fingers slid into his, some small, precise knot in her chest gave way.
They stepped toward the water together. The cool edge of the ocean slid across their toes; blue beadwork flared and went dim again with each step.
Maggie and Cody whooped and danced and flung droplets into the air like amateur magicians.
Luna charged a wave and then sprinted away as if she had taught it a lesson.
Muttley chased joy itself and very nearly caught it.
Alisha glanced up at the moon. It was so fat and full it seemed to lean down and listen.
She smiled, not at it but at the sensation blooming under her ribs.
She had been afraid that happiness would feel like a betrayal.
It didn’t. It felt like a promise kept. It felt like walking forward without letting go of what came before.
Beside her, Trent squeezed her hand once, as if they had agreed on a signal. “Hey,” he said quietly, the sea working its threadwork around their ankles. “I’ve got an idea.”
“Is it better than bioluminescence?” Alisha asked.
“Different,” Trent said, and the look on his face made her feel sixteen and steady at once. “But good.”
“Okay,” Alisha said.
“After the movie,” Trent said, “if everyone’s still awake, we come back out here. Blankets. Stars. Maybe you can tell me the names of your favorite constellations.”
“I only know three.” Alisha gave a nervous laugh.
“Then I’ll make some up,” Trent offered. “I’m very persuasive.”
She laughed, delighted by the audacity of it. “You are, actually.”
A small wave lapped higher, blooming their footprints with glimmer, and Alisha felt the tug to step closer to him, to let the night turn the dial one click further toward whatever was coming. She did. His arm went easily around her, and the curve of his palm against her back fitted like memory.
Maggie squealed. Cody answered. The dogs barked in approval. The cove held its breath, then released it in a long, contented hush.
Alisha tipped her face up toward Trent’s, and the sparkle off the water chased across his mouth as if encouraging her. She had time to think, This is right, and then—
“Race you to the blanket!” Cody yelled, and two small streaks of motion tore past them toward the picnic, trailing laughter and water.
Alisha snorted. “We are never getting them to bed.”
“We’ll negotiate,” Trent said gravely. “I have leverage. There are still three chips left.”
“Bribery again.”
“Resource allocation,” he returned, and together they followed the children back to the spread of light and paper and lemon, the night smooth and new around them, as if it were happy to see how far they’d come.