Memories By the Shore (Tangerine Sky #4)

Chapter One

Now

Avery

Iroll my luggage into my Scottsdale penthouse apartment. The click of my high heels on the hardwood floors greets me whenever I come in. The smell of leather and spice warms my insides, signaling I’ve entered solitude.

I’ve never given much thought to how I’d spend my future. I’m not one to plot and plan and prefer to be left alone. I enjoy lying amongst my books and pieces of artwork.

It’s not that I don’t like people. I do.

I’m a flight attendant, and that is a large part of the job, but truthfully, there are only a handful of people I can tolerate for long periods.

They are my three best friends and sometimes the guy I’m casually dating, Dave.

But even Dave isn’t allowed to stay over, and I never stay at his place even after over a year of being romantically involved.

Both of my parents unexpectedly died in a car accident when I was seventeen.

I didn’t know them well. They spent most of my childhood traveling overseas with my father’s IT company.

I was raised by Maye, my nanny since I was six, and the other staff members on my parents’ payroll.

That was my life, and I’ve inadvertently curated the same level of solitude now as an adult.

My phone buzzes inside my bag. I shut and locked the door behind me, then unzipped my travel bag and slipped it out.

Piper: I’ll be in town next Sunday! Happy hour at The Poppy?

Bailey: I’m so excited to see you. I’m in!

Lina: I’ll be there. I’m ready to hug you, Piper Moon.

I tap out a quick reply to my best friends.

Me: Can’t wait to see you!

I’m closer to them than I have been to anyone else my entire life. Bailey and I met in college, and then we met Lina and Piper in flight attendant school. We’ve been flying together for the same airline since we left school.

I glance at the time and notice how late it is. Dave is taking me out to dinner tonight. In his message, he said to dress nice. He always has something up his sleeve.

I flip on the lights and hit the remote to open the curtains with a panoramic view of downtown. They slowly open and display the spotted lights of the city. My hometown. The place I returned to as soon as I had the chance. I love this place. I’m never fucking leaving.

Since I wasn’t yet eighteen years old when my parents passed, I had to give up my entire life in Phoenix and move to a small Northern California coastal town with my aunt Helen.

The icing on an already horrible cake was that my inheritance wasn’t going to be released to me until I reached a specific age.

And once I reached that age, which was eighteen, I would only get small installments.

The second came at twenty-one, then twenty-five, with the final and total amount at thirty.

I take the first step on the spiral staircase that leads to the loft area, holding my luggage in one hand while gripping the metal railing with the other.

When I get to the open floor plan with my bed, dresser, and mounted TV, I breathe a sigh of relief that I am home.

Rolling my bags to the side, I head straight for the shower.

In the middle of soaping up my hair, my phone vibrates. Drying my hand first, I swipe it off the counter.

“Hey, how was your trip?” Dave’s voice is low on the other end.

Dave and I met when I had a dental emergency, but my dentist was out of town. He was on call that weekend and offered to see me in one of his offices on a Saturday afternoon.

He drove in a small red sports car and hopped out in jeans, a white T-shirt, and dark sunglasses. I was attracted to him right away.

Over the last year and a half, we’ve dated casually.

During those first few months, we both agreed that this was just for fun.

I’d call Dave when I was lonely or had no one to go to dinner with, and then it morphed into us having weekends away together.

We’re friends who sleep together and spend time together, but the spark is nonexistent.

It’s more of a friendship, and the occasional hookup isn’t bad—he gets the job done.

“It was good. I’m in the shower. Can I call you back?”

“Don’t forget I’m taking you out tonight,” he reminds me as if I’d forgotten.

Water drips down my arm. “Yeah, at eight, right?”

“That was the plan, but I’m actually at your place now. Buzz me in.”

Irritation creeps up my back. Dave said eight. I’m not ready to be social yet. I clamp my eyes shut. I need to relax. He’s just being nice.

“Okay, give me a minute to get dressed.”

“Alright, I’ll be down here waiting.”

After tossing my phone back on the counter, I shave my legs and get out. It only takes me another ten minutes to slip on a nice red dress and high heels and put on a little makeup. Shit! I forgot Dave was still downstairs waiting for me. He doesn’t need to come up now since I’m ready to go.

Me: Headed down.

Dave the Dentist: Finally. I thought you had forgotten about me again.

I chuckle nervously, typing out a response. He acts like it happens frequently. It does happen often, but what does he expect? I live in my own head half the time.

Me: HaHa.

I swipe my clutch off the top of my dresser and fly down the stairs. I’m pushing through the double doors on the ground floor and straight out of the building in no time. Dave is standing off the side, with annoyance written on his face. I’m always late, and he hates it.

“You could have just buzzed me in,” he deadpans as I loop my arm through his. He’s wearing a white collared shirt, dress pants, and more cologne than usual.

“Sorry!” I rush out—a loss of breath from sprinting down the hallway in heels.

“I’m used to it.”

I curl my lip at him, but suddenly, my scowl turns into surprise when I see a limo pull up in front of us.

“What is this, Dave?”

“It’s a limo,” he says. “I thought that was obvious.”

“I know it’s a limo.” I watch as he opens the door for me. “What is it doing here? With us?”

He gestures for me to get in. “It’s a surprise.”

Weary and unsure, I oblique and slide into the back seat. “Alright.”

Dave jogs around to the other side and joins me. “I know you don’t like surprises. But you’ll love this one.”

Dave’s love language is acts of service. And I don’t mean back rubs or foreplay that focuses on me—he likes to buy things and have things bought for him. I would appreciate the gestures more if they were authentic, but his usual acts of grandeur are meant to stroke his ego.

“You know, you don’t have to buy me.” I playfully smirk.

“I know you have enough money of your own. But I want to remind you of what I can give you. And maybe, at some point, we’ll be able to share it all.”

Share it all—what does that mean?

The limo pulls up to the back of a tall office building in the Arts District. A gust of warm May air whips past me as the car door opens. When I step out, that same desert breeze moves through my hair. Dave comes around the other side and presses a gentle hand on the small of my back.

Glancing upward, my eyes scan each floor comprising dark windows, except for the top floor. The yellow glow of the lights and the tables nestled toward the window make me recognize this is a restaurant—and I think I know which one it is.

I turn to Dave. “Saguaro and Wren?”

His smile beams with confidence and a subtle hint of smugness. He knows who he is and what he’s capable of and will never give up the opportunity to flaunt the privilege he was born into.

“Yeah, the most exclusive restaurant in the valley,” he tells me.

The elevator door opens to a hostess stand.

“Welcome. We’ve been expecting you, Dr. Stoll.” The hostess with the high blonde ponytail greets us.

He’s had decades-long connections in the city. The Stoll family owns a large group of dental offices across the valley. His two siblings, father and mother, are all dentists and work out of the prospective offices.

I drag my eyes around the top-floor restaurant and along the floor-to-ceiling 360-degree views. The lights from downtown Phoenix and the low glow from the teacup table lamps are the only lights in this dim space. It’s dreamy and romantic.

“We’re happy to be here,” Dave says as we both watch the hostess grab two leather menus.

“Right this way.” She smiles, gesturing for us to follow her. We both fall into step behind as she weaves through the empty tables in this oddly vacant restaurant. Why is there no one else here? This restaurant is one of the best in town and is typically fully booked months in advance.

I began putting all the pieces together as we approached the candlelight table covered in red rose petals.

“This is perfect, thank you,” Dave compliments, walking over to pull out my chair.

My throat runs dry while I try to swallow the formed cotton ball.

Oh fuck. My eyes roll over the deserted space, and one more time, a group of staff members lined up by the kitchen door with broad smiles.

Then, I find the hostesses, three young girls giggling behind the stand.

Oh my god. When my focus circles back around to Dave, he kneels before me.

I gasp. Panic zips up my back. He’s going to propose!

“Avery?” My name rolls off his tongue with confidence and ownership.

“Mhmm?” is all I manage to say as my heart pounds inside my chest. I can barely form words.

“I would wait until after dinner to do this, but I knew if I didn’t do it now, then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my food,” he tells me.

I bite back a chuckle but let him continue.

“It’s only been a little more than a year, and I know we started as some casual thing, but I also know that you want more.

” Do I? “I’m getting to that age where I’d like to settle down.

I need someone to come to events with me, support the boards I’m on, and play nice with the other wives. ”

This proposal is in true Dave fashion.

“Okay.” I nod, fighting the urge to speak because this sounds more like a contractual thing than anything else.

Then Dave slips out a small black velvet box from his front pocket. “This is custom made,” he quickly says before uttering those four words with life-changing power. “So, Avery Thomas.” He clears his throat. “Will you marry me and become part of the Stoll family?”

A sharp ringing in my ears is all I hear as everything around me goes silent. The light clinking of dishes in the kitchen disappears. The sound of my own breath echoes inside my skull as if underwater.

I should marry Dave. And I believe with all my heart he’ll provide me with a safe and secure life.

We’ll continue to be friends, occasionally hooking up for mediocre sex, who would be living together.

We’ll rarely fight, he’ll agree with most things I say, and we’ll live happily ever after in mundane marital bliss.

But I know things could be better—I’ve had better.

But I’ll never have a love like that again. I’ve accepted it.

But the moment the word “Sure” comes out of my mouth, I don’t get flashes of plans for my dream wedding or fantasies of a future with him. The only image that flashes through my mind is of someone else’s, reminding me of a secret I’ve kept for eight years.

I’m already married.