Chapter 21 Tasha
twenty-one
tasha
By the time I'd dragged myself out of bed and into the small kitchen, Nate was already making coffee while Paige bounced around the cabin in her swimsuit, beach bag packed and ready to go.
"Morning, beautiful," Nate said, handing me a mug. "Someone's been up since sunrise making plans for today."
"We need to get to the beach early," Paige explained with the serious tone of a military strategist. "Before all the good spots are taken. And I want to check on my sandcastle from yesterday."
"Your sandcastle," I said, taking a grateful sip of coffee, "was destroyed by the tide, kiddo. That's what happens to sandcastles."
Paige looked genuinely shocked by this information. "All of it?"
"All of it," Nate confirmed gently. "But that means you get to build an even better one today."
Her face brightened immediately. "Can we make it bigger? With more towers? Oh, and can we try boogie boarding today? I saw some kids doing it yesterday and it looked so cool."
I glanced at Nate, who was trying not to smile. "I've never actually boogie boarded," I admitted.
"Neither have I," Paige said. "We can learn together!"
And that's how I found myself an hour later, standing in knee-deep water with a foam board under my arm, getting instruction from an eleven-year-old who'd watched exactly three other kids attempt this activity.
"You have to wait for the right wave," Paige said with complete authority. "Not too big, not too small. And then you jump on and ride it in."
"Sounds simple enough," I said, though watching the other boogie boarders, it looked like there was significantly more skill involved than Paige's explanation suggested.
Nate waded out to join us, his own board tucked under his arm. "Famous last words," he said.
My first attempt was a complete disaster. I mistimed the wave, got tumbled head over heels, and came up sputtering with sand in places sand should never be. Paige and Nate were trying very hard not to laugh.
"Maybe start with smaller waves?" Nate suggested diplomatically.
"Maybe start with a different sport," I muttered, but I was already wading back out. I was not going to be defeated by a piece of foam and some water.
It took me six tries, but I finally caught a wave that carried me all the way to shore, Paige cheering like I'd just won an Olympic medal.
The rush of riding that wave, the simple joy of Paige's excitement, the way Nate was grinning at me when I stood up—it was pure happiness in a way I hadn't experienced since I was a kid.
"Again!" Paige demanded. "Do it again!"
We spent the next hour taking turns with the boards, Paige getting braver with each wave while I slowly got less terrible at reading the water.
Nate, predictably, was naturally good at it—something about his military training probably gave him better balance and wave-reading skills than us civilians.
I found myself watching him as he helped Paige position herself on her board, the patient way he explained how to paddle, how to time the wave. His shoulders were already getting tan, and there was something about seeing him in full dad-mode that made my heart do complicated things.
"You're staring," he said, catching me looking when Paige ran off to rinse sand out of her board.
"I'm appreciating," I corrected. "There's a difference."
"Appreciating what, exactly?"
"The view," I said, gesturing vaguely at his chest, then grinned when he actually blushed a little. "Also, you're really good with her. It's... attractive."
"Just good with her?" he asked, stepping closer.
"Good with me, too," I admitted, then splashed him before he could get too smug about it.
After lunch, we headed to the campground pool, where Paige immediately made friends with a group of kids who were organizing an elaborate game that seemed to involve a lot of screaming and splashing.
Nate and I claimed chairs in the shade and watched her careen around the pool like a tiny, determined torpedo.
"She's going to sleep well tonight," I observed.
"That's the plan," Nate said, though I caught him looking at me in my bikini with an expression that suggested his thoughts weren't entirely focused on Paige's bedtime.
"What?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what.
"Nothing," he said, not very convincingly. "Just... this is nice."
"Yeah," I said softly. "It is."
We sat in comfortable silence, watching Paige attempt to teach her new friends some elaborate diving technique she'd apparently invented on the spot. The afternoon sun was warm on my skin, and I felt more relaxed than I had in months. Maybe years.
This was so different from anything I'd grown up with.
My family vacations had been tense, scheduled affairs; my father checking his phone constantly, my mother making lists and getting frustrated when things didn't go according to plan.
There had been no spontaneous boogie boarding, no lazy afternoons by the pool, no sense that the point was just to enjoy each other's company.
Watching Nate with Paige, the easy affection between them, the way he could be completely present without needing to be anywhere else or do anything else…
it was a revelation. This was what love looked like in practice.
Not grand gestures or dramatic declarations, but patient attention, shared laughter, the simple pleasure of being together.
"Tasha!" Paige called from the pool. "Come see this dive!"
I dutifully admired her cannonball, which soaked three other kids and earned her a stern look from a lifeguard.
When she climbed out to demonstrate her technique on dry land first, I found myself thinking about how naturally I'd slipped into this role-- not trying to be her mother, but just being someone who cared about her, who celebrated her small victories and helped her learn new things.
It felt right in a way that surprised me. I'd never been particularly maternal, but with Paige, it was easy. She was smart and funny and kind, and she made me want to be the kind of adult who deserved her trust.
"You're good with her too, you know," Nate said quietly, following my gaze.
"She makes it easy."
"No," he said seriously. "You make it look easy. But I see how much thought you put into it. How careful you are with her feelings. It means everything to me."
I felt my throat tighten unexpectedly. "She's a pretty great kid."
"Yeah, she is." He paused. "We both got lucky."
Later, as the sun began to dip, we found ourselves near the campground’s activity center where a surprisingly intense cornhole tournament was underway. Paige, naturally, wanted to watch.
"Come on," Nate said after a particularly impressive throw by a woman who looked like she could bench press him. "Think you can handle a little friendly competition?" He gestured to an empty set of boards.
I smirked. "Ohhhh, you have no idea what you’re getting into."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Yeah?"
What followed was, to put it mildly, a slaughter.
My Uncle Earl, a man who considered cornhole an Olympic-level sport, had drilled its intricacies into us from childhood.
Nate, it turned out, was a rank amateur.
Bag after bag, mine sailed through the air with a satisfying thud, landing squarely in the hole or very near it. His… did not.
His jaw literally dropped after my third straight "cornhole" - the term for getting the bag directly in the hole. Paige was screaming with laughter, cheering me on like I was a professional athlete.
"Where," Nate finally managed, looking utterly bewildered as I sank another perfect shot, "did you learn to do that?"
I winked, dusting off my hands. "Family reunions. My Uncle Earl takes his cornhole very seriously. You pick up a few things."
He just shook his head, a reluctant grin spreading across his face.
Afterwards, we walked along the beach as the sun set, supposedly looking for turtle nests but really just enjoying the cooler air and the sound of the waves. Paige ran ahead of us, collecting shells and examining every piece of seaweed for signs of marine life.
"No turtles yet," she reported back, "but I found three really good shells and what might be part of a crab."
"Definitely part of a crab," Nate agreed solemnly, examining her treasure.
The stars were just starting to appear when we made it back to the cabin. Paige was finally showing signs of fatigue, though she was fighting it with everything she had.
"Can we have a campfire tomorrow night?" she asked, curled up on the small couch between us. "With s'mores? Real ones?"
"Absolutely," I said. "I'll teach you the proper s'more construction technique."
"There's a technique?" Nate asked.
"Oh, there's definitely a technique. Golden brown marshmallow, perfectly melted chocolate, graham crackers that don't crack when you bite them. It's an art form."
Paige giggled. "Tasha knows everything."
"I don't know everything," I protested. "I just know s'mores."
"And boogie boarding," Paige added. "Eventually."
"Very eventually," I said, making her laugh again.
She fell asleep on the couch twenty minutes later, despite her insistence that she wasn't tired.
Nate carried her to her bunk bed, and I found myself watching from the doorway as he tucked her in, the gentle way he brushed her hair back from her face, the soft "good night, kiddo" he whispered before turning on her nightlight.
"She's out cold," he said, joining me on the small front porch.
"Beach days will do that," I said, settling into one of the plastic chairs. "I'm pretty tired myself."
"Good tired?"
"The best kind of tired." I looked out toward the ocean, listening to the waves. "I've never done anything like this before."
"Beach vacation?"
"Family vacation," I corrected. "Growing up, our trips were more like military operations. Schedules, itineraries, my father checking his Blackberry every five minutes. This is... different."
"Different how?"
I thought about it, trying to put into words what I was feeling. "Peaceful. Like the point is just to be together, not to accomplish something or check items off a list." I glanced at him. "Like maybe I've been missing out on something important."
Nate reached over and took my hand. "Well, you're here now."
"Yeah," I said, squeezing his fingers. "I am."
We sat there until the campground settled into evening quiet, just holding hands and listening to the ocean.
Tomorrow would bring more beach time, more laughter, more of whatever this was we were building together.
But for now, it was enough to sit here in the soft darkness with this man and his daughter who were somehow becoming my family too.
For the first time in my adult life, I wasn't thinking about what came next or what I should be doing differently. I was just grateful for what I had right here, right now.