Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
Kiera
The soft hum of waves greeted them as they stepped into the beach house, late afternoon sunlight streaming through the massive floor-to-ceiling glass doors that opened onto a patio overlooking the Pacific. The home was luxurious yet warm, with terrazzo tile floors; a minimalist modern kitchen; and colorful, plush furnishings that contrasted beautifully against the soft neutral tones of the walls. But all Kiera could focus on was the awkward tension filling the air as the group settled in.
Pete clapped her hands together, surveying the open-plan layout. “This is it, folks! Home sweet home for the next few days. Let’s not burn it down.”
Danica laughed, nudging Pete with her elbow. “No promises.” Her smile softened as Pete leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek, whispering something that made Danica laugh even harder. The ease and affection between them were palpable, a quiet reminder of how far they’d come since Telluride. They moved in sync, as though they shared an unspoken language, and Kiera couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy — not in a bitter way, but in a way that reminded her of everything she’d lost.
Maggie walked toward the doors, sighing dramatically as she took in the ocean view. “I might just stay out there and become a beach hermit. Y’all can send me snacks.”
Kiera smiled faintly as she set her bags in the entryway, trying to stay unobtrusive. She could feel Izzy’s gaze flit toward her and then away just as quickly. The dismissal stung more than she’d expected, though she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Izzy hadn’t said much to her during the car ride from the airport, offering only clipped responses to Kiera’s attempts at conversation.
“Bedrooms are upstairs,” Pete announced, already climbing the sleek wooden staircase. “Who’s bunking with who?”
“Izzy, Maggie, and Kiera each get their own room,” Danica said, glancing at Pete with a playful smirk. “And that leaves us sharing, obviously.”
Pete grinned mischievously. “Wendell, I’m pretty sure there’s bunk beds in one of these rooms.”
Danica rolled her eyes, swatting Pete’s arm.
Maggie, Kiera, and Izzy all groaned. Pete had been stuck with the bunk room at Aunt Jade's condo in Telluride — bunk beds that saw Danica and Pete’s… reconnection. Kiera had opted to leave an extremely large Venmo tip for the cleaning company. She didn't want to know any details about what had happened on those bunk beds. And now, seeing Pete and Danica happily together made Kiera feel awkward and out of place — their happiness felt like a glaring spotlight on everything she'd almost messed up back in Telluride. Everything that everyone here was either trying to ignore or still holding a quiet grudge about.
“Guess it’s all sorted,” Maggie said, grabbing her bag. “Now I’m off to claim the room with the best view.”
The group dispersed to claim a room and unpack. Kiera wandered upstairs, tossing her bag onto the bright white bedding in a random room. She stood at the window for a moment, staring out over Pacific Beach. The afternoon sun glittered on the water, where surfers carved through gentle waves with practiced ease. She could hear faint laughter and shouts carried by the breeze.
She watched as one surfer stood smoothly, riding a wave all the way to the shore before hopping off with casual confidence. Kiera’s chest tightened. There was something beautiful about the effortless grace of it, about the way these strangers seemed so comfortable, so at home on the water. She’d spent so long feeling like an outsider in her own life, like she was always paddling against the current and barely keeping afloat. Here, on this beach, it seemed like everyone else had already found their rhythm.
The thought brought a lump to her throat, and she pressed her hand against the cool glass of the window, grounding herself. She could do this. She could find her own rhythm again, even if it was uncomfortable. The beach trip was supposed to be a step forward, a way to reconnect with her friends and with who she was before her marriage. She just hadn’t expected it to feel so hard.
When she’d found out about Alex’s affair, she hadn’t even wanted to get divorced at first. It felt unbearable, like an insurmountable wall. Her marriage seemed like something she should be able to work through, like the affair was just another hurdle. After she’d returned home from Telluride, Danica’s quiet voice in her head felt more like a scream — “ As a child of divorced parents, I can assure you it sucks, but it would have been worse to see my parents fight and be miserable all the time. ”
Danica was right. Her girls deserved better, and more than that, they deserved for her to be a better role model.
In the end, divorce felt mostly like running face first into that insurmountable wall, over and over, and then eventually just bursting through Kool-Aid Man-style, leaving all of the chaos and destruction in her wake.
The playful banter downstairs eventually drew her out of the room, and Kiera walked back to join the group. Pete and Izzy were passing a soccer ball inside, Danica was in the kitchen, and Maggie was sitting on a bar stool with a glass of wine in hand.
“Kiera!” Pete called, kicking the ball toward Izzy. “She emerges. Hey, I forgot to ask earlier — how’s life in Hippieville?”
“It’s good,” Kiera said with a long exhale. “Mom’s been fermenting her own kombucha. Dad’s building a chicken coop in the backyard.”
“Do you have chickens?”
“No, oddly enough. I fear it may be a very subtle attempt at making an ADU for me,” Kiera admitted.
Maggie laughed. “Are they hoping you’ll be laying eggs as rent?”
“I, for one, would like to try the kombucha,” Danica said. “What’s the flavor? Lavender? Elderberry? Grass clippings?”
Kiera snorted despite herself. “It’s turmeric and ginger, actually. Very earthy.”
“Sounds… healthy,” Maggie said, holding up her glass in a mock toast. “Wine’s healthier. Grapes, antioxidants, you know.”
“And no fermentation explosions,” Pete added with a grin.
“Let’s hope,” Kiera said, finally allowing herself a small smile.
“Alright, enough kombucha talk,” Maggie interjected. “Danica’s handling dinner, but I need someone to help with dessert. Any takers?”
“I’ll do it,” Kiera offered, eager to occupy herself with something other than awkward small talk.
“Perfect. Danica’s in charge of the main course, so she’ll let you know what’s off-limits. Just don’t let Pete near the frosting. She’ll eat half of it before it gets on the cake.”
“No trust!” Pete protested, holding her hands up in mock offense. “When have I ever done that?”
“Last week.” Danica shook her head.
Soon the group gathered in the open dining area, passing bowls of Danica’s coconut curry. The massive doors were open, letting the salty ocean breeze drift inside.
Pete grabbed a spoonful of curry and took a bite. Her eyes widened as the heat hit. “Damn, Wendell. Did you put ghost peppers in this?” she asked, coughing.
Maggie passed Kiera a bowl of extra coconut cream to add to her curry. Kiera hoped that they’d added milk to the Instacart order. If the curry was that spicy, they were going to need it.
“It’s just a little kick,” Danica said with a grin. “Can’t handle it?”
Pete’s expression turned competitive. “Are you challenging me?”
“Maybe I am,” Danica said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Bet you can’t eat a whole bowl without water.”
Maggie leaned back, laughing. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
“You’re on,” Pete said, digging in as the group cheered her on. Her nose began running — the first sign of trouble, sniffle by sniffle — and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Izzy handed her a napkin while Kiera shook her head, amused.
“You know, there’s no shame in bowing out,” Danica teased, clearly enjoying herself.
Pete stubbornly took another bite. “Never,” she said, though her voice was strained.
By the time she finished, Pete was gulping down water while the others laughed. “Alright, you win,” Pete admitted, wiping her face. “But next time, I’m cooking.”
The laughter felt easy, almost natural. Kiera relaxed, letting herself enjoy the moment. Maybe this weekend wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Maggie raised her glass, tilting it toward the center of the table. "Alright, now that Pete’s survived Danica’s inferno curry, how about a toast? To friendships that survive time, distance, and questionable spice levels."
Everyone laughed and clinked glasses, even Pete, who muttered, "My taste buds may never recover, but sure. To friendships."
"Do you guys remember our junior year winter break?" Maggie asked, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. "The road trip to New Mexico?"
Pete groaned. "The trip where Danica decided to trust her GPS over actual road signs and we ended up on that dirt road in the middle of nowhere, worried about an over-eager rancher who kidnapped us for torture?"
Danica shrugged unapologetically. "I stand by my decision. The GPS said it was faster."
"Faster to what? Ritualistic cult murder?" Pete teased, making everyone laugh.
"Hey, that detour was the highlight of the trip," Danica said, pointing her fork at Pete.
Pete winked with comic exaggeration. “I wouldn’t say it was the best part of the trip. There was that shitty motel, with those super springy beds, and you and I spent all night?—”
Danica flushed red, while Maggie and Izzy were openly cringing. Kiera interrupted Pete’s tangential trip down memory lane with, "We found that little diner.”
Maggie sighed dreamily. “The best pancakes I’ve ever had."
"And the worst coffee," Kiera added, smiling at the memory. "It tasted like it had been brewed with swamp water."
"But you drank three cups of it," Danica pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
"That was self-preservation," Kiera shot back. "I was the one driving while you all slept like babies."
"Not me," Maggie said. "I stayed up to keep you company."
"By playing the same five songs on repeat," Kiera replied, rolling her eyes. "I still can’t listen to Fleetwood Mac without hearing your off-key singing in my head."
Maggie feigned offense, clutching her chest. "Off-key? I’ll have you know, my rendition of ‘Dreams’ is iconic."
"Iconic is one word for it," Izzy said dryly, earning a laugh from Pete.
Familiar memories and jokes fueled easy conversation. At one point, Maggie’s phone buzzed, and she glanced down at it with a sigh. "Gwen says hi. She’s wrangling the kids into bed and wanted me to remind you all that you’re invited to Austin anytime."
"How are the twins?" Kiera asked, ignoring the unexpected pang she felt in her chest at the idea of having a caring spouse at home, parenting without worry.
"They’re absolute tyrants," Maggie said with a laugh. "Arlo’s figured out how to pick locks, so nothing is safe anymore, and Jude has decided he’s the boss of the household."
"Sounds like they’re taking after their mom," Pete said with a grin.
"Absolutely," Maggie said proudly, raising her glass again in acknowledgement.
“So, speaking of chaos — surfing tomorrow?” Pete asked between bites, grinning at Izzy. “We’re on Pacific Beach. It’d be criminal not to.”
“Obviously,” Izzy replied, her tone carrying a spark of enthusiasm for the first time that evening.
Danica raised an eyebrow. “What about paddle boarding? I saw a rental place down toward Mission Beach. Less chance of Maggie breaking an arm this time around.”
“Exactly!” Maggie chimed in. “I’m all for paddle boarding.”
Izzy snorted, leaning back in her chair. “What’s the point of coming here if you’re not going to surf? Tourmaline is essentially a beginner spot.”
Maggie stuck out her tongue. “Beginners like me don’t want to face-plant into a wave, thank you very much.”
Kiera hesitated before speaking up. “I think I’d prefer paddle boarding, too.” It seemed like the safest choice, both in the way of bodily harm and trying to reconnect with Danica and Maggie.
Izzy’s gaze flicked toward her, quick and unreadable. Kiera’s cheeks flushed with self-consciousness as she forced herself to focus on her meal.
Danica interjected. “Why don’t we just split up tomorrow? Surfers can surf, paddle boarders can paddle, and we can all meet up for lunch.”
“Works for me,” Pete said, raising her glass. “To whatever floats your board!”
The toast earned a round of laughter, though Kiera noticed that Izzy didn’t look her way again for the rest of the meal or during dessert. As they cleaned up and the group began to scatter for the evening, Kiera lingered in the kitchen, wiping down the counters as an excuse to stay busy. She could hear Danica and Pete laughing in the living room, their voices easy and familiar. Danica perched on the arm of Pete’s chair, her hand absentmindedly running through Pete’s curls as they FaceTimed Gladys, their dog.
Izzy and Maggie sprawled across the couch, reading separate sapphic romance novels. Apparently Maggie had gotten Izzy hooked on a new Australian author and they’d been voraciously reading a series together.
When she retreated to her own room to call her family, Kiera sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window at the dark expanse of ocean. The sound of the waves was soothing, but it couldn’t drown out the undercurrent of tension in the house. She'd planned to rebuild her friendships on this trip, but a mix of forced normalcy and Izzy's awkwardness made it far more complicated than anticipated. She reached for her phone and dialed home. Her mom answered on the second ring, her warm voice immediately bringing a sense of comfort. “Kiera! How’s the beach house?”
“It’s... nice,” Kiera said, leaning back against the headboard. “How are the girls?”
“Oh, they’re great. Hold on. Eliza, Quinn, come say hi to Mommy!”
There was a brief clatter on the other end, followed by Eliza’s excited voice. “Hi, Mommy! We’re painting rocks!”
“Painting rocks?” Kiera repeated, picturing the inevitable mess. “Where did you find rocks? And more importantly, why are you up so late?”
“Grandpa took us to the creek,” Eliza explained, her words tumbling out quickly. “And now we’re painting them to look like animals. Mine’s a chicken! She’s going to live in the new coop.”
Kiera couldn’t help but smile. “That sounds... fun. Are you making a mess?”
“No!” Eliza gasped in reply. “Grandma put down newspapers everywhere. Quinn got paint on her face, though.”
In the background, Kiera could hear her dad laughing and Quinn giggling loudly, followed by her mom’s voice saying, “It’s organic and made from eggs, don’t worry!”
Kiera shook her head, the image of her parents orchestrating this chaotic art project both heartwarming and mildly stressful. “Sounds like you’re all having a blast.”
“We are!” Eliza said. “Do you want me to save you a rock to paint when you get home?”
“Of course,” Kiera said softly. “I’d love that.”
Her mom came back on the line, her voice tinged with amusement. “Don’t worry about us, Kiera. The girls are doing fine and we’ve got everything under control. You just focus on relaxing and having a good time.”
Kiera hesitated, a small lump forming in her throat. “Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime, sweetheart. We love you.”
“I love you too,” Kiera replied, ending the call. She set the phone down on the nightstand and stared at it for a moment, her chest tight with conflicting emotions. Her parents were wonderful with the girls, and she was grateful beyond words for their help, but needing their help had only highlighted how much she still felt like she was barely keeping her head above water — both as a mother and as a person.
As she lay back against the pillows, Kiera closed her eyes and let the sound of the waves fill the room. She needed to figure out how to make things right — with herself, with her friends, and with everything else that had gone sideways in her life.