Chapter 8
EIGHT
They headed for Sienna’s undisclosed location. On the way, they came to a stoplight next to a brand-new building.
“Wow, that’s some sexy construction,” Sienna said, sliding down her sunglasses and peering past Emily at the sleek structure that was nearly all glass and exposed beams.
A sign out front read, “Future home of The Low Tide Supper Club, a culinary evolution of Main Course.”
“That looks like it’s going to be fancy,” Emily said. “I’ll bet the musician will go there.”
“Probably,” Sienna said, squinting at the building.
“I don’t know,” Blair said from the backseat. “Does Luke Bryan like that sort of thing?”
Sienna turned around. “You’re trying to catch me, and I’m not telling you who owns that house!”
The light turned green.
“Sienna’s answer was ‘probably,’” Emily said. “So, what musician would probably go to that restaurant? What about that guy with the really gorgeous wife?”
“I know who you’re talking about.” Blair snapped her fingers. “He might. Hard to say.”
“Maybe all three of us could come back next year and see if we can catch him there,” Emily suggested. “Would he say hi if we were with you, Sienna?”
“I have no idea,” Sienna said with a laugh.
They pulled into a parking spot and got out of the car.
“Surprise!” Sienna waved her arms in front of a lavender storefront with lacy curtains and a neon ice-cream-cone-shaped sign by the door with the name Tropical Treat.
The place was brimming with tourists. Through the large window, pink-skinned vacationers filled the tables. They dipped their spoons into decadent bowls of confections—vanilla ice cream with whole pieces of cake on top and drizzled with chocolate, or milkshakes the size of milk cartons.
“We’re doing a sundae flight,” Sienna said.
Emily wrinkled her nose. “Flying ice cream?”
Blair let out a chuckle.
“I really need to get you into the Nashville bar scene,” Sienna said, shaking her head.
“A flight is a sampler of small-portioned drinks. But we’re doing sundaes instead of alcohol.
” With a dramatic flourish, she opened the door and ushered them into the pastel-colored interior that smelled of sprinkles and sugar.
“Oh, let’s grab that.” Blair slid onto a shiny booth that had opened just as they walked in. “I’ll hold our seats. I’m game for whatever. Surprise me.”
Emily and Sienna went to order.
“We have to pick five flavors,” Sienna said, peering up at the chalkboard menu with eight rows of options. “Any standing out for you?”
Emily studied the choices. “The Beach Bonfire S’mores looks good. ‘Toasted marshmallow ice cream with ribbons of melted chocolate and crushed graham cracker pieces, just like a summer night by the fire,’” she read.
“That does sound delicious.” Sienna pointed to the middle column. “How about Coconut Cabana Crunch? ‘Toasted coconut ice cream with macadamia nuts, white chocolate chips, and a caramel drizzle.’”
Emily nodded enthusiastically. “We only get five? We might need two flights.” She read the next on her list: “We have to get Sunset Sorbet Swirl. ‘A dreamy mix of mango, raspberry, and peach sorbet in a creamy vanilla base, swirling like a summer sunset.’”
When it was their turn, they settled on their last two: Strawberry Picnic Shortcake and Boardwalk Breeze.
They put in their order, and one of the Tropical Treat crew got to work on their selections, pulling out a miniature teal-and-yellow surfboard with divots to hold the mini sundae glasses.
With precision, she placed each glass into its spot and then with scoops, ladles, squirt bottles, and finally a spray of whipped cream, she handed over the flight, along with a handwritten explanation card, a pile of napkins, and three long-handled spoons.
Sienna took it to the booth Blair was holding for them and placed it in the middle of the table.
“I have to get a photo of this,” Blair said, wide-eyed. “It’s adorable.”
Emily and Sienna stepped aside so Blair could capture the purple-striped wall and bright-green-and-pink flowering plants in the background. Then, they sat down and each took one of the spoons.
Blair waved them together. “Get close. I want a photo of you two.”
Sienna and Emily posed for the shot.
Emily took that second to commit the moment to memory. “This trip really does feel like a turning point,” she said. It was a line dividing who she thought she’d be and who she would become. “Thank goodness for you two. I couldn’t have managed without you.”
“Of course.” Blair set her phone on the booth seat beside her. “Back at ya.”
Sienna leaned on the table. “Truly. This trip couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. I needed to get used to the idea of this baby before I told Tyson. And I couldn’t have done it without the support of you two.”
“How do you feel about motherhood, really?” Emily asked.
“I never saw myself with children, but the idea is growing on me. Having a family feels more natural every day. I just hope Tyson will feel the same with time.” She shook her head.
“He said before that he doesn’t want kids and, until now, I was fine with that.
But now, I’m not. I’m changing the game, and he doesn’t have a say. ”
“Just be honest with him,” Blair said. “He might come around.”
Sienna blinked away tears. “And if he doesn’t?
I’ll be forced to trade the happiness I chose for myself for an unknown.
I have no idea what kind of mother I’ll be, and, for that matter, what kind of father Tyson will be.
If he doesn’t want to be a father, what will his involvement with this baby be? ”
“Those are big questions,” Emily said. “And they’re only answered by Tyson.”
Sienna picked up her spoon. “I’ve already broken the rules of our little game. We were supposed to purposely leave our baggage behind during our outings, remember?”
“It’s okay,” Emily said. “But we should get on with it before our ice cream melts.”
Blair raised her spoon. “Cheers.”
They each dug into the first sundae—Beach Bonfire S’mores—and filled their spoons, tapping them together and then, in unison, had a taste.
The vanilla flavor of the airy marshmallow and the rich, creamy ice cream, combined with the honey crunch of the graham crackers and drizzle of chocolate, tickled Emily’s senses. “I rate the s’mores one a five out of five.”
“Same,” Blair said, going back for another spoonful.
Just then, a stream of light hit her face as the door opened, and a little boy of about five with freckles and sandy-brown hair ran in, laughing. He came to a halt at the counter, barely able to see over it on his tiptoes.
The Tropical Treat server leaned in to make eye contact with the adorable boy. “Well, hello, Winston. How are you today?”
“Good,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
Emily was just about to comment on how cute he was when a man stepped up behind the boy and picked him up to view the choices.
“Can you see better now?” he asked, his navy tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve as he steadied the boy.
“Yes!” Winston giggled.
“We’re glad you stopped by,” the attendant said. “I know you’ve been busy.” She gave Patrick a smitten smile.
“Winston’s been helping me on-site today, and this is his treat for all his hard work.” That familiar voice sailed toward Emily.
“How’s it all coming along? I’ve been seeing the advertisements.”
“Good,” he said in his usual short but polite tone. He said to Winston, “What sounds good to ya?”
The boy eyed the pictures along the wall. “That one. I remember it. The Wave Whipper,” he replied.
“The Wave Whipper? You can’t eat all that,” Patrick teased, tickling his sides and making the boy shriek with laughter and dart away.
Emily struggled to take her eyes off him. He was a completely different person with that little boy than the man she’d met. He was relaxed, happy. The sight of it intoxicated her with interest.
Patrick laughed. “I guess we’ll have two Wave Whippers to go, please.” He pulled out his credit card and paid for their order.
“Can we go to the beach, Uncle Patrick?” the boy asked, tugging on the hem of Patrick’s T-shirt.
“Not today, bud. I’ve got a little more work to do.”
Winston pouted. “Can’t we finish later?”
“It’ll get too late, and I have more work tonight. Your mom’s class will be done soon anyway. But if you want to, you can shoot basketballs again while I finish up.”
The boy brightened. “Okay.”
“I promise we’ll go this weekend.”
Emily was riveted. She’d never been one way with one person and then completely different with another.
But Patrick was cold to her and so warm and lovely to this little boy.
Why? It was as if someone had turned on a light inside him, a light she hadn’t been able to reach.
She didn’t need to reach it—who was she to him?
But the difference in him with this boy was enough to pique her curiosity about him to immense levels.
“What are the odds we’d see him here?” Sienna whispered.
But Emily barely heard her.
The worker handed Patrick two large cups with domed lids full of whipped cream, a long spoon coming through the center. “Thank you.” He turned around and stopped in his tracks when he met Emily’s stare.
She offered a little wave.
With a reserved smile—a stark contrast to the one he’d given the boy—he nodded and then took Winston’s hand and moved swiftly toward the exit. “Ready to have some ice cream and then shoot basketballs?” Patrick asked, his entire attention back on the boy as he pushed open the door.
“Rude,” Sienna said. “He’s going to cook for us tonight. The least he could do is come over and say hello. He clearly saw you, Em.”
“Maybe since he was with the little boy, he decided not to mix work and pleasure,” Emily said, although she, too, would’ve liked him to say hello.
Had she done or said something that had made him so standoffish?
Could that be what he’d told his friend Mark about?
She racked her brain for anything he might have taken offense to, but she came up empty.
After seeing him with Winston, she had to wonder, though.
“It is kind of a weird situation,” Blair added. “He isn’t even really working for us, but he’s been roped into it. He probably isn’t sure whether to treat us like customers or strangers.”
Perhaps Blair was right; that could very well be the reason for his cold reception. Maybe he didn’t enjoy chatting with tourists. After all, the area seemed like a small town in a lot of ways, and surely every summer the residents were overrun by all the vacationers.
“Hello-o.” Sienna’s hand waved in front of Emily’s view of the door. “Earth to Emily.”
She yanked her attention back to the table.
“You got the hots for Mr. Grumpy?” Sienna asked, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
“What?” Her face heated. “No, of course not. I was just still wondering why he wasn’t friendlier with us.” She sunk her spoon into the second flavor. “What’s this one?”
“Changing the subject… Subtle.” Sienna snorted.
“I’m not. I’m focusing on us.”
“Fair enough.” Blair tapped the handwritten paper. “This one’s Sunset Sorbet Swirl.”
Emily took a bite, ignoring Sienna’s appraising stare. She should be focused on her two friends and not the chef. They had her back no matter what, and this was their time. Concentrating on that, she fell into conversation with the two people who mattered most.