7. Lucy
7
LUCY
Sunday mornings at the Anderson house usually have a cozy kind of chaos. It’s one of the few times when the boys are allowed to watch cartoons and just chill. But, right now, Miles and Finn are bickering over which cereal tastes better, and Joel’s gruff morning voice is cutting through the noise with his signature "Let’s not argue before breakfast" line. But today, the atmosphere feels heavier, weighed down by the announcement looming on Monday.
Joel’s trying to act normal, but I can see it, the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he’s been rubbing the back of his neck like it’s carrying the weight of the world. He’s barely spoken to me since last night, and it’s starting to gnaw at me.
As I pour myself a cup of coffee, an idea takes root. Joel needs a break, something to clear his head. And I need… I need him to remember he can lean on me when things get rough.
“What if we went to Moonstone Beach today?” I suggest, keeping my tone casual. “The boys could run around, get some fresh air. It would be good for all of us.”
Joel glances up from his coffee mug, his green eyes narrowing slightly like he’s trying to figure out if there’s a catch.
“It’s supposed to be chilly,” he says, his voice noncommittal.
“We’ll bundle up,” I counter, refusing to back down. “You could use the distraction, and the boys will love it. Come on, Joel. Say yes.”
Miles perks up from the kitchen table. “Are we going to the beach?”
“Maybe,” Joel mutters.
“Please, Dad?” Finn pleads, his eyes wide and hopeful.
Then both boys start chanting, “Say yes, say yes.”
Joel sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “Alright. But we’re stopping at Costco first.”
I hide my grin behind my coffee cup, pretending not to notice the way his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile of his own.
Costco on a Sunday is its own brand of chaos, but the boys are in heaven. Miles insists on pushing the cart, steering it like a racecar while Finn piles in anything that catches his eye. Joel keeps a running tally of what’s actually necessary, his expression equal parts amused and exasperated.
“Do we really need a giant pack of granola bars?” he asks as Finn tries to sneak one into the cart.
“Yes,” Finn says with absolute conviction.
“No,” Joel replies, plucking it out and setting it back on the shelf.
I stifle a laugh, leaning closer to Joel as we navigate the crowded aisles. “You’re outnumbered, you know.”
He glances at me, his green eyes softening just enough to make my heart flutter. “Story of my life.”
By the time we’ve wrangled everything we need and survived the checkout line, the boys are begging for lunch. We stop at a local deli on the way to the beach, picking up sandwiches, chips, and cookies. The scent of fresh-baked bread fills the car, mingling with the salty tang of the ocean as we pull into the parking lot at Moonstone Beach.
The fall air is crisp, the kind that nips at your nose and cheeks but feels refreshing at the same time. I wrap my scarf tighter as we step onto the sand, the boys already darting ahead to explore. The waves crash against the shore, their rhythmic roar both soothing and exhilarating.
Joel carries the picnic bag, his stride steady and purposeful. I fall into step beside him, stealing glances when I think he’s not looking. There’s something about him in this moment—the way the wind ruffles his dark hair, the sharp lines of his jaw softened by the sunlight—that makes it impossible to look away.
We find a spot near the dunes to lay out our blanket. The boys waste no time kicking off their shoes and digging in the sand, their laughter ringing out over the waves. Joel and I sit side by side, unpacking lunch and watching the chaos unfold.
“They’re going to sleep well tonight,” I say, smiling as Finn proudly displays a lopsided sandcastle.
“That’s the plan,” Joel says, his voice low and warm.
I glance at him, and for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hangs between us. He’s so close, his arm brushing mine, and I can feel the pull—that magnetic tension that’s been building since the day I walked back into his life.
“Joel,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to carry the weight of everything on your own.”
He turns to me, his green eyes searching mine. “What weight?”
“Carrying everything,” I say, gesturing vaguely. “The boys, the house, the promotion… me. You don’t have to carry me, Joel.”
His brow furrows, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Lucy, you’re not a burden. If anything, you make it easier.”
The honesty in his voice takes my breath away. Before I can overthink it, I lean in, my lips brushing his in a soft, tentative kiss. He freezes for a heartbeat, and then he’s kissing me back, his hand cupping my cheek, his touch both firm and gentle.
It’s over too quickly, the sound of the boys’ laughter pulling us back to reality. I pull away, my cheeks burning, but Joel’s gaze is steady, his expression unreadable.
“Ewww, Yuck,” Miles says which is then echoed by Finn.
“We should…” I trail off, gesturing toward the boys.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice hoarse. “We should.”
But neither of us moves, the moment stretching out like the tide, holding us in its grasp.
The drive home is quieter, the boys tired from their adventures and the car filled with the soft sound of the radio. Joel’s hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles pale, but his expression is calm. I steal glances at him, my heart still racing from the kiss.
When we pull into the driveway, the boys tumble out of the car, their energy returning in bursts as they race toward the house. Joel and I linger for a moment, the silence between us filled with everything we can’t say.
“Thanks for today,” he says finally, his voice low.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I reply. “I… I just wanted to help.”
His lips twitch like he wants to smile, but he doesn’t. Instead, he nods and follows the boys inside, leaving me standing in the driveway, the fall air swirling around me.
I stand there for a moment, watching the last sliver of daylight disappear behind the trees. There’s something about today that feels different. It’s both thrilling and terrifying.
When I finally step inside, the house is warm and alive with the sound of the boys’ laughter. Joel is in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He glances up when I walk in, his green eyes meeting mine. For a second, the world fades, and it’s just us.
“Lucy,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the noise.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll deal with the boys tonight. You go get some rest, you deserve it,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest smile.
I nod, my heart pounding as I retreat to my room. As I close the door behind me, I lean against it, my mind replaying the kiss, the look in his eyes, the way his voice softened when he said my name. I’ve been in love before, but this… this feels like something else entirely.