Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(50)

She swiped her streaming hair out of her eyes and lifted her face to the sun, blinking in the light. She heard John hooting and shouting her name behind her. Her heart expanded, and as she waved back she grinned so wide her cheeks hurt.

Euphoria, she thought, feeling like she had entered a new world of indescribable beauty. This is my ocean. She turned her surfboard, knowing which direction she wanted to go. She began paddling hard, feeling no fatigue, only a driving desire to get back out on the breakers.

“Come on, Big Blue. We’ve got this.”



Chapter Twelve



Turtles do cry, but not because they’re sad. They have glands that help empty excess salt from their eyes, which look like tears.

“YOU’VE GOT COMPANY,” said Emmi.

Cara leaned over the counter and looked out the kitchen window to see a black Land Rover pull up the drive. She felt a flutter of anticipation at seeing David, not that she’d ever admit that to Emmi Baker Peterson.

“It’s David and Rory.”

Emmi lowered her coffee mug with interest. It was Emmi’s free day, and they’d been catching up over coffee and a seven-layer caramel cake from Caroline’s Cakes. Cara never took a bite of her favorite cake without remembering Caroline Ragsdale Reutter. She missed her former Ashley Hall friend. As she tasted the cake’s sweetness she thought how sad it was that the best—like Caroline and Brett—went young.

“This has become a regular thing, hasn’t it?” asked Emmi. “It’s been, what . . . a few weeks now?”

“Yes,” replied Cara, opening the cabinet and pulling out a fresh mug.

“And you’re still calling it playdates?”

Cara looked at her askance. “What do you mean, calling it playdates? That’s what they are.”

“Come on,” Emmi chided, nudging her. “We both know he’s coming to see you. Rory is but a hostage to his romantic schemes.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Cara scolded her. “If you think that, then you’re saying I’m holding Hope hostage too.”

Emmi wiggled her brows.

“You’re hopeless. David and I are simply taking the children out together.” She set the Juliska mug on the table beside a matching white plate. “You know, I had no idea there was this whole other side to the Charleston area.”

“The one meant for little kids and their parents,” Emmi said sarcastically, biting into her cake. Some of the cake flaked off onto her shirt, and she nonchalantly brushed the crumbs from her chest.

Cara laughed. “Exactly. This whole being a mom thing is new to me, and it’s so much nicer doing these outings with a friend. David is a font of knowledge about wherever we go. You know,” she said in a distant tone, “it’s been a while since a man’s intellect challenged my own. And we enjoy each other’s company. David’s a very nice man.”

“Uh-huh,” Emmi drawled. She looked out the window and watched as David pulled Rory out of his car seat. “He’s dreamy. That’s what he is.” She straightened. “And he’s got a nice butt.” She popped the last of her cake into her mouth.

Cara snorted and leaned over the counter again. She watched David with Rory in his arms swing the car door shut and walk toward the house. He was wearing black jeans that showed off his long legs and a plain white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up. He’d told her he had a closet full of Brooks Brothers button-downs from his working days that were the most comfortable shirts he owned. So he wore them rolled up at the sleeves and didn’t care if they got stained.

“Yes, he is,” Cara admitted with a sigh. “And I don’t quite know what to do about how he makes me feel.”

“Honey, you don’t have to do anything.”

Cara looked at her best friend and wanted to share with her how these feelings for David made her feel like she was somehow betraying Brett. But the doorbell rang, cutting off further conversation.

Hope looked up sharply from her high chair, eyes wide and alert. Cara pushed off from the counter. “Watch her a sec, will you?” Cara asked Emmi, and hurried to the front door.

“Right on time,” she said, swinging wide the door.

“I take no credit,” David said, walking in with Rory in his arms. “The ferry leaves the dock at nine o’clock sharp.”

As he walked by her, she caught the scent of his cologne. It was very subtle and, she knew, expensive.

“I’ve got cake and coffee in the kitchen,” she told him. “And Emmi’s here.”

She followed David into the kitchen and watched as he walked straight to Emmi and planted a kiss on her upturned cheek. Cara smiled as they exchanged pleasantries, glad he got along with her friends. Then he bent toward Hope.

“Good morning, Miss Hope,” he said, and gently kissed the top of her head.

Hope leaned far back against the chair and lowered her chin, looking up at him coyly. Her dark lashes fluttered.

“She’s such a flirt,” Cara said with a light laugh. “And how are you, young man?” she asked Rory. Rory looked back at her with his round blue eyes. “Would you like a piece of caramel cake?” She turned to David. “Oops, is that all right, Pops?” she asked, using the name Rory called him.

He grimaced. “Maybe just a bite. He’s got a real sweet tooth and Heather’s pretty firm on her no-sugar policy.”