Page 52 of Changing Tides

“Don’t worry, LeLe. They’ll stop and get your ice cream while we get you into a bath to wash the sand and sunscreen off. We’ll cuddle in our pajamas and have ice cream while we watch a movie.”

Leia must like that idea because she lets go of Avie’s hand and takes hold of Amiya’s.

Avie reaches into the bag resting on her shoulder and hands a key chain to her friend.

Avie

“Here we are,” Sebastian says as we pull into the parking lot of Beaches & Cream.

He parks in front and turns off the ignition.

“Ice cream. Not exactly an exciting Saturday night nightcap for you,” I note.

“Are you kidding? I love ice cream, and we can take it home and share it with Leia. I owe her after all,” he says.

He hops out of the golf cart, and I follow him to the walk-up window.

“Welcome to Beaches & Cream. It’s the best ice cream on the island. Others claim to be homemade, but Beaches is the only one to actually make their ice cream from scratch every day. Simple ingredients. Great taste,” he explains.

“Wow, you sound like a commercial,” I muse.

“I might have worked here a summer or two when I was in high school,” he says.

“Hey, Sebastian. What can we get for you tonight?” the portly gentleman inside the window asks.

Sebastian leans against the wooden bar underneath the opening and turns to me. “What do you think? The Ocean Liner?”

I glance at the handwritten menu on the six-foot-tall chalkboard to our right. Under the heading for Banana Splits is a list of five options, starting with The Raft, which consists of half a banana, one scoop of ice cream, one topping with whipped cream, and a cherry on top; to The Titanic, which consists of three whole bananas, ten scoops of ice cream, ten toppings with whipped cream and cherries.

“The Ocean Liner has five scoops of ice cream. There’s only four of us and a tiny human,” I point out.

“Right. I forgot about Amiya and Anson,” he says as he turns back to the employee and slaps his hand on the bar. “Better make it a Titanic, Roy. To go.”

“Sebastian, we’ll never eat all of that!” I cry.

He pulls his wallet from his pocket and pays the man before turning back to me. “You’ve never seen me and Anson destroy a pint before. Besides, if we don’t finish it, I’m sure I can think of something to do with the extra whipped cream and cherries,” he whispers in my ear.

A thrill runs down my spine at his insinuation.

Instead of shrinking from his obvious flirting, I return his serve.

Batting my lashes in his direction, I bite my bottom lip.

“Sorry, but I have the best friend bunking with me tonight,” I break to him before walking around the corner of the building to the pickup window.

“Dammit, I should have gone for the nightcap at my place,” he mutters as he follows.

A teenage girl with braces hands us a white paper bag.

“Enjoy,” she says cheerfully.

I dig a ten-dollar bill from my wallet and drop it in the tip jar on the ledge as Sebastian loads up on napkins and plastic spoons from the cabinet by the picnic tables.

Sebastian chooses to take the long way back to the cottage, using the back road that follows the coast of the Intracoastal.

I find myself scooting into the heat of his side as I hold the doggie bag of frozen goodness in my lap. He lifts his arm onto the back of the seat and curls his hand around my shoulder, shielding me from the chilly breeze.

The moon is high in the sky and bathing the road in soft light as we cruise past the stilted homes with lit docks.

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