Page 69 of Changing Tides

“You could do with a dose of laid-back.”

“Because they’re easy, right?”

“Right.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon soaking up the golden rays and enjoying Leia’s play.

Amiya looks back at the guys, who are laser-focused on their opponents.

They joined us an hour ago and have already challenged the teens in a cutthroat game of volleyball. Leia is playing cheerleader on the sidelines as she watches the action while the two of us make our way back and forth to the tiki bar.

“That man looks at you like he wants to take another bite out of you,” she notes.

I glance over my shoulder, and Sebastian winks at me before his attention is pulled back into the game.

“Anson looks at you the same way,” I say.

She chuckles. “No, he doesn’t. We had a sloppy one-and-done night. You and Sebastian could be so much more.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” I say.

She turns to me and gives me her serious face. “Why not?”

“Because every day that we get closer is another day we get closer to the end,” I whisper.

The bartender arrives with our fruity concoctions.

“Oh, this looks amazing. Thank you, handsome,” Amiya coos, and he rewards her with a bright smile.

He places a cherry on top of each of our glasses and winks before rushing off to help other patrons.

Amiya picks up her cocktail, spins on her stool, and brings the straw to her lips.

“What if it doesn’t have to?” she asks.

I turn with her to face the intense volleyball game before us. Focusing on the way Sebastian’s muscles ripple with every serve and trailing the bead of sweat that travels down his chest and slips under the band of his low-slung swim trunks.

“What?” I ask.

She shrugs. “End. What if it doesn’t have to end?” she asks.

“It does,” I insist.

“Why?”

My eyes slide to her as tears begin to prick at the corners.

“You know why,” I whisper.

“You could always stay in North Carolina. Sell that stuffy apartment in New York and live off that while you work on your doctorate.”

“What happened to enjoying the moment and not overanalyzing?”

She shrugs. “I’m just thinking through all of the possibilities.”

“That is literally the definition of overanalyzing,” I quip. “Besides, I thought you wanted me to move back to Georgia.”

“I do, but what I want more than anything is for you to be happy. And this place is a lot closer to Georgia than New York.”

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