Page 52 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

He means the pressure his dad put on him. Maybe he and Marilee didn’t talk about that, but I was in their home enough to see it.

“I miss her.” The words rush out, and then he’s focusing on the recipe again.

I can’t help but touch him, and this time, it’s not for my own selfish reasons, but for him. With a squeeze of his elbow, I lean my head against his arm. “I miss her too. Both of your parents. They were like my second pair. Well, my third, I guess, after Burt and Bea.”

He chuckles and lifts a knife to cut the baklava diagonally. “I think they liked you more than they liked me half the time.”

“Well, that’s certainly not true.” When he hands me the knife, I try to mimic his slicing but the knife sinks in too deep. With a grunt, I try again and this time, victory!

I finish up and stick the pan into the preheated oven, setting the timer for an hour as per the recipe.

While I’m doing that, Blake quickly creates a mixture of water and sugar in a saucepan and sets it to boil. “What did you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“That it wasn’t true. About my parents liking you better.”

“Oh.” Is it hot in here? “Nothing.”

“No, you were thinking of something specific.” He leans back against the counter, arms crossed. “You’re thinking of what you overheard that night, right?”

Immediately, I know the night—the overheard conversation—he’s referring to. “So you do remember.”

“I actually didn’t. Not until I overheard you and Marilee talking the other night in your room.” Now he has the decency to look chagrined.

“Blake Moffitt! You’re nothing but a…” Words escape me. Because I don’t quite remember what I said that night, but I do know it was not meant for his ears. Only Mare’s.

“Believe me, I know.” The mixture on the stovetop is boiling, and he flips the burner to simmer, then turns back to me. “The truth is, Lucy, I remember the conversation with my dad, but I don’t remember calling you annoying. If I really did that, then I was an idiot.”

Oh. “To be fair, it was your dad who called me annoying. You just sort of…didn’t contradict him.”

“Still. It wasn’t accurate.”

“So, you didn’t find me annoying?”

“Never.”

Hmm. I kind of like this groveling side of Blake. “What about now? Do you find me annoying now?”

“Maybe in a really cute sort of way.”

Laughing, I smack his arm. “Ha. Guess I wouldn’t blame you if you did find me annoying. I might too if I came home and found a crazy person crying in my kitchen.” Then I smile. “Thanks for the pity baklava, by the way.”

“It wasn’t pity baklava. If anything, it was apology baklava.” Then he takes my hand in his and stares at it, turning it over so my palm faces upward. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”

My throat feels like there’s a heartbeat inside of it, thrum, thrum, thrumming higher and higher. “Sorry for what?” Then, for levity’s sake, I add, “Finally admitting to stealing my customers?”

But he doesn’t even chuckle. Oh my. He really is sorry about something. He blinks at me. “For the past. For…flirting with you my whole senior year. For nearly kissing you, and then leaving without a word. I should have been man enough to tell you the truth. To tell you that even though I cared about you, I couldn’t be with you.”

Sweet macaroni. Did he just say that? Did he finally confirm that I wasn’t nuts back then? That I wasn’t just a girl with an unrequited crush, haplessly falling for her best friend’s older brother? That he felt it too? “I thought I’d imagined it.”

“You didn’t. But…” His stunted reply is clear this time.

“Nothing’s changed,” I say. He might still care about me, but he can’t be with me.

“I’m sorry.” Blake’s choking it out, so I know it’s not easy for him.

And though I wish I could change his mind, it’s probably better this way. “Don’t be.” Lifting up on my tiptoes, I skim my lips against his cheek in a soft kiss. “We’re good. I promise.”

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