Page 77 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

“Oh. Well, I don’t know about love.” Or do I?

Marilee rolls her eyes. “Girl, I’ve seen the way you look at him. The way he looks at you. And I’d love nothing more than for you to be legally my sister someday—even though you’re already the sister of my heart.”

Ugh, this woman. I bring it in for a fierce hug around her neck before pulling back. I rub the edge of my sandwich wrapper between my fingers. “I’m scared, Mare. What you said about me not living here anymore…well, we haven’t even discussed that at all. Like, I don’t know where his head is at. What if he just plans to leave again, no matter what?”

“Are you thinking he’ll change his mind or something?” Mare pushes her glasses up her nose. “You knew from the beginning he was leaving at the end of the summer. Is it really fair to assume he’ll change all his plans? This is his dream, Lucy.” Her tone is soft, her eyes filled with love. In only the way that Mare can, she speaks truth without being harsh.

“I know, but…does he just think I’ll up and move away from the only place that’s ever felt like home? Because that doesn’t seem fair either.”

“Maybe he’s just thinking you’ll do long distance for a bit.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” But long distance is only a temporary solution. We both know that. And I’m not a planner by any means, but I am excellent at keeping those low expectations. At creating situations that will result in the least amount of hurt later.

Is it who I am, or a learned behavior after the upheavals in my childhood and teenage years? Either way, I’m not sure I like this particular personality trait.

“It sounds like you guys need to have a really open discussion about all of this,” Marilee says.

“You’re right.” I know she is. “But what if we find out we really can’t work it out? That we want different things? Because that’s terrifying.” The idea that I’ve finally found the man of my dreams…and might lose him in one fell swoop.

“Better to find out now that you want different things than after you’ve been married for six years.” Her words are soft, but sure. “And, yes, it’s scary to take a chance on love. But Lucy Reynolds, you’re one of the bravest people I know.”

There she goes again with the irony. “I don’t feel very brave.”

“That’s the thing about bravery. You’re scared…and do what scares you anyway.”

Okay, then. Looks like I’m having a conversation with Blake about the future.

And soon, before I lose my nerve.

twenty-seven

BLAKE

I’m not one to play hooky from work. Don’t think I’ve done it a day in my life.

Until now.

It’s eleven a.m. on a Wednesday, and I’m still in my gym shorts and a T-shirt—basically what I wore to bed. Since I returned from Los Angeles last night, Lucy and I have been up this morning cooking and bantering and kissing. Making up for lost time.

Because the whole time I was gone, all I could think about was getting home to her.

The radio’s on low in the kitchen while I stack the last of the breakfast dishes—sticky with pancake syrup and egg yolk—in the sink. Turning, I find a pajama-clad Lucy at my elbow, our empty coffee mugs in her hand. She hip bumps me and I step out of the way, but only just enough for her to slide her body in front of mine.

She places the mugs in the sink, and I lean forward to trap her there, my hands on either side of her, her back against my chest.

This should be absolute heaven. After all, I missed Lucy something fierce while I was in Los Angeles.

But while I’ve tried to push the events of my visit to the city out of my brain this morning—even for a little while—I can’t forget one little fact.

Lucy and I need to talk.

Ugh. Can’t I just stay here in this bubble with her and deny my responsibilities, deny that a world outside of this one even exists?

I lean in and place a kiss on her shoulder, then nuzzle my nose against her neck. After being apart the last two days, I can’t not touch her. When it comes to Lucy Reynolds, I’m a weak man.

Lucy leans her head to the side, giving me enough access to press my lips to her skin. Her tiny sigh of pleasure stokes the heat inside of me, and I nip my way up her long, graceful neck. Then she turns to face me, slipping one hand around me, her fingers flirting with the back of my shirt collar.

Yeah, we can talk later.

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