Page 81 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

She doesn’t say that last part, but she doesn’t have to.

Now I get it. She’s thinking about how her mom left, supposedly for a summer, and never came back again except for random visits. She all but abandoned her daughter, and like Lucy said…it happened slowly.

She doesn’t want that pain again. And I get it. But she’s not being fair. I’m standing here, trying to commit to her, to this, and she’s acting like it’s nothing. “Lucy,” I say softly, reaching for her hand. But she doesn’t give it to me. I sigh, frustration clinging to the edges. “I’m not your mom. This isn’t the same.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“No. It’s not.”

“Even if it’s not, it’s clear to see that we want different things. And that’s not just something one of us can compromise on.”

Is that the crux of it, then? As much as I care for her—as much as I want to make this work—is it really so impossible? She wants to be here. I have to be in Los Angeles.

I want to be in Los Angeles.

Don’t I? It’s what I’ve wanted for so long. Can I really even consider giving it up to be here with her? What if things didn’t work out between us? Would I still be happy here, running my food truck business, living near my sister?

I rub my forehead. “I need time to think.”

“Time’s up, Blake. You made sure of that when you decided to leave earlier than planned without talking to me about it first.” She cocks her head. “I really do wish you well, and I’m not mad, okay? Just sad. But let’s part as friends this time.” She’s whispering now. “I don’t think I could bear to be your enemy again.”

And then, she’s slipping from the room, leaving me with a hollow ache I don’t know what to do with. So I do the only thing I can.

I head to the kitchen…and start to cook.

* * *

Maybe Dad was right.

Love is a distraction. Because the last four days without Lucy in them have been miserable, and despite several calls with Dale, I can’t think about much else than her.

“Earth to Blake.”

I snap my head around from where I’m standing in front of a dart board, holding several darts in my hand. Jordan’s next to a refrigerator in his garage, which he’s transformed into the ultimate “man cave”—boasting a black couch and TV, pool table, and speakers hooked up in the corners.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“You want something to drink?” With the fridge door propped open, Jordan holds up a Dr. Pepper in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other.

“Sure, I’ll take the Dr. Pepper.” Lucy would tease me about that choice—to her, Diet Coke is the be all and end all of sodas.

Aw, man. Even here, at a last-minute guys’ night, I can’t escape the thought of her.

Jordan flicks a look at Frederick and Landon, who are engaged in a competitive game of pool. “How about you guys?”

Landon’s got on his standard outfit of jeans, a black T-shirt, and his faithful Stetson, while Frederick has long ditched the black suits I hear he used to wear when he was Chloe’s bodyguard for gym shorts and a tee.

They both wave him off, too focused on their game. Landon’s taunting Frederick, and Frederick is all narrowed vision and concentration.

Shrugging, Jordan shuts the fridge and carries the drinks to me. He hands me the Dr. Pepper and takes the Diet Coke for himself, popping the top and taking a swig before setting it on a cocktail table near the dart board.

“Thanks, man.” I chug my own soda, letting the carbonation burn a trail down my throat. “And thanks for inviting me over. I definitely needed the distraction.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do before leaving in a few days.” Jordan picks up a few red darts from the table. “You gonna be busy tomorrow with all the festival prep?” He squares up with the dart board, eases his arm back, and launches one. His dart lands on one of the outside rings.

“Not really. I already bought all the supplies for the burgers and organized all the inventory, and Tiny and I are going to tag-team cooking burgers the day of since his trip to visit his nephew got postponed. As for the rest, Thomas is taking care of the brownies, and Lucy’s doing everything else. Chips, drinks, recruiting volunteers to run the food tent, that sort of thing. I think she’s been helping Chloe with a bunch of other non-food related stuff too.” Or so I’ve heard through the grapevine of Marilee.

“Makes me glad I’m only in charge of the volleyball tournament.” Jordan sinks another dart into the board, this one closer to center.

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