Page 84 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

Because for a moment, I thought that I was a princess. That Blake was my prince. And that somehow, we’d found our happily ever after.

Instead, I’m just a small-town girl who fell in love with a guy she shouldn’t have.

“Why did I have to love him?” I whisper to no one in particular. At least I never was so foolish as to confess it out loud to Blake.

I step away from the bookcase and head for the window, where I find a fabulous view of the backyard. There’s a huge tree growing tall and strong there. It’s been here as long as I can remember, deep roots in the ground of Hallmark Beach, just like me. Wrapping my arms around myself, I press my forehead to the window, feel the waning warmth of the day seep into my skin.

In this moment, I just want my mama.

The realization startles me. I’ve tried really hard not to need her. Mama gets overwhelmed easily by life, so I never wanted to be a bother, for her to stay away because I’m too much.

But yeah. Right now, I do need her.

With trembling hands, I take my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and lower myself onto Scarlett’s bed, which is covered in a fairy princess comforter. Because of course it is.

I blink at the phone and finally swipe to unlock it. Then, before I can stop myself, I dial.

The phone rings. And rings. And rings.

And goes to voicemail.

“Hi there, darling, you’ve reached Patti Reynolds Kotula. I’m off gallivantin’, so you just leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can, all right? Hugs and kisses.” Before the message cuts off, there’s a low murmur—Kevin saying something in the background—and a giggle from Mama.

I click off, toss my phone to the end of the bed, and stare numbly at a picture of a green-haired fairy watering a flower with her red wand.

“Knock, knock.”

I glance up to find Aunt Bea standing in the doorway. Her gray hair is pulled back in a ponytail just like mine, and she’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, just like me, along with a long-sleeved flannel shirt.

“Oh, hi,” I say. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be in here.”

“Stop it, honey.” She steps inside and closes the door behind her. “This will always be your room, no matter who’s livin’ in it.”

My lip trembles.

She sits beside me on the bed, pats my thigh. “You seemed distracted at dinner. Sad.”

Understatement of the year. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Never apologize for feeling something, or for expressing it.” Aunt Bea clicks her tongue at me. “You know, you’ve always been such a light to us all, but that doesn’t mean you have to be sunny all the time. Embracing the negative emotions along with the good makes the good all the better.”

I guess I can see that. Using the tips of my fingers, I swipe tears from my lashes.

“So what’s making my Lucy so sad tonight?”

Her Lucy. Oh, man. The tears start up again. Thanks a lot, Aunt Bea. I shrug and try for a grin. “What else? Boy troubles.”

“The same boy who made you sad all those years ago, I reckon.”

My gaze kicks up to her knowing one. I never talked to my aunt about Blake back then. “How did you…?”

“Please.” She taps the side of her temple. “I have eyes, child. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you love him. That you’ve always loved him.” She tilts her chin down. “But that’s not the problem, is it?”

I shake my head and start to sob. She pulls me into her embrace and lets me cry into her shoulder, whispering, “Shh, shh, there, there” over and over again. Finally, I’m ready to tell her, and it all spills out. Every last detail, right up until the second before she walked in after I tried—and failed—to get a hold of Mama.

She sighs and wipes my tears with her shirt sleeves, which are softer than they look. “Lucy, I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.”

I shake my head, which is fuzzy in the way that only crying so many tears can make it. “I’m hardly the first person to experience heartbreak in the world.”

---