Page 40 of The Single Dad Grump Next Door

The next morning, I wake before the sun.

The house is quiet, the soft creak of the floorboards the only sound as I make my way to the back door. I step outside, breathing in the cool, salty air. I don’t know why I’m awake. It’slike something coaxed me out of my dreams and urged me out into the fresh morning.

The beach is deserted, the sand chilly beneath my bare feet as I walk toward the water. The horizon glows with the faintest hint of dawn, the sky painted in shades of pink and orange with haphazard streaks—an artwork by a careless giant.

It’s peaceful. For the first time in weeks, my mind feels still.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I turn, startled to see an older woman standing a few feet away. She’s dressed in flowing layers of green and brown, her silver hair loose around her shoulders. She glitters faintly in the dim light, thanks to the many silver bracelets and rings adorning her wrists and hands. A heavy amethyst stone hangs from her neck on a thin leather cord.

I blink fast, wondering if I’m still dreaming. But the woman merely smiles at me, so much serenity written into the delicate wrinkles on her face that I instantly feel inexplicably calm.

“I’m sorry,” I respond. “I didn’t see you there.”

Her smile widens, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t apologize, dear. The ocean has a way of pulling people toward it.”

I nod, unsure of what to say.

She tilts her head, studying me with a kind but piercing gaze. “Your heart is heavy.”

I stare at her. “What?”

“I can hear it,” she says simply. “It’s calling out in pain.”

My first instinct is to brush her off, but there’s something about her presence that’s somehow…more. Like she knows things that the average person doesn’t. Like she’s a servant of this earth, a creature from a fairy tale, and not just a typical townie.

“Who are you?” I dare to ask.

“Just an old woman who listens,” she says with a wink. “You’ll figure it out, dear. Whatever it is you’re searching for. The pain won’t last.”

Before I can respond, she turns and walks away, her footsteps light and unhurried.

I watch until she disappears into the morning mist, her words echoing in my mind like the lingering notes of a symphony long after the curtain has fallen.

When I finally turn to leave, I feel a small weight in my pocket.

Frowning, I reach in and pull out a smooth stone, its surface shimmering with shades of gold and brown. Tiger’s eye.

I turn it over in my hand, frowning, and yet somehow feeling oddly soothed at the same time.

Chapter Fourteen: Gabe

Truthfully, when I included the couple that Alina is staying with in the dinner invitation, I didn’t expect to like Andy.

At first glance, he’s everything I find exhausting in a person: upbeat, outgoing, and somehow always talking. He seems like the type who thrives on small talk and even more so on making others join in.

He also seems like the kind of guy who has never had a difficult time fitting in, socially speaking. He carries himself with an unshakeable confidence that I’ve learned to recognize as the sort of quality that lifelong popular kids have. That’s why I tend to avoid his type. Growing up a scrawny weird kid who liked to play the violin more than anything else, I didn’t exactly have an easy time in school. I wasn’t necessarily bullied, but I didn’t have many friends. It wasn’t until I went to Juilliard that I realized there were plenty of like-minded people in this world, and that I could avoid all the jocks and frat guys and social butterflies if I wanted to.

What I didn’t expect was that, somewhere between his rambling stories and his over-the-top enthusiasm about lacrossestrategies, I’d start finding his company pretty bearable. He’s more genuine than I assumed a guy like him would be—the sort of person who is so unapologetic about who they are that they’re incapable of ulterior motives.

It’s a quality I’ve learned to value, even if it comes packaged with an energy level I can’t hope to match.

Unfortunately, getting along with the similarly-aged man next door doesn’t just mean that I can live the rest of the summer in respectful camaraderie with the neighbors.

It means, apparently, that I have a new friend.

“Come on, man,” Andy says, slapping me on the shoulder like we’ve been pals for years. “Just one drink. You can’t stay cooped up in this house all summer.”

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