Page 66 of On The Beach

"Look, look, there's a pot calling the kettle black," I retorted in a sing-song manner.

"Come on, babe, you're here for dinner because hospital rules won't let you hang around for more than two shifts at the hospital," her husband reminded her.

"The lab needs to have rules like that," Anna muttered and waved at our server. When he came by, she pointed to the wine she wanted on the list.

"Good choice," he professed effusively and went to find the bottle in the restaurant cellar.

By the time our main courses arrived, I was even more sullen and both Anna and Dan were Team Mick.

"You're supposed to be on my side." I angrily glanceddown at my Dover sole. I wasn't even enjoying the subtle brown butter and lemon sauce; Mick's sudden re-entry to my life had made everything else seem like background noise.

"The parents are," Anna said cheerfully. "They don't think you should end up with a man without a career."

"Why would you tell them about Mick?" I groaned, rubbing my temples. "Why? No wonder Mama has been blowing up my phone, and Daddy sent me a cryptic message that just said,Consider Socrates. What does that even mean?"

Dan snorted. "Socrates was all about examining life. Your dad's probably in some existential spiral about Mick's lack of career ambition. Next, he'll be sending you passages from Nietzsche."

Anna laughed, pouring herself a glass of wine. "Oh, he's already there. He told me Mick was like Diogenes, choosing to live free of society's material constraints. Which, by the way, he does not mean as a compliment."

I sighed, burying my face in my hands. "Great. So now Mick's not just an island beach bum; he's my very own Diogenes, living in his barrel on the beach."

Dan chuckled. "Honestly, I think your dad's more bothered by the fact that Mick seems content with doing nothing. It goes against everything he stands for. But he did think Mick got points because the sex was so good."

I glared at Anna. "You're a traitor. I want you to know that. I'm not telling you anything from now on."

"He gave her three orgasms one night," Anna told Dan.

"Whoa! What's he trying to do? Make all other men look bad?" Dan growled. "I can barely get her off once, and sometimes we need a toy."

I banged my head on the table next to my plate three times. "Anna, I will not talk about your sex life with your husband. This is all kinds of wrong.And,Dan, you should not be talking about my sex life with your father-in-law."

"Prude," Anna accused. "I want to meet Mick. How about you, Dan?"

"Sure. Maybe he'll give me some sex tips."

"Ye gods," I moaned. "Please don't ask him."

"Why not? He's an expert, and you know me—I'm all about learning," Dan said, his tone dripping with mock seriousness.

"And I'll certainly appreciate youlearningnew things." Anna patted Dan's shoulder supportively.

My family was a hoot and a half.

I was about to respond when, through the flickering candlelight and the low hum of French jazz, I sawhim.

Oh my God. And he was with a leggy blonde in a slinky black dress. How dare he waltz into Les Sablons with some runway-ready hussy draped over his arm, laughing at whatever sweet nothings he was whispering in her ear. He just couldn't keep his hands off a woman, could he? So much for I love you, Belle.Prick.

And what the hell was he even doing here? He was supposed to be slurping raw oysters at the Driftwood Shack, not sipping expensive wine, which he'd said was a scam. And where the fuck were his flip-flops? Seriously. Okay, fine, it was Boston and cold, but a suit? A charcoal suit? Atailoredsuit.

Mick Bottom was a complete fraud. Sophisticated Dr. Augustus was blending right in with Cambridge's elite, like he hadn't once been barefoot on a beach, drinking rum straight from the bottle.Total.Fraud.

Anna turned, following my gaze. Her eyes lit up, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Is that…no?"

"Who else?" I muttered, rolling my eyes. The fact that he could slide back into this world so easily, looking like he'd never traded in his tailored suits for board shorts, was beyond irritating. I felt a twinge of something I refused to call jealousy.

Dan looked, too, raising an eyebrow. "He doesn't look like a beach bum at all," he noted, a little too cheerfully.

"He got a haircut," I said as if he'd committed ten first-degree crimes.

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