Page 37 of Changed Plan

“Well,” Izzie responds. “Where were you when we needed them moved? We paid to rent two chairs, an umbrella, and a table. And that’s exactly what we’re using.”

“It’s fine that you’re using them, but—”

“Of course it’s fine. We paid for them. Why are you still here?”

Oh, she’s so salty. I love her.

Zane intervenes. “Sorry. I grew up here, and I used to work on this beach, too. Old habits. Next time, we’ll find someone to move them for us. Here . . .” He opens his wallet and offers the guy five bucks. “Consider it the tip you would’ve earned if I hadn’t forgotten that I no longer work here.”

He’s good. The ultimate mediator.

The young man takes the five. “Thanks, man. Y’all enjoy the beach.”

“We’re trying to,” Izzie says in a tone infused with so much teen annoyance I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Be nice,” Zane tells her as the young man walks away.

“Nice gets women killed.”

“Stay sexy and don’t get murdered,” I add.

“Exactly,” she says.

Zane shakes his head. “That’s from that podcast you and Mom listen to, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Aw,” I say. “I love that you listen to it with your mom.”

“I love that you listen to it, too.”

“I think it’s morbid,” Zane says. “Not that y’all probably care what I think about it.”

“We don’t,” Izzie and I say in unison.

And then we laugh together, even Zane.

We all stare at the waves. I think about my job offers, weighing the pros and cons. I’m sure Zane and Izzie are thinking about far more difficult things. We all sit with our own thoughts while the gulls swoop and the waves roll.

Two days ago, all I wanted was to spend a week alone on this beach. And I was enjoying it alone, but being alone together feels better.

I’ve never known someone who knew how to let me be alone with him, a man confident enough to not prod for constant reassurance. Someone who could make being stuck at the airport feel like a vacation. One who could make me feel at home, even in a place I hardly know.

When Zane says they should get back for dinner, we all gather our things. I hadn’t planned to leave the beach yet, but I don’t want to stay by myself anymore. I’ll go to my room and finish my book. Maybe I’ll order room service.

“Are you free to go sailing tomorrow?”

“No,” Izzie huffs. “Tomorrow’s Monday, loser. I have school.”

“I was talking to her.”

“Oh, right,” she says, taking a step back.

Zane closes the space between us. “I’ll have breakfast with Mom and visit with her for a few hours, but I could pick you up at your hotel around ten. She’ll need to rest for a while.”

“Yeah, I’m free.”

“See you at ten.”

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