Page 84 of Finding the Pieces

This might be my favorite part of the weekend yet.

There’s something magical that happens on the beach. The sound, the smell, the sunshine, and the breeze feel restorative. I lean back on my elbows, close my eyes, let my head drop back between my shoulders, and take it all in. The call of seagulls ringing out as the waves crash in the distance, the weight of humid air sticking to my skin, the smell of salt, sunblock, and now limes—thanks to Dee.

“Beach day was the perfect pick, Bec,” I say, turning to look at my best friend while the rest of the girls continue in a heated debate about the best music video ever made.

“I’m glad to hear it, Momma. I thought we’d want to take advantage at least once since we’re only here a few days.”

“Dom told me this was your idea,” I say. “This whole trip, I mean. Using your pieces to plan things here instead of your original ideas for back home.”

Her carefree look morphs into one of empathy with a hint of concern she can’t hide from me.

“He came by after you two argued. I know that day was really shitty, and while I know running away from problems is never the answer, I also never had a bad time on the beach with a margarita, either, so I figure the pros outweigh the cons.” We both laugh at that.

“Did he seem okay? After our fight?” I ask, guilt gnawing at my stomach. But I need to know.

“He was shaken up, mostly worried about you. He was also worried he might be making things worse by having you participate in his ‘shenanigans.’”

“His anxiety is worse than mine sometimes,” I say with a shake of my head. “But damn if I don’t love the guy more for his shenanigans.”

“I know you do. I told him we should keep going, and that’s when I called in the girls. You’re an incredible mom, Ellie. Everyone can see that. But we wanted you to let your hair down a little this weekend. Thank you for trusting us.”

“I never doubted any of you.”

“Except on day one, right? The fish murder was a bit much,” she jokes.

“Bec, you are going to need to debrief with a professional about this.”

“I think you’re right. Oh god, things are escalating,” Bec says, nodding over to the girls, where Dee has stripped down to her bikini and is acting out Britney Spears’s “Stronger” video on a beach chair.

“Oh shit,” I say, unable to take my eyes off her, and struggling to hold in my laughter. “She’s going to wipe out and eat shit—” but before I can finish the thought, Dee takes a bad step, her foot too close to the hinge of the reclining chair and the entire thing folds in on her as she drops on her ass, legs tangled between the teal blue fabric and metal bars.

She flops onto her belly, rotating the chair with her, and she kicks her legs dreamily behind her, not missing a beat and continuing her lip-syncing of the song until it finally wraps.

We clap and whistle as she untangles herself from the chair, brushes off the sand, and takes a dramatic bow like she’s a principal actor on Broadway.

“The performance of a lifetime, babe,” I say, tapping my cup against hers as she takes her seat on my other side. Evie starts setting up for her song.

“Spank you very much,” she sings in reply. “Hey, Evie. Don’t start without me. I need to take a quick dip to cool off, but I don’t want to miss a second of the show!” she calls out as she makes her way to the water.

“I could use a minute to cool off too,” Evie says. “You guys in?”

“Yes, please. I’m melting,” Carissa says. Bec joins them, too, as they head to the water.

Abby packs the speaker in her bag to avoid it getting damaged before she takes off after the girls. Her eyes catch on me as I take out my book under the umbrella.

“You’re not coming? Aren’t you hot?”

“Scorching, actually,” I say.

“Same. Come on then, we need this before Dee starts to recruit us to be her backup dancers.”

“God, no. You’d have to drag my ass home. My body would collapse from exhaustion if I tried to do that in the sand,” I joke.

“What is it?” Abby presses, adjusting the scarf she’s wearing as a headband, her braids wrapped in a bun on her head.

I tug nervously on my cover-up. The girls ditched theirs almost as soon as we sat down, if they even wore one to begin with.

“I haven’t exactly been eager to wear a swimsuit since I had Luca. I wasn’t expecting an impromptu beach trip with a few days’ notice or anything, so I’m not exactlybeach-ready.” I wince, realizing how insecure I sound and hating it.

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