Page 12 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “But what about Ryder? Are you going to shut him out too?”

“Well, no, of course not.” She seems to falter there. “Fine, you can text us about watching Ryder, because of course we want to see him. And I pray you’re not cruel enough to keep him from us.”

Me, cruel? The irony.

She continues. “But we will not talk to you about this court petition. The court date is in five weeks, and we can discuss it then. Good day.”

The phone goes dead. I pull it away, stare at it in my hand. Run my hand down my face. My breathing hitches, and my palms go sweaty. What am I going to do?

My response is automatic. I pick the phone back up and text the one person I know will be here in a matter of minutes.

SOS.

The phone rings almost immediately. Marilee’s picture—one I took of her baking something in my kitchen, adorable, with her hair up and glasses falling down her nose, unaware I was taking a photo—pops up on the screen. “Hey, Lee.”

“Jordan?” I can hear the noise of the bakery, the steady stream of classical music Marla Thompkins keeps playing, eking into our conversation. “Hang on.” The noise suddenly stops. “Sorry, I had to step into the kitchen. What’s going on? Where are you? Are you okay? Who do I need to beat up?”

She says the last part jokingly, and it is rather laughable to think of sweet Marilee Moffitt beating anyone up with her petite frame and kindness that wouldn’t harm a fly. But then again, she has no idea why I’m SOS-ing her.

“Um. Sorry. I didn’t know you were working today.”

“Don’t apologize. Lexi had an appointment, so Marla asked me to fill in up front. But she actually just got back, so it’s good timing.” A pause. “Where are you?”

“At work.”

“K. I’ll be there in five.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“I said I’ll be there in five, Jay.”

I smile at the nickname she gave me in high school after I first called her Lee. She said it was only fair that if I got to shorten her name, she got to shorten mine. “Let’s actually meet on the beach.”

“Okay.”

I don’t even have to tell her which spot—she just knows. It’s the spot where we always go, down past the Pink Rose, south of most of the major Main Street buildings, where a path diverges down to the water and there’s a grassy bluff always sporting a spray of flowers, even in the winter.

After I pop inside the store to let Mandy know I’ll be gone a bit longer than usual, I head to the place where the boardwalk ends, and Marilee’s already waiting there for me, two white pastry bags clutched in her fist—because of course she couldn’t come empty-handed.

“Hi.” She tilts her head, studying me from behind her black-rimmed glasses. Today she’s got on jeans, red Converse sneakers, and a white cable knit sweater with a large, green Christmas tree on the front. Her long, brown hair is tied loosely back in a low ponytail pulled over one shoulder—a different look than her high bun, but it’s still enough to give me a view of her graceful neck.

What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.

“Hi.” I stop in front of her. “Thanks for coming.”

“Duh. You sounded…”

“Panicked? Yeah. A bit.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Let’s go sit.”

“Please tell me now. I’m really worried, and don’t think I can last an extra minute.”

I glance away, toward the waves flicking up against the sand. Ebbing and flowing, no matter how much my own world is imploding. “Constance and Larry are trying to take Ryder away from me.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

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