Page 43 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

Or the fact that being married to me is keeping Jordan from being with someone with real potential.

Ugh.Go away, you obnoxious thoughts.Shifting into the cushions of the resin wicker chair on Jordan’s back patio, I soak in the warmth of the mug in my hands and the blanket covering my lower half.

“Knock, knock,” comes a voice from behind.

I glance over my shoulder to find April, dressed not in her standard fare of yoga pants and an oversized shirt but slacks and a smart blue blouse that matches her bright eyes. “Hey—” I start, but am interrupted by a high-pitched squeal of “Mommy!” as a blur races past me and flings herself in April’s arms.

April kisses Scarlett’s head and gives her a hug. “Hi, Scar. Were you good for Ms. Marilee?”

Scarlett tilts her head up and nods emphatically. “Of course I was. She makes the best cookies and I wanted some.”

“Oh yeah?” April’s eyes laugh. Behind her, the porch light flickers on as dusk settles in. “And did she give you some?”

I hold up my mug. “Guilty as charged. Though I probably would have even if she was naughty.”

Scarlett’s face brightens. “Really?”

“Don’t give her ideas, Mare.” April taps Scarlett’s freckled nose. “You ready to go?”

“Oh, can I please please pleeeeeeease have thirty more minutes?” April’s daughter folds her hands in front of her face like she’s pleading for mercy in front of the queen.

April tucks a stray blonde curl behind Scarlett’s ear. “I’m sure Ms. Marilee has lots to do?—”

“Ms. Marilee does not.” I pat the chair next to me. “Feel free to stay. I’ve got some lasagna and garlic bread left if you want to eat dinner and let the kiddos play a little longer.”

“Twist my arm. Anytime I get the chance to eat your food is a no-brainer.”

“And here I thought you enjoyed my company too.” I make a face, sticking out my tongue slightly.

“So we can stay?” Scarlett bounces on her tiptoes.

“For a bit.”

Pumping her hands in the air, Scarlett runs back to tell Ryder the good news.

I pop up from my seat, place my coffee on the small side table between the pair of wicker chairs, and pat the other one. “Sit. I’ll grab you food.”

“I shouldn’t let you, but I’m exhausted from that drive. I forgot how nuts the city is.”

“No problem.” I shuffle inside and serve up some lasagna for April before returning to my seat.

“Thank you,” she says as I hand her the steaming plate. She takes an inhale and closes her eyes. “This smells like heaven. I’ve been going all day on a protein bar.”

“Poor thing.” I settle back into my seat as she digs into her food. “Remind me—why did you go to San Francisco?”

April stops with a forkful of food hanging midair. She shoves it in and says around it, “Nuffin’ important.”

Hmmm. April’s not the sort to hold back. She’s more than willing to tell you all sorts of intimate details about her life—from Scarlett’s birth story to the shocking reality of postpartum laughing and her bladder’s inability to maintain decorum.

Other than not letting anyone read the books burning a hole in her computer—something I don’t entirely blame her for, given she’s still honing her craft—there’s only one subject not fit for public consumption, or even her friends’ consumption.

Scarlett’s dad.

I’m not sure even Kelsey, her best friend, knows who he is. We only know that April came home from her freshman year of college pregnant and that she and the dad weren’t together.

End of story.

I’ve never pried, but maybe here, in this small setting, she might open up if she knows I care. I pick up my coffee mug again and drum my fingers along the ceramic red surface. “Did your trip have anything to do with Scarlett’s dad?”

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