Page 8 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

Jordan drops his hands and moves to the pizza box. “You’re actually it. Sorry, I would have texted you, but I just found out right before you arrived.”

“Found out what?”

“Mom’s had a flare-up, so she can’t make it. And I’m not sure Dad was going to come anyway.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry.” Jordan’s mom has multiple sclerosis, and it’s worsened over the last few years. That, combined with the fact his dad is a high-functioning (though thankfully non-abusive) alcoholic, means Jordan can’t rely on them to watch Ryder as much as he could when Ryder was a baby.

And now that Georgia’s gone, her parents and I are the only regular caretakers who can help Jordan with Ryder when he’s in his busy work season during the spring and summer.

“What about Larry and Constance? I thought they were coming.”

He gives me a look. “They never actually accepted my invitation.”

“What do you mean? I thought things were better between you?”

Jordan just shrugs as he serves up pizza slices on the plates I slide his way.

Georgia’s parents, who live one town over, have never been Jordan’s biggest fan, but since he and Georgia co-parented with respect for each other, they always held their tongues.

Until Georgia died from cancer. In recent months, Constance especially has not held back her opinions on Jordan’s parenting. But to not come over for Ryder’s birthday?

“That’s just rude. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I think they’re just really struggling. It’s been almost a year since Georgia died. But I don’t want any tension for Ryder’s sake.” He runs a hand down his face, then seems to shake off his anxiety over the situation. “Anyway, you’re enough of a guest to make this a celebration. And speaking of the birthday boy, I’m gonna go make sure he didn’t fall into the toilet. Be right back.”

“Okay.” I say the word, but my whole body hums as Jordan leaves the kitchen. His words carry me—you’re enough.

It’s so strange to hear someone say that after years of enduring Donny’s emotional abuse. So easy to settle into it, to want to make a home there. To make a home here.

But as much as Jordan and Ryder and I feel like some strange little family—with two platonic parents, of course—I know it’ll never last. Jordan’s too good of a guy to not marry someone someday. And I want that for him. I do. I won’t stand in the way of it.

Which means I need to remember my place.

That this isnotmy home.

But neither is my actual home. Not anymore. It’s Blake and Lucy’s home, and I’m just living in it.

So maybe I need a New Year’s resolution—to figure out where Idoactually belong.

And then, maybe I can finally believe that I am enough. That the world I’ve built for myself is enough. And somehow, stop worrying that it’s all going to fall apart if I make one more poor decision.

three

JORDAN

The best part about living in a small town like Hallmark Beach is all the people who care about you.

The worst part about living in a small town?

All the people who care about you.

Because this Tuesday morning, all I want is to grab a coffee from The White Mocha and be on my merry way. But as I’m waiting for my Americano near the pickup counter, Earl Flanders and Ned Chamberlain hop up from a round, black metal table in the corner—their usual spot—and make a beeline for me.

“Jordan, my boy.” Earl sidles up beside me, stretching a bony arm around my shoulders. The Old Spice aroma he douses himself in every day wafts upward and tickles my nose. “We’ve got a question for the Town Guru on All Things Sports.”

“Good morning, Earl.” It’s only eight-thirty, but the place is already hopping, with a line stretching out the door and onto Main Street. From the large picture window out front, I catch a glimpse of the rising January sun glinting off the windows of Rainbow Ice across the road. “And wow, that’s quite the title.”

Bespectacled Ned stomps up and lightly shoves Earl’s arm away from me. “Now, don’t go getting all warm and fuzzy with him in hopes he’ll agree with you, Flanders.”

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