Page 5 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

Something like a relieved smile crosses her face, and she melts into his side. “Right. Of course. I knew that.”

And as she flashes me a wave and shouts, “I’ll let you know the deets about Friday soon,” something settles in my spirit.

A deep knowing.

That somehow, that girl is going to be important to me—even if she’s taken, and all I can ever be is her friend.

two

MARILEE

Present day

Every year, without fail, whenever it’s time to take down the Christmas tree, I die a thousand tiny deaths inside. That’s why I wait as long as is humanly possible.

Or until my roommates—i.e., my brother Blake and his recently eloped wife, Lucy—start to complain.

“It smells like death in here, Squirt.”

My head lifts from my spot at the kitchen counter, where I’m currently halfway through decorating a cake, to find my brother just inside the front door of the home in Hallmark Beach where we both grew up. It’s late afternoon on a Monday, which means he’s just returning from a supply run into San Luis Obispo to stock his gourmet grilled cheese food truck for the week. “What?”

He hangs his keys on a rack and shrugs out of his brown Harrington jacket before pointing to the Christmas tree next to the mantel, which, fine, is maybe a few days past its prime, with wrinkled bark and several brown needles, many of which cover our living room floor. Some of my favorite ornaments—like a tiny spatula (the last one Mom gave me before she and Dad died almost seven years ago)—are drooping, right along with the branches they’re hooked on.

“It’s gotta go, Mare. Lucy nearly threw up this morning on her way to the restaurant.”

Using my favorite small star tip, I pipe a row of red around the edge of the round cake, which will hopefully soon resemble Captain America’s shield. He’s Ryder’s favorite superhero, and the birthday boy gets what the birthday boy wants. “Most things make Lucy nearly throw up these days.” Tossing my brother a saucy wink, I ignore the internal pinch at the thought that one of my best friends is pregnant.

Because I’m seriously happy for her—for both of them—but it doesn’t stop me from grieving my own secret losses.

I don’t think about them all the time, but I never forget.

Still, I’m going to be an aunt, and that reallyisworth celebrating. Come early August, this kid’s gonna be spoiled, that’s for sure. He or she will have all the cupcakes, cookies, and baked goods I can sneak them. Plus all the snuggles and kisses too.

Blake plops onto the stool across the kitchen island from me, exhaling heavily at the same time he pushes a hand through his short brown hair. “I thought we’d have a bit more time married and alone before becoming parents.”

That word—alone—captures my attention, and I blink at the cake in front of me. It’s only half finished but I feel the urge to start from scratch. I open my mouth to say what I’m thinking—that they’re hardly alone with me here, that I’d move out and give them the whole house if I could afford to—but Blake keeps on talking.

“Still, I’m happy, you know?”

“I know.” I smile at him, pushing my large-framed glasses up my nose. “As you should be.” Blake and Lucy’s path to a relationship was filled with ups and downs, supposed “hatred” and love. But they finally found their way to each other, and I’ve enjoyed watching them go from falling in love last summer to getting engaged and quickly eloping a few months ago to this—starting a family.

Blake and I have always been different—him so put together, me such a mess—so it’s no surprise that he’s succeeded in all the ways I’ve failed. Donny and I may have been married for six years (after dating for five), but our relationship was never like Blake and Lucy’s.

And I didn’t see it. All those years…

Then, when I did, I was too scared to change it.

Too broken.

I fill in the edges of the shield, frowning when I muss a spot. Normally I can decorate without thinking—it’s my happy place. But Donny and the past aside, there are a lot of other things swirling around in my brain right now. It started with Lucy and Blake’s Christmas morning announcement nearly two weeks ago and continued when my boss Marla Thompkins asked me last week if I was interested in buying The Blackberry Muffin bakery from her, as she’s ready to retire.

Standing, Blake grabs an apple out of a bowl in the center of the island and tosses it into the air a few times before spearing me with a look. “So… Do you think Jordan would loan you his truck so we can haul that thing away? Or maybe he can use it as firewood for one of his camping trips this spring?”

“I’ll ask him tonight.” My chest tightens at the thought of losing another Christmas tree. Of another year passing without Mom and Dad.

“Tonight? You guys are doing dinner togetheragain?” Blake may think he’s being nonchalant with his question, but I want so badly to roll my eyes at the implication in his tone. “Weren’t you just over there a bunch this weekend?”

“This weekend, I was helping to watch Ryder so Jordan could get in extra work after the holidays. And tonight, it’s Ryder’s birthday dinner. His grandparents on both sides are going to be there too.”

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