Page 55 of The House on Firefly Beach
“Good morning.” Sydney walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his tiny frame. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mm hmm,” he said, before a yawn engulfed him. When he finally opened his eyes, he touched the ring on her finger. “I showed that to Nate last night.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. We were playing that word game that Uncle Hank has. When it was my go, I got a really hard word so I ran to Uncle Hank and asked him to explain what it was. I was trying to get Nate to say ‘costume jewelry’ and Uncle Hank said that was pretend jewelry that was less expensive than real jewelry. I wasn’t allowed to talk, so I remembered you had that ring! Wasn’t that good thinking?”
“Yes, it was!” she replied with forced enthusiasm. “Did Nate guess the word?” she asked carefully, mortified that he’d seen the ring and dying to know Nate’s reaction after she’d told him she didn’t have it anymore.
“He looked at it really weird for a long time and then he guessed the word was ‘love’.” Robby squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, giggling. “Youcouldgive someone a ring if you love them, but gross.” He wrinkled his nose at the idea, making her laugh.
Sydney slipped the ring off her finger and set it down on top of Nate’s note. “Come on,” she said, “let’s get you some breakfast.”
Sydney sat at her desk in the old sewing room. The sewing room used to double as an extra bedroom, but in the renovation of Starlight Cottage, Sydney had replaced the twin bed with a soft, seashell-colored cream sofa and rearranged the furniture, keeping Aunt Clara’s sewing machine that she’d used to make some of the pieces she’d designed for her company Morgan and Flynn as a focal point on one wall while adding a small desk in the center of the room. She stared at her computer screen.
This was what she knew: Nate dropped everything to run off and write—it was his job to do that. He said he did it all the time, and, being an incredibly successful songwriter, he probably had to. The magazines reported that he never stayed in one location for very long, and, given what Sydney knew of his attention span, they were most likely correct. He lived a life where he was followed by photographers and hounded by the press…
Sydney tapped her pen against her bottom lip. She wanted to run into his arms when he got back, but everything in her brain told her she needed to get over him once and for all or he’d haunt her for the rest of her life. What could she do to take her mind off him, though? Here she was at her desk at work, needing to get a move on with figuring out this magazine, and he was filling her head. She had to have something else to think about…
Slowly, she looked down at her handbag on the floor, leaning against her desk, and an idea came to her. In that instant, she realized that Nate kept trying because deep down, she still had hope that they could be what they were, and she allowed him to have glimpses of it. As much as it would hurt, she had to give Nate a solid message that he needed to stop. It was the only way that she could get him out of her head so she could move forward in life.
Sydney grabbed her cell phone and pulled up Logan’s number on a text screen. She typed:
Hi. This is Sydney. I was wondering if you want to get together again sometime.
She stared at the message, considering, and the more she thought about it, the more she knew she had to do it. She hit send.
The word “read” appeared at the bottom of her message, alerting her that Logan had seen the message, and a cold shiver coursed through her.He seemed nice, she told herself.He was funny.
Logan’s text came in:
Love to. Today work?
Yes, she answered. She could take a late lunch and meet him in town.
How about 1:00 at The Fruity Fish?
She hadn’t been to the local juice bar called The Fruity Fish in ages. It would be nice to stop back in. Maybe she could even grab a take-out menu to see if Robby would like any of their smoothies.
Logan came back to her:
See you then!
Logan emerged through the throng of vacationers strolling through town and met her in front of The Fruity Fish. He was much more casual than he’d been when she’d seen him last, wearing a T-shirt and sunglasses, his thick crop of dark hair attractively messier than it had been before. He broke into a gorgeous smile when he saw her.
“Hey,” he said, greeting her with a friendly hug. “It’s great to see you.”
“Shall we go inside?” she asked.
In response, Logan opened the door for her and allowed her to enter, the cool air welcoming after being in the midday heat. Every table was occupied. As usual, the place was crawling with tourists, wide-eyed and buzzing over the selection of beverages listed above the juice bar, their arms full of Fruity Fish mugs and T-shirts that said “Eat your veggies” with a cartoon smoothie bending at the side, a smile stretching across the cup.
The owner, Sanders McCoy, waved to them between juice cup flips and straw catches. He was known for his acrobatics when making juice drinks. In fact, Aunt Clara had tried to get her and Nate a job there after they’d shown her their lemon-juggling routine.
They joined the line to put in their orders.
“Do you see an open seat?” she asked Logan. He was taller than she was, so perhaps he could get a better view over the crowd.
He took off his sunglasses and tipped his head up, scanning the room. “Nothing.” He looked down at her, the corners of his eyes creasing with his smile. “Where can you get the worst food in town?” he asked.
