Page 45 of Sea La Vie
“You can do it, you know,” Tate says. His eyes take on a sparkle, and I can tell he’s daydreaming about it, just like I do everyday. “You can still do it. I have no doubt it would be wildly successful. I’ll even be your accountant.” He winks again, and I lower my gaze, afraid he’ll notice the flush creeping up my cheeks.
“I don’t think so,” I say, letting out a whoosh of air. “I’ve got too much going on. And that’s okay. Please don’t think I’m complaining. I enjoy helping out where I can.”
Tate bites his lip like he wants to say something but doesn’t. “Speaking of help, we better head back,” I say. “I promised Huck I’d serve tables tonight.”
He looks down at our intertwined hands. Reluctantly, I slip mine from his and it’s instantly cold, despite the warm, sunny day. I want to put it back inside his warm embrace. As Tate backs away from the table and pulls on his t-shirt, my heart sinks.
“I guess that settles what I’m having for dinner,” he says and instantly, I feel warm again.
18
Beau 1963
“You came,” I say, grinning.
Emma smiles, “Of course I came. Where are you taking me today, Beau?”
I point east. “Do you see that lighthouse?”
Emma shields her eyes with a dainty, delicate hand, and looks where I’m pointing. “Yes.”
“That’s where we’re going.” I hoist the picnic basket up on my shoulder then swing one leg over my bike.
“I don’t have a bike,” Emma frowns.
“I didn’t figure you did,” I say. “But that’s okay. You can ride on my handlebars.”
Emma smiles mischievously. “I’ve never ridden on someone's handlebars before.”
“Well, now you can say you have,” I grin. “Hop on.” I hold her hand as she climbs onto the front wheel, then sits.
“Can you still see?” she asks.
“Yep,” I tell her. “Just hold on tight.” I kick off the ground and start pedaling. Emma’s laughter fills the air, and the wind blows her copper strands back from her face.
“This is amazing!” she says. She tilts her face up to the sky, basking in the sunshine, and lets out a squeal. It takes all my effort to focus on the road and not her. She’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, her beauty unmatched.
We arrive at the lighthouse moments later and Emma hops off. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes sparkle, a new energy about her. “Follow me,” I say, tucking the picnic basket under my arm. I glance around quickly before jiggling the doorknob a few times while kicking in the bottom left corner of the door.
“Are we allowed up here?” she asks. The door flies open on its rusty hinges and sunlight filters in through the window a few hundred feet up.
“Technically…no,” I say sheepishly. “But all the kids come up here and I’m sure the city knows we do. If they wanted us to stay out, they’d secure it up a little tighter.” I glance at her, searching for any signs of hesitation. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“No way,” she says. “Take me to the top.” I smile. I knew I liked this girl.
We climb all the way to the top, and Emma immediately runs to the edge to peer over. “Be careful,” I laugh. “She’s sturdy but she’s old.” I follow behind her and rest my arms along the railing. “Do you see that out there?” I point to a sandbar to our right. “That’s only visible when the tides come out. If you go there by boat, you can sometimes find sea glass.”
“Can you take me there, too?” she asks, turning toward me.
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” I tell her.
She smiles, pleased with my answer then nods at the picnic basket. “Is that for us?”
I open the basket and spread a blanket onto the grated deck of the lighthouse. She sits, tucking her knees under her, and I pull out two sandwiches. “Ham or turkey?”
“Turkey, please.” She unwraps the sandwich and takes a bite, leaving a small dollop of mayo above her lip. “Did you make this?”
“I wish I could say yes,” I say. “But I picked these up at the deli earlier.” I reach behind me and pull out two cups and a bottle of wine. Emma eyes the wine hesitantly.
