Page 138 of Best In Class
I wheeze into my glass. “I didn’t smell like gum!”
“He taped a flower to a piece of notebook paper and signed it with a heart,” she adds, grinning wickedly. “He was always a romantic fool.”
Dom, who’s walking up behind us with a bowl of pulledpork, groans. “Mama, are you done exposing my childhood to national security risks?”
Miss Abigail pats his cheek. “Not even close.”
We’re at Dom’s Tybee Island summer getaway for my birthday party. And it’s everything Dom said it would be.
His beach house is a white-shuttered, wide-porched stunner tucked just beyond the dunes, with hammocks swinging between palm trees and a wraparound deck built for lazy evenings and louder company.
The house is airy and sun-drenched, all reclaimed wood floors, and crisp cotton slipcovers. But we’re not inside. No one is.
The party has spilled onto the beach where picnic tables are set up. There are string lights and driftwood centerpieces holding mason jars of fresh flowers.
There’s a breeze off the ocean, salty and calm.
Music is playing—an easy mix of R&B, jazz, and summer classics.
I think Stella had a hand in the playlist. Probably also the dance-off that broke out earlier between Diego and Lev.
Diego won, but only because Lev stopped to help a kid find a missing flip-flop.
Kids are running wild, chasing dogs and bubbles. They’re the neighborhood kids and they’re hanging around, eating the food, having fun.
Someone’s got a kite in the air.
A few of the guys are throwing a football.
The grill’s been going since late afternoon—ribs, hot dogs, grilled corn, all courtesy of the Rhodes’ family cook,Harrison (who has a soft spot for me). He also made lemon bars; my favorites. Aurora made key lime pie, and assured me that Harrison had nothing to do with it.
We have a wine table set up.
Dom raided Lev’s wine cellar.
He grumbles about it, but it’s his little sister’s birthday party, and he knows I like a good Brunello di Montalcino.
I’m standing in the sand, my feet buried in it, my heart full to the brim.
Dom comes up behind me and wraps an arm around my waist. He smells like sunshine, smoke from the grill, and champagne.
“Happy birthday,” he says into my hair.
“Best one ever.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “You’re barefoot in the sand, and you haven’t checked your phone in three hours. I’m taking credit.”
I turn in his arms and grin. “You get partial credit.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Who gets the rest?”
I glance around. “The wine.”
As if summoned, Lev strolls over with a glass of wine and a smirk. “Y’all living together now, or just rotating toothbrushes?”
I gasp. “Lev!”
Miss Abigail fans herself. “Well, I don’t know anything…but if I did, I couldn’t say.”
