Page 49 of A Line in the Sand
Molly swirled the rosé in her glass, a furious little rose-colored riptide. It was like she wasn’t even there. “I don’t actually want to be second in command.”
Shelikedbeing a mermaid, and she was tired of having to defend that choice. So much so that she forgot for a second it was no longer her job to defend.
“And Max isn’t quite as wonderful as you think he is.”Here we go.Molly set down her glass with a clunk. She needed a clear head for this discussion. “In fact…”
“Oh, look!” Her mother stood to bend over the deck’s railing and peered down at something below.
“Mom, please. I’m trying to tell you guys something important,” Molly said.
Her mother leaned further over the railing. “Yoo-hoo, Max! We’re up here.”
Molly flew to her feet. “Wait. Mom, no.”
Max was here? Of course he was. He lived right next door. Why, oh why, had he chosen now to insert himself into her mother’s line of vision?
“You should have told us that Max was joining us,” her father said. “We could have waited to open the wine.”
“But he’s not. He lives next door, that’s all.” Molly gestured toward Henry’s beach house, but just as she did, Max appeared at the top of the stairs leading up to the deck.
At least she thought it was Max. It certainly looked like Max, albeit a much looser, more relaxed version of him. He was wearing the same pressed khakis and button-down shirt from this morning, but his pants had gone uncharacteristically rumpled and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows, giving Molly a tantalizing glimpse of his strong turtle-hoisting forearms.
Ugh, how pathetic was she—ogling her nemesis’s forearms?
She shifted her gaze to Max’s face, shielded by the brim of one of the baseball caps they sold at the aquarium gift shop. He smiled at her in a very non-nemesis sort of way, and the plastic neon-yellow sunglasses he was wearing went crooked.
“Why didn’t you tell us that Max lived right next door?” Dad asked.
“I guess it just didn’t come up,” Molly said. The truth had gotten lost somewhere among all the pretense.
“Hi there, Molly.” Max leaned nonchalantly against the railing. “Molly the mermaid.”
She opened her mouth for a snappy comeback, because really? He was mocking her unemployment now, right in front of her parents?
But then he stumbled a bit on his way to greet Ursula with a stream of ridiculous-sounding baby talk. The puppy promptly abandoned her stuffed bone to flop down, belly-up, at his feet.
Wait a minute.
Something was definitely off. Was Maxdrunk?
He crouched down to give Ursula a good scratch and then stood to greet her parents, neither of whom seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. But Molly knew Max well enough to realize that the loosey-goosey personality currently on display wasn’t his ordinary one.
“Nice glasses,” she said with a smirk.
“Thank you. I got them at the aquarium.” Max pushed the glasses up on his head and his gaze leapt toward Molly’s. “Where you and I both work.”
Whatwas he doing?
“Can I speak to you inside for a second, Max?” Molly jerked her head toward the French doors that lead to the beach cottage’s interior.
“Don’t forget to grab a wine glass for Max while you’re in there, sweetheart,” her mother said.
Ha. As if he needed it.
Molly spun on her heel, marched toward the French doors, and hauled them open. Ursula sprang to her feet and followed. Max fell in step behind them much more slowly and languidly, as if being poured from a bottle. Once he was finally inside, Molly shut the doors with a firm click and led him to the kitchen.
Max began opening cabinets, one right after the other.
“Excuse me, but what do you think you’re doing?” Molly said.
