Page 126 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
* * *
Quinn and I spent the afternoon at the beach, and I put thoughts of Ridge out of my head. I knew I’d see him at the wedding, obviously, but until then, I didn’t want to think about him.
“Do you remember that time I dragged you up to the lake so I could jump off those rocks?” Quinn asked as we stood at the ocean’s edge, our feet sinking into the sand and the salty water lapping over our ankles.
“I remember.” It was the summer we were eighteen, right before Quinn left for UCLA, and she wanted to fulfill a childhood wish.
“I was scared I’d hit the rocks below and sink like a stone. I said, what if we fall? And you said, ‘What if we fly?’” She looked over at me, and it dawned on me that Quinn was wearing a bikini. Her scars were on full display, and she wasn’t trying to hide them.
“Do you want me to hold your hand?” she asked.
I watched the waves crashing farther out while my feet got sucked deeper into the sand. Then I held out my hand, and Quinn took it. We ran into the water as far as possible before a wave crashed into us and knocked us over. I laughed as I tried to get to my feet, only to get knocked over again.
I dove into a wave, and it felt like I was being pulled in all different directions. Up, down, and sideways. Like I was in the spin cycle of a washing machine.
I loved the ocean. I loved how you could swim out past the breakers and float in the calmer water. I loved the smell and the taste of it. I loved how it was so deep and vast and how it could knock you on your ass when you turned your back on a wave.
Even the Pacific Ocean reminded me of Ridge. Of a conversation we’d once had.
“You lied to me,” I’d accused him one night when we were hanging out on his back porch. I was sitting on his lap, playing with his hair while he told me about his dream.
“What did I lie about?”
“You said you were as shallow as a puddle. Instead, I got the Pacific Ocean.” I traced his lips with my fingertip. “Those lying lips….”
“Deserve to be kissed.”
And now it was only five more days until I saw him again.
* * *
The next morning, Jesse served us breakfast on the patio. Oat pancakes, bowls of fresh cut-up fruit, and Greek yogurt drizzled with honey. He set cappuccinos in front of Quinn and me and took his seat. It was only eight o’clock in the morning, and there was still a slight chill in the air. During the day, the temperatures hit the low eighties, but mornings and evenings were cooler.
I thanked him for the cappuccino and took a sip. “I could get used to this.”
Quinn beamed at Jesse. They were so in love it was almost sickening. But I loved their love, and once Jesse had gotten his head out of his ass, he proved that he was worthy of Quinn. They belonged together, and I couldn’t imagine them with anyone else.
At thirty-two, Jesse looked a lot like Jude. Handsome, with thick chestnut hair and an air of contentment. Like he’d done everything he set out to do and was exactly where he belonged—with the woman of his dreams.
“Are you all ready for your bachelor party?” Quinn asked him.
“Should be interesting,” Jesse said with a short laugh.
“You guys will have fun,” Quinn said.
Jesse looked skeptical. The men—the McCallisters and the Cavanaughs—were going hiking in the canyon and whatever else Jude had planned for them while the women had a spa day.
Which meant that I’d be seeing Lila and Shiloh, who had arranged our girls’ day out.
There were six of us—Shiloh, Lila, Quinn, Priya, Addison, and me.
We spent the day at a spa in the Temescal Valley. We had our own cabana and every treatment under the sun—mud baths, facials, exfoliating masks, massages, saunas, and hot spring mineral baths.
By the time the sun set, I was revitalized, rejuvenated, and drunk on California wine.
“We’ve missed you,” Shiloh said. We were sitting at an outdoor bar that looked like a tiki hut surrounded by tropical trees and plants.
I took a sip of my wine, trying to hide my shame and embarrassment. Other than Quinn and, by default, Jesse, I hadn’t stayed in touch with any of the McCallisters.
