Page 84 of Not Another Beach Read
My daughter!
—debating the merits of chocolate versus vanilla cake with an intensity that made me laugh.
This was my family. Not the one I'd imagined as a young woman, not the nuclear unit I'd grieved when fertility treatments failed, but something just as real and far more precious for having been found rather than made.
As we gathered around the kitchen island, sampling Holly's impressive baking efforts and making plans for the future, I felt a peace settle over me that had nothing to do with beach reads or perfect endings. This was real life—messy, surprising, and infinitely more satisfying than fiction.
And for once, I wasn't looking for an escape. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
ELYSE
The late afternoon sun painted Clearwater Beach in shades of amber and gold as we settled into our table at Frenchy's. My parents had arrived the previous day for a long weekend visit, eager to spend time with Holly before the school year began. Drew had begged off dinner, claiming a work call he couldn't reschedule, but I suspected he was just giving us some family time.
"This place hasn't changed a bit," my father said, looking around at the beach-worn decor with appreciation. "Still the same plastic palm trees and fishing nets on the walls."
"Why fix what isn't broken?" my mother replied, adjusting her sunglasses atop her head. She reached over and squeezed Holly's hand. "And how are you enjoying your summer job, sweetheart?"
Holly's face lit up. "It's amazing. Jenna's teaching me how to make puff pastry from scratch next week. She says I have a natural talent for baking."
"She definitely does," I chimed in. "Drew and I are going to need bigger clothes if she keeps bringing home her 'practice' batches."
My dad laughed. "Your grandmother had that same gift. Remember those cinnamon rolls she used to make for Christmas morning, Elyse?"
"How could I forget? Rachel and I would fight over the middle one." The mention of my sister's name no longer brought that sharp pain it once had. It was more of a dull ache now, a recognition of what was lost, but not a wound that threatened to reopen at any moment.
Rachel had never responded to Holly's text. Two months of silence told us everything we needed to know about her "recovery."
Our waiter appeared with a tray of drinks: sweet tea for my mom, beer for my dad, Diet Coke for Holly, and unsweetened tea for me.
"Ready to order?" he asked.
As my family placed their orders, I found my gaze drifting to a booth in the corner. The very same booth where, less than a year ago, I'd sat with my baseball cap pulled low, taking photos of a cheating husband for a woman I'd never met.
How different everything was now.
"Elyse?" My mother's voice pulled me back. "Your order, honey?"
"Oh, sorry. I'll have the grouper sandwich, please."
As the waiter walked away, I noticed my father studying me. "Penny for your thoughts?"
I smiled. "Just thinking about how much has changed since the last time I was here."
"For the better, I hope," my mother said, her eyes drifting meaningfully to Holly, who was scrolling through her phone, showing my dad pictures of her latest baking creations.
"Definitely for the better," I agreed.
A volleyball slammed against the window behind us, making us all jump. Beyond the glass, a group of sunburned twenty-somethings waved apologetically.
"Sorry!" one called through the glass.
Holly giggled. "This place is wild."
"It's part of the charm," I said, suddenly struck by how perfectly circular this moment felt. Here I was, sitting in Frenchy's again, but instead of hiding behind a disguise, taking covert photos of strangers, I was simply enjoying dinner with my family. My real family.
I "cleared my throat. "I've been waiting for the right moment to tell you. We got the final approval for the adoption!" I said, the words still feeling magical as they left my mouth. "The state signed off yesterday. It'll be official once we go before the judge."
My mother's eyes immediately welled with tears. "Oh, sweetheart. That's wonderful news."
