Page 68 of Riding the Waves

“In Marty’s bed,” she said, then looked at Marty. “If that’s all right with you?”

He nodded and grinned at her.

“We’ll be out of the way tomorrow,” Wendy said. “Then you’ll have more space.”

“I thought you were staying for the weekend too,” Amy remarked.

“No.” Wendy smiled at her. “We need to get back home.”

Amy wondered if they’d always planned on leaving the following day or if they’d decided to get out of the way because she was there.

She didn’t have much time to dwell on it since Martin asked her how she was enjoying working at the publishing company and then peppered her with questions about it. Beside her, Damian discreetly pulled his phone from his pocket, keeping it by his hip as he replied to a message. It distracted her enough that she finally looked down to see who he was messaging.

“Sorry,” he said, catching her looking. “It’s work.”

“No phones at the table,” Wendy said, tilting her head.

He rolled his eyes in reply. “It’s my house. And I’m an adult. You can’t confiscate my phone. Plus, it’s work. I only need to tell Callie one more thing …” He tapped away on his phone, then pushed it back into his pocket.

“You’ll set a bad example for the boys,” Wendy said lightly.

“Leave him alone,” Martin put in, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. “He’s running a thriving business. Sometimes that means having your phone at the dinner table. Is everything okay down at the shack?”

“Yeah. Just some confusion about a drinks delivery.”

“It’s amazing how he’s built up the business, isn’t it?” Martin asked, looking at Amy. “Who’d have thought he’d have expanded it like he has?”

“All right, Dad,” Damian said. “It’s a surf shack. I’m not exactly taking over the world.”

“He’s right though.” Amy knocked her elbow against his. “You have done very well for yourself.”

“One of Devon’s great entrepreneurs,” Wendy said, then set her cutlery on her empty plate. “I always knew he’d do well.”

“What’s an entrepreneur?” Marty asked, taking care with his pronunciation.

“A businessperson,” his grandpa replied proudly. “And your dad is a very successful one.”

“He doesn’t wear a suit,” Billy said. “Anthony wears a suit and goes to business meetings. Dad doesn’t do that.”

Martin leaned on the table and looked at Billy intently. “Your dad doesn’t need to go to business meetings because he’s the boss. He owns his own business. That means he can do what he wants.”

“Anyway,” Damian said, sighing as he pushed his chair away from the table. “Let’s get tidied up so we can find something for dessert.”

“Anthony has a great job, as well,” Wendy said, aiming a gentle smile at Amy.

“Mum,” Damian hissed. “Can we please change the subject?”

“We’re just very proud of you,” she replied. “You should be proud of yourself too.”

Damian’s cheeks had coloured when he picked up his plate and Amy’s. “Who wants ice cream?”

The boy’s enthusiasm for sugar lightened the atmosphere, but Amy couldn’t help but think the entire conversation had been aimed at her. It wasn’t as though she needed anyone to tell her how well Damian had done with his business. It was quite clear. If she’d have trusted him when the kids were tiny she’d have been right there beside him while he’d grown his business.

“Who’s reading the story tonight?” Billy asked once he’d devoured a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

“Mummy,” Marty declared, much to Amy’s relief.

“Maybe Mummy would like to go out with Daddy,” Wendy said, from where she was loading the dishwasher. “I can read your story. Or Grandpa.”

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