Page 52 of Beauty and the Beach
She gives me a questioning look, but I don’t have an explanation for her. I just shrug, and then we chat for a while as more people join us at the table.
The Fourth of July is an all-day affair in Sunset Harbor, and most of the town comes out to celebrate. There’s a breakfast to start out, and then a parade, then games on the beach, and finally music, dancing, and fireworks.
I’m not really interested in games, but I do love free breakfast, and I’ll probably go listen to Mo and the Kokomos later. They’re headlining the show tonight for the billionth year in a row, and they’re always good.
“Where should we watch the rest of the parade this year?” I say once we’ve finished our pancakes.
“There’s a nice place in the shade that we went to growing up,” Cat says, looking at Ivy. “Let’s try that.”
“I’m good with shade,” I say, because the sun overhead is already uncomfortably warm, and it’s not even nine yet. We make our way through the town square and then north up the island until we reach a sandy little hill, shaded by palm trees and facing one of the streets the parade will travel.
We settle in and watch from there, listening to the music and watching the floats. I’ve seen some of these floats every year since moving here, but I’m still not tired of them; it’s just hard to be anxious or upset when a giant silver star isrolling by, accompanied by a spangled, festooned marching band.
Even if you’re stressed about your errantly fluttering heart, like I am.
Once the parade is over, the three of us part ways; Ivy and Cat head to the beach, and I head home.
And byhome,I mean Phoenix’s house.
I haven’t seen him yet today; he was gone when I got up this morning, and because we’re not actually in a romantic relationship, he didn’t leave a note telling me where he was. I considered texting to ask, but that felt clingy.
I shiver as I step through the front door, the AC kissing my sweat-sheened skin; my white-eyelet sundress was perfect for the heat outside, but not so much in here. I’m just slipping off my sandals when Phoenix rounds the corner into the entryway, a large cooler in one hand, his eyes going wide when he sees me.
“Do we have any of those popsicles I bought?” I say, fanning the back of my neck. But when I take a closer look at him, my jaw drops. “Are you wearing at-shirt?Will you be okay without your emotional support button-down?”
Phoenix just stares at me, and I’m about to ask what his problem is when two more people follow him around the corner: Beau Palmer and Dax Miller.
Phoenix’s wide eyes are nothing compared to Beau’s when he sees me; Dax just looks vaguely confused.
“Ah.” The word slips weakly from my lips. But what else can I say? I’ve just let myself into the house with my own key, and I asked ifwehad any popsicles left.
“Hi,” Beau says, a smile spreading slowly over his face as he looks back and forth between me and Phoenix.
“Hi,” I say. “I—didn’t know you were here.”
“Clearly,” Phoenix says with a strained expression. Hesets the cooler down and runs one hand over his face. “Yesterday you said you were going to the parade.”
“I did go to the parade,” I say dumbly. “The parade is over. Cat and Ivy went to the beach”—Dax straightens up when I mention Ivy, I can’t help but notice—“and I decided to come back home.”
“Are you twolivingtogether?” Beau says. He looks happier about this than Phoenix and I have ever been.
I don’t want to lie, so I pass the buck and stay silent.
“We’re married, actually,” Phoenix finally says, his voice resigned. “And we’d prefer to tell as few people as possible, because we’re only doing it to take care of some family stuff, and then we’ll separate. So keep your mouth shut, please.”
“We’re only doing it to take care of some family stuff.” Hear that, heart?I tell myself.Stop fluttering.
“I have so many questions,” Beau says, and Phoenix rolls his eyes.
“I thought you were in a hurry?” he says.
“I am.”
Phoenix nods shortly. “Then let’s go. Dax, we’ll drop you off on the way.”
Dax nods too, and the three of them move past me, each carrying a cooler. Beau shoots me a smile over his shoulder as they leave, but he’s the only one; the door shuts, and I’m alone again.
I spendthe rest of the afternoon reading a book and icing my knee—which, according to the doctor I saw two days ago, just needs moderate activity and physical therapy. I hear Phoenix come home late morning, but I stay in my room.Only when six o’clock rolls around do I venture out, like a hermit going into public for the first time.
