And while Enzo has not been checking out Suzette, I can’t say the same for her. Her cool blue-green eyes rake over his body, and her lips curl. And he hasn’t even taken his shirt off yet.
We’re not even on the beach yet, and suddenly I want to go home. But I suppose it’s better I’m here instead of leaving him alone with Suzette in her tiny bikini.
“Did you have trouble finding the beach?” Suzette asks. “We were wondering if you guys got lost along the way.”
Nico quickly spills the beans. “Dad got pulled over by the cops.”
Enzo laughs. “I was going too fast, they said.”
“I’m sure you weren’t.” Suzette shakes her head. “The police around here are so overzealous.”
“Well, we’re glad you could make it,” Jonathan says. Unlike his wife, there doesn’t seem to be any overtone in his statement. He seems genuinely glad to see us. “How are you doing, Nico? We miss you coming over to do chores.”
It’s kind of Jonathan to say that, even though really I know they were sick of having Nico over at their house and breaking half their living room.
Nico shrugs.
I want to tell him he’s being rude, but it feels like there’s almost no point. His moodiness has gotten even worse lately. I finally called his pediatrician and took him in for a visit, but after listening to his heart and lungs, she didn’t have much else to add. She didn’t recommend therapy. In fact, she said the same exact thing Enzo said:Boys can be aggressive sometimes. He’s probably still adjusting to the move. Just give it time.
“Where are the clients we’re meeting?” I ask Suzette.
“Oh.” She shrugs. “They canceled.”
Enzo doesn’t seem the slightest bit surprised, which makes me wonder if there was ever a client to begin with. I mean, abeach meeting? That sounded so made up.
But no, I’m being paranoid. I’m sure there was a client. People do cancel.
Suzette leads us to the beach to find the perfect spot to set up. Except she can’t seem to decide on the perfect spot. We tromp through half the beach, past several spots that seem perfectly fine. Poor Jonathan is struggling with carrying the two chairs and umbrella, so I offer to grab the umbrella for him in addition to our own. Suzette could offer to carry at least one thing, but she doesn’t seem inclined to do so. Jonathan is pretty good-natured about the whole thing though.
“Okay,” she finally says when it feels like my arms are about to fall off. “This seems good.”
Jonathan drops the two chairs on the ground, but just as he’s flexing his arms, she says, “Wait, maybe we should go down that way. The sun is better over there.”
Jonathan is ready to pick up the chairs again, but I’ve had enough. “Suzette,” I say, “this is perfect. And I’m not walking one more step.”
She rolls her eyes. “All right, all right. But, Millie, walking is good for you. It’s slimming.”
Would punching her in the face be slimming? Because that might happen today.
After we get our chairs and towels set up, I grab the spray bottle of sunscreen from my tote bag. Enzo always refuses it, but I like to spray it on the kids and definitely on myself. I’m the only one who ever gets sunburned, but isn’t sunscreen supposed to prevent cancer or something like that? Anyway, the kids don’t have a choice.
“Oh, Millie,” Suzette gasps as she watches me spray down Ada. “You’re not actuallyspraying sunscreenon your children, are you?”
I obviously am. “Yes…”
“Well, you know the spray has all sorts of toxic chemicals in it,” she says. “And it’s all in the air now. We’re basically allinhaling sunscreennow.”
Should I be more bothered about the fact that I might be inhaling sunscreen? Somehow, I’m not. “Uh-huh…”
“Also,” she adds, “it’s flammable.”
Nico’s eyes widen. “You mean we couldcatch on fire?”
“You’re not going to catch on fire from your sunscreen,” I tell him.
He looks disappointed.
Suzette reaches into her own bag and pulls out a white tube. “This is the best sunscreen on the market. It’s all naturalingredients,andit has SPF 200! You can’t find SPF 200 anywhere.”
