Butterscotch and Bailey get to work, digging in their own patches of sand. They, too, send it flying.
Chuckling at their zealous digging, I slip off my sneakers and socks and put them to the side. Troy does the same with his and helps Nova remove her cute little pink shoes.
Troy takes one bucket and fills it with water. He carefully pours it on the sand where we’re working, making sure it’s wet. He goes back to get some more water.
Nova scoops up a shovel full of wet sand. She walks the two feet to one of the buckets and dumps the sand into it. She repeats the cycle. Dig, toddle, dump.
I take one of the other buckets and fill it with sand like I used to do with Amelia. Instead of sadness taking root in me like I thought it would, joy slips in as I work.
“Should we make the sandcastle big enough for Butterscotch to live in?” I ask Nova. My smile is as big as the feeling of freedom that courses through my body.
She vigorously nods.
I don’t relive my memories of building sandcastles with my daughter. This—building castles with Nova—is different. Instead of the briny ocean scent on the breeze, the air is rich with the soothing pine scent of the forest. The water isn’t rushing up the beach as the tide advances. Seagulls aren’t squawking overhead. Here, several ducks quack and bob on the water not far from us.
Troy returns with another bucket of water. His wicked grin is the only warning I get. He splashes the contents at me. Several cold droplets hit me in the face. I giggle-shriek and scramble away from him.
“Hey, you’re not playing fair,” I protest, the wide curve of my lips saying otherwise.
Nova jumps to her feet and giggles at my reactions. Troy flicks water at her, and she giggles louder.
Nova and I share an impish glance, and we both, by some unspoken agreement, lunge at him. He retreats a few feet into the water, his eyes alight with mischief.
We chase after him, still laughing. Nova attempts to splash him, but her water droplets don’t go far enough.
“Watch and learn, Nova,” I say and send a large wave at Troy. Water splashes his legs, abs, and chest. Droplets sparkle in the sun and travel down his hard body.Lucky droplets.
“That’s the best you can do?” Troy taunts, his sexy grin turning me heated.
The dogs bark excitedly at our game, unable to join us because their leashes are attached to the spike in the sand. I’m sure if given a chance, they’d be in the water, splashing us.
Troy lunges toward Nova, scoops her up, and tosses her in the sky. Her squeaked giggles have me laughing even harder.
He lowers her to the sand. We call a truce and return to our sandcastle in progress. Nova crouches next to the hole that Butterscotch has been digging and starts digging there.
I’m about to help her, but Troy pulls me into his arms. One second, I’m smiling at him, grateful he invited me along. The next, his mouth is on mine, and he’s reminding me how good we are together. My arms loop around his neck.
Troy deepens the kiss, but it only lasts a brief moment. He pulls away. The heat in his eyes tells me he would keep kissing me but that’s not why we are here. We’re here to spend time with Nova.
Grinning, we get back to building the sandcastle, talking to Nova and laughing with her as we work.
I pull my phone from my pocket. The lighting is perfect for the kinds of photos I want to take, with the sun shining behind Nova, haloing her head. Nova’s expression as she works on the sandcastle with Troy is too cute not to take pictures of her.
I take a dozen photos of them together and of them separately, none with them looking at the camera. “Hey, you two,” I say to gain their attention. They turn my way, and I take several more photos of them together, but this time with them smiling at the camera.
“What an adorable family,” a female voice gushes not far from us.
I glance up from the phone. A couple in their sixties is walking toward us. They’re holding hands, their gazes on us, and they’re smiling.
Heat flushes my cheeks. I pretend I didn’t hear them, lower to my knees, and pat the sand on the side of the castle. Troy doesn’t seem to hear her as he doesn’t say a word or react to her comment. Troy, Nova, and I aren’t a family—mother and father and child. But I know someone who would like Troy to be part of her family with Nova.
It was obvious when I interviewed Olivia last month for the PTSD articles that she cares for Troy as more than just a close friend. Does she even know I’m here with Troy and her daughter?
I go back to working on the sandcastle, but my mind keeps returning to how cute Troy and Nova are together. She’s not his daughter, but he clearly loves her like one. He really is great with kids. I saw that in the spring while he was playing street hockey with the kids in Simone and Lucas’s neighborhood.
Troy is meant to be a father, and he wants to be one eventually.
He has frequently told me he loves me, and I don’t doubt it. But maybe he’s meant to have children with someone else. Maybe in time he’ll realize that too.
