To the Beach and Back

Chapter 22

In the morning, I wake up in an empty house feeling like a thousand pounds of sand is pressing against my chest.

Oh my God.

What was I thinking?

Shame burns my cheeks as memories of last night flash in my head like a bad movie. Of me acting all sassy and brazen in front of my ex. Of me flirting with Dave. The way I stripped to the bone and skinny dipped in the dark knowing full well that there was a chance Nick sneaked a peek.

Me, kissing Nick.

I squint, pressing fingertips to my temples as I step out of bed and go to the bathroom, my hair a tangled cobweb of curls from sleeping on it wet. I stare hard at myself in the mirror, the enchanting, vivacious creature I had imagined myself being last night now resembles a wrinkled crypt keeper.

A pounding headache starts to form above my neck from the mixture of alcohol and constant tossing and turning.

Coffee.

I need coffee desperately, but there is no Allyse this morning, knocking gently on my bedroom door like she did the first morning we stayed together, carrying a tray full of coffee with a shy, hesitant smile. After I amble down the stairs from the attic, each step treads creaking in accusations, I pause at Allyse's open bedroom door, the bed now neatly made, and pillows aligned. She's done so many other things for me during the past two weeks, and how have I repaid her?

I kissed her boyfriend.

It doesn't matter that they had broken up. It doesn't matter that I was married to Nick first or that we had a child together or that all we did was kiss.

It was wrong.

And what would have happened had the kayak not crashed into my leg, breaking the moonlit spell between us?

I don't know the answer to that.

In the kitchen, I brew an entire pot of dark roast in hopes that twelve ounces of caffeine will give me the answer. The coffee pot soon hisses and fizzles as the last of the water peculates through the filter. I fill a mug and take it to the family room, sinking into a plush recliner and pulling a blanket over my bare legs. I'd like to think that nothing more would have happened, that common sense would kick in, making me back away from Nick before things escalated, even though he's the reason why I'm here at the beach.

Me, the self-proclaimed sand-hating non-beach person.

After all, that was my plan.

When Nick asked me to join him in Ocean City to work on Haven ... and to spend time together, just the two of us, it sparkled something within me. That whisper of reconciliation hope, however small, motivated my last-minute emergency makeover, spending a fortune on new clothes, spa treatments, and beauty products. Add in the insane amount of freebies Sonya gave me that I diligently used due to the slim chance Nick might see me as a different person ... a laid-back, adventurous, beach person.

Well, it worked.

What did he say last night? "Or maybe it's not too late for us, Marcie."

I should be ecstatic over this. Sonya would be. That's for sure. Maybe I should call her in case she can help me make sense of this.

I haul myself from the recliner and walk to the kitchen counter where I had tossed my tote bag last night. I dig out my phone and refill my coffee, calculating the days of her vacation in my head ... she left for Port Canaveral a couple of days after gifting me those products for her comped eight-night cruise. Factor in a day of travel, surely, she's home by now and she's an early riser, so calling her shouldn't be a problem.