To the Beach and Back

Chapter 17

I'm beyond freaked out by the time we get back to Ryan's street, with him ducking into Holda's house after saying good night and me dashing inside his.

I need to talk to Allyse, but she's not here.

There's no note, no text message, no nothing, even though it's eight o'clock and she had planned on burying herself in a documentary series. I rush out the back sliding glass door, hoping to find her and Holda enjoying a glass of wine and chatting, but only Spencer is outside on his deck, sitting in near darkness as though lost in thoughts.

Poor kid.

Part of me wants to join him. I want to have the same kind of talk about his divorce that Ryan had with me last week, but he stands and tucks his chair underneath his patio, aligning it to perfection.

Before he can duck inside his house, I call out, "Hey, Spencer, have you seen Allyse?"

Spencer startles from the sound of my voice, but as a trio of college girls walk past on the sidewalk, their arms linked and laughter joyous, he hooks his thumb toward oceanside. "Oh, hey, Marcie, she's with Holda on the beach, searching for buried treasure."

Oh.

Wow, that sounds like fun, and I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy over not being invited. "Thanks, Spencer. And hey ... do you want to chat or anything? I could make us some tea."

He glances back at the dark water for a few seconds, giving me the urge to hug him, before shaking his head. "No ... thanks, but maybe another day."

Always another day.

I bid him good night and go back inside. Ryan's house, however gorgeous, now feels empty and lonely compared to Haven without friends and sounds of construction. I sink onto his gray sofa, tightening my legs into a ball with a pillow held to my chin.

Maybe I should just go to bed.

After all, I only have one more week of vacation and there's a ton of painting, staining, and power-washing to do before meeting with the real estate agent on Friday. After all, that's why I'm here at the beach ... to get Haven ready to sell. But my mind is still swirling about my near kiss with Ryan so instead, I pull my cell phone out of my back pocket and send Allyse a text.

Hey, where are you and Holda? I'm coming to join you.

Seconds later, I hear a beep coming from the foyer.

I track it and see Allyse's cell on the top of the shoe rack, as though she placed it there while putting on her shoes and forgot about it. Her sweatshirt is also on the kitchen counter, along with a post-it note I must have missed earlier.

HEY, I'M ON THE BEACH WITH HOLDA, it reads. COME JOIN US!

My heart warms. Allyse did invite me ... only she left her cell phone and I foolishly had never gotten Holda's phone number.

I could get it from Ryan ...

But no, we've already said our goodbyes since he's leaving for home at 4:00 in the morning to beat the traffic. Another conversation might lead to more ... unless I just imagined our connection earlier on the pier.

I mean, Ryan is a handsome, vibrant, energetic man.

He could easily attract a woman twenty years his junior, thirty, even, especially since he's also funny, successful and has a gorgeous beach house to boot. Isn't that the way it always goes? Older men seek younger women. That's what my father did to my mother, making her feel like a worn dish rag left under the sink to rot. That's what Nick did to me.