Chapter 21
Nadine
Whatever weirdness crawled up James' butt while I was out on the deck with my dad has disappeared by the time we get to dessert: a delicious, locally made marionberry pie with vanilla ice cream, of which I have two pieces and don’t feel even remotely guilty about it.
By the time we finish the dishes and my parents have headed to bed, I’m feeling the most content I have in a long time.
“Want to start a puzzle?” I ask.
James groans. “You and your puzzles. How about a walk on the beach?”
I glance outside skeptically. “You mean, walk on a pitch-black beach next to the angry Pacific Ocean in forty-degree weather in the rain?” I ask.
He grins. “Yes. Exactly.”
“I’m in.”
Five minutes later, we’re covered head to toe, me in the big college sweatshirt I’ve confiscated from him, and James in his black fleece pullover. We make the short walk to the beach, and thankfully the rain seems to have tapered off to little more than a faint mist.
It’s not as cold as I expected, and since nothing makes me crankier than sand in my shoes, I take off my socks and tennis shoes next to the steps, setting them on a large, unmistakable rock, so I’ll be able to find them again.
James follows suit, and we both roll our jeans up to mid-calf.
The sand is cold under my feet, but deliciously so.
I’ve always loved all my family’s trips to Cannon Beach.
It’s one of the prettiest places in the world, all rough waves and smooth sand and the famous Haystack Rock looming over the beach.
But despite the fact that summer is its high season, with bonfires and ice cream cones and sunshine, I’ve always loved it best in winter.
Nothing beats curling up with a good book and a blanket while it storms outside, or roasting marshmallows in the fireplace. And, of course, the puzzles.
But the best part is having the beach all to yourself.
Well. You and your best friend.
James seems to feel the same way, because he breathes deep and I practically feel him relax as he walks beside me.
It’s low tide, which makes the sandy expanse feel endless. In silent agreement we turn left, although it doesn’t really matter which way we go. We’re not in it for the destination.
We walk in silence for several moments before I speak. “So, what did you and my mom talk about that had you ready to poop your pants?” I ask.
He’s quiet for a minute, almost as though debating whether or not to tell me. Or how much to tell me.
“Your mom’s worried about you,” he says finally.
I whip my head around in surprise. “Seriously? Am I giving off damaged vibes that I don’t know about?”
James doesn’t crack a joke in response like I think he’s going to. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets, tilting his head back to the sky for a moment. “She thinks you’re not dealing with your breakup with Paulo.”
I open my mouth, then shut it.
Well, this is a twist I didn’t see coming.
Most of the time I feel like my mom and I are on the same page, but this catches me off guard. “She said that?”
