Sutton rolls her eyes, but again, that smile is still on her lips.
“I need to eat before dealing with your bullshit,” she grumbles, stepping out of the water, hair slicked back and dripping before standing on the sand beside Josie and me. “Want to get boardwalk pizza? We need to introduce Josie to Jersey’s finest.” I nod, then Sutton looks over to her sister.
“Claire, is it your break yet? I want pizza!”
Claire looks at her watch and grins, then nods as we make our way to our little camp.
“Someone should be here to replace me any minute. Can we get fries, too?” Claire asks.
“Oh, god, yes, please,” Lainey says, nearly whining.
“I want one of those big lemonades, too,” Josie says, reaching for her cover-up.
“You know, I don’t know if Graham has hadanyof this yet,” I say thoughtfully. The girls all turn to where he, Rowan, and Deck are trailing behind us, and I hand him a dry, sand-free towel.
“Are you ready to have a true Seaside Point summer lunch?” I ask. “All the boardwalk classics.”
He looks at me skeptically. “Why do I feel like I’m about to have a stomachache?”
I shrug, grinning and still floating in my happy state. “Because you are, but in that good way.” Reaching for my own cover-up, I grab it and slide it over my head. “You know, I could go for one of those ice cream truck ice pops, with the hard as rocks bubblegum eyeballs?”
“You’re disgusting, June,” Claire says with a grimace, stepping down from her chair as one of the other guards takes her place. She lifts her sticker-covered water bottle and takes a contemplative sip. “But now I really want soft serve with sprinkles.”
“We can get real ice cream after lunch,” Miles says, turning to Graham. “Have you had Kohr’s yet?” Graham looks at him, confused, then shakes his head.
“No, I don’t believe so. But I’m in for whatever. My treat,” Graham says, and I mourn the loss of his chest as he slides a T-shirt on. Grant, Miles, and Rowan all open their mouths to argue, but Decker slaps him on the shoulder.
“Sure thing, money bags. Make mine a triple, okay?”
Graham’s head tips back with a laugh before grabbing my hand and leading me up the sand to the boardwalk.
THIRTY-TWO
Life settles into a new kind of normal in the following weeks.
Just a few days after Graham formally accepted his new position, he asked if I knew a realtor in town. I may have cried a bit when he asked me, something that thoroughly entertained him, but once I got myself together, I called Maggie, who called Leanne, the best realtor in town. She was at Daytrip the very next day, eager to find out exactly what Graham was looking for.
By some stroke of luck, he found a townhouse just a block from the ocean that was about to go to market, and was able to put in an offer before it was formally up. I refused to even ask about the offer, for fear the number would make my tummy hurt. He closed on the new home in just two weeks.
Since then, at Graham’s insistence, I’ve spent most of my nights at his place. This unexpectedly created a bond between my boyfriend and brother, since both decided my apartment is a shithole and not up to their safety standards. I argue with both of them about it regularly, but the truth is, nights at Graham’sarenicer, and about half of my things have found their way into his drawers and closets.
Most mornings, we go to work together, sometimes walking if the weather is nice, and other times driving together. Somemornings, he leaves well before me, the workaholic that he is, needing to get a few extra hours in, or doesn’t end up going to the actual office at all, since he’s currently scouting the next Daytrip location. They’ve got their eye on Ocean View as a second Jersey Shore location. Rowan’s also been sending information for the Carolinas, Ocean City, Maryland, and Cape Cod, wanting to focus on the East Coast for the first few locations.
I spend my days bebopping around, helping wherever I’m needed, and keeping Graham’s day running smoothly while also working on the two new murals for Daytrip. While I haven’t heard back on the proposal I submitted to the town, I’ve already gotten approval from Rowan to do postcards for nearly every location. We’re ironing out the final details for a mural at the Keys location this fall. My business is thriving, with orders for paintings and digital prints coming in every single day. With each one, I become more confident that I’m doing the right thing with my life. Going back to teaching hasn’t even been on my radar for the last month, if I’m being honest.
I’ve never been happier.
Life has been so perfect, so I should have expected a bad day to hit eventually.
They don’t happen too often, but I am human, after all. Usually, I can snap myself out of it pretty quickly, but I stayed up late at my place painting last night and woke up with my period, which means I woke up tired, alone,andwith cramps. It’s gloomy out, the sun not yet burning off the clouds from last night's storm. Even worse, when I tried to start my car this morning, nothing happened. I had to call Miles to tow it to his garage, and I know that later today or tomorrow I’m going to be stuck arguing with him about how much I owe him, because he’s going to try to say it’s on the house since I’mlike a sister to him.
All this to say, when Graham walks in around ten, I’m grouchy and irritated and not feeling like my normal happy self.
“Morning, lady luck,” he says as he walks over to my desk, a grin on his lips. He doesn’t hide those anymore—not from me, and more often not from the world either. His laughter and smiles come freely now, something I normally love. But right now, I’m just not in the mood, especially as I try to find a spreadsheet I may or may not have accidentally wiped.
“Hey,” I grumble, eyes moving back to the screen. Thankfully, I remember there's a button to recover previous editions, and with a sigh, I restore the file.
“What’s wrong?” he asks instantly, brows furrowing.
