Middleton-on-Sea smells like sunscreen, fish and chips, and summertime.
For the second year in a row, our group has taken over half the beach with our mismatched towels and snack bags that have probably fed half the local seagull population by now.
It’s warm but not scorching—rare for England. The sun is shining bright overhead, turning every colour more vibrant than the next and making the sea glitter.
Kat is stretched out next to me, book in hand, legs crossed at the ankles. Her skin is golden from our balcony tanning sessions, and I can’t take my eyes off her. She has this relaxed, totally focused expression when she reads that makes me want to kiss her. Constantly. So I do.
“Page 128,” I murmur, brushing a kiss to her bare shoulder.
With a smile, she slides a bookmark between the pages and turns to me. I lean over her and kiss her delicious lips. They taste like strawberry ice cream and something so uniquely Kat. When she moved into my flat a few months ago, she brought this addictive smell with her.
A loud laugh booms over the sand, and I glance down to the water’s edge. Finn is chasing a red football down the shoreline, an eight-year-old boy hot on his heels, shrieking with laughter. That kid has the same boisterous laugh as his stepdad, and you’d swear they were related. Yes, my best friend’s dream finally came true—or at least it’s in very good shape. He’s got the wife and the kid, even though it’s only been a year and a half since we had that conversation in the changing rooms. Sam might not be his biological son, but Finn loves him just as much as if he were blood. They even kind of look alike, with their dark hair and clear blue eyes. Well, the kid doesn’t have a buzz cut. Thank goodness for that.
“Ha! You couldn’t catch me if you tried!” Sam says, scrambling away from Finn.
Finn just snorts. “I could catch you in my sleep.”
His wife, Everly, shakes her head from her beach towel, flipping a page in her magazine, but I can see the faintest smile on her lips.
Just then, Wade walks by, Teddy balanced on his hip. Roxy is chasing after them with sunscreen in one hand and a determined look in her eyes.
“No!” the two-year-old squeals. “No cream! Cream bad!”
“Teddy,” Roxy sighs. “If I have to wrestle you like a greased otter in public, so help me—”
Nearby, Cameron slumps into the sand beside Fallon, letting out a groan so long it might have cracked open the earth. He just came back from a date with a girl at a café.
“What happened?” Millie asks, stopping the process of painting her nails in bright yellow. “She seemed normal enough.”
Kat nods. “Yeah, we vetted her.”
Fallon starts knitting her sweater with just a little more vigor, pretending to be consumed by the task, but I can tell she’s as interested in hearing the story as the rest of us. Ormostof us, at least. Finn is still chasing after his kid, and Wade and Roxy are now wrestling Teddy.
“She broughther dad on the date.On purpose. Said it was to ‘see how I’d react under pressure.’”
“Wow. That’s unhinged,” I say, glad to be far from the dating world. “You should get a sticker or something for having survived that.”
“I don’t know, man,” he says, running a fistful of sand through his hands. “Maybe I should just quit altogether.”
“Statistically speaking,” Fallon begins, not looking up, and we all groan. “Sixty percent of people lie on dating apps anyway. So, it might not be how you want to start a relationship.”
His eyes flit to her, then settle on the sand beneath him. “She’s right.”
“Ah, don’t be like that, lad,” I say. “If Grumpy Cal found his match, there’s a girl out there for you.”
Callum chucks a volleyball at me in retribution, but I catch it with ease. Thankfully, I’ve fully recovered from that nasty accident last year. It took me a solid four months, but my reflexes and form are as sharp as ever.
Teddy squeals again as Wade finally pins him with the precision of a seasoned striker, and Roxy swoops in with the sunscreen. I widen my eyes slightly, glad not to have to be a toddler wrangler myself.
Kat turns to me, lowering her book. Her sunglasses slide down the bridge of her nose, and her eyes meet mine. Warm. Tired. Mischievous. My heart does a little leap. Yeah, I think I made the right choice.
“Stop staring,” she whispers.
“Can’t,” I murmur, sliding my hand across her back. “You’re too fit.”
We stay there the rest of the day, laughing, talking about our summer plans—Kat and I are going to Uganda for a third time—and decompressing about the season ahead.
The sun sinks low on the horizon as someone passes around ice lollies, Millie snaps some photos, and Teddy tries to bury Wade in sand with his toy shovel. Finn is arguing with Sam over whether they both cheated, and Fallon is stating a statistic about seagulls that no one asked for.
