He groans. “Piss off, Ada.” He grabs a pillow and shoves it over his face.
“I love you.”
A grumble is muffled by his pillow.
“What was that, darling brother? I couldn’t quite catch your morning-after rambling.”
The pillow inches away. “I love you too. Mum will be excited you’re home, but…” Jake swats a hand in the air to banish me. “Give me ten more minutes, ’kay?”
He doesn’t emerge from his bedroom until six hours later, when he’s throwing on his blazer.
“The party’s starting in an hour!” he says.
No shit.
Jake races to do up his tie. My parents’ wedding anniversary is about the only time I’ll ever see my brother dress up. He’s so much like our father—always more comfortable in jeans and a flannel.
Almost breathless, he panics, “Where the hell are Mum and Dad?”
I arch an eyebrow.
“Okay. Stupid question. We both know where they are.” He holds out his fist. “Scissors, paper, rock for who has to drag them off the beach?”
“Nah. I’ll let you off the hook just this once. Can you check that Uncle Cain has picked up the cake?”
“What’s your Plan B if he hasn’t?”
I look pointedly at my brother.
“Me?” he squeaks. “Even after what happened the last time you organized one of these damn parties?”
“You wouldn’t be stupid enough to droptwocakes.”
Jake grins. “Do you even know me?”
It doesn’t take long to find my parents. They never wander far. Mum’s favorite spot is just over the road, under the big tree, in a little alcove that most tourists don’t know about. I shield my hand over my eyes and squint into the sun. It looks like they’ve just come back from a swim. Mum’s laughing and Dad’s toweling her off. It’s probably just an excuse to get his hands on her.
And I should think it’s gross, but…
My heart sinks. My parents set the bar too high. They still love each other so much. The way Dad looks at Mum… Will a man ever look at me like I’m his entire universe and he can’t remember how he breathed before he met me?
That’s not to say they never argue. They aren’t perfect. But if I try to pinpointwhenor aboutwhatthe problems are, I can’t. Hurt feelings never linger long in our house. My parents talk it over, kiss, and make up. When my last boyfriend didn’t see me for a week, I got a text that said, “Hey, wanna catch up? I could use a fuck.”
And they say romance is dead…
When I walk closer, I notice someone else standing on the beach. He’s tall, with black curls that shift in the salt air. I arch my neck. Am I crazy, or is that little perv checking out my mum’s ass?
I stomp over. “Are you a history groupie?” I bark at him.
The man turns. He’s…
Wow.
He can’t be much older than me. There are hardly any lines in his olive skin, and he has the bluest eyes that dance with surprise when they land on me.
He won’t disarm me with his boyish good looks. I plant my hand on my hip. “Well?” I snap. “Are you a fan of my mum?”
“What kidhasn’twatched a Dr. Elsie McLeod video?”
