Page 28 of Tastes Like Summer

“Almost perfect pronunciation,” I tell him.

A big, adorable grin spreads across his face.

My god, when did he get cute? And are those dimples in his cheeks right beneath his scruff?

“I want to get it right. Be respectful of you,” he tells me.

“Thank you. But it’s unnecessary. I’ve gotten used to the English version, and, in a way, I’m glad only my family and relatives are the ones who call me that now. Serves as a way to compartmentalize everything.”

He deflates a bit. “Shame. It’s a beautiful name.”

I lean my cheek on my knee, staring up at him as my chest tightens at the soft expression on his face.

“You’re not as horrible as I thought you were,” I murmur, voice so low I wonder whether he even heard me over the sound of the children laughing as they play and the waves crashing on the shore.

“Neither are you.”

“Are we officially friends now, then?” I ask, my voice a bit too hopeful for my liking.

An odd look passes over his eyes, but it’s gone in a heartbeat. Quickly replaced by mirth. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He sticks his hand out toward me, and I place mine in his to shake it. I don’t know whether it was the refreshing coolness of his hands from holding the water bottle or the way he looked at me when I slipped my hand in his, but chills run up and down my spine at his touch. My lips part as I gaze up at him, speechless. I’d be embarrassed if I weren’t the only one without words.

I’m not sure who lets go first, but we eventually slip our hands away. The warm breeze blows between us as we grin at each other before Michael kills his water bottle.

“Are you feeling any better now?” I ask, after a couple of minutes of companionable silence.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

For a moment, we quietly watch the girls play paddle tennis on the beach, laughing without a care in the world. Something inside me unwinds and relaxes, and for a second, I feel like the girls are going to be okay.

As if reading my mind, he says, “Your daughters are amazing. Pretty sure they made Rach’s summer. Truly.”

I smile, reaching out to readjust his cap to face forward. “This is the correct way to wear a hat.” He mock glares at me. “And I could say the same about your daughter. It’s obviously been rough for both our families, but it looks like things are getting better, right?”

Michael frowns.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

Michael shakes his head but sighs. “I’m happy the girls found each other,” he starts. “But I’m concerned what it’ll do to Rachel once the summer is over. After Jessie, her mom, passed away, I moved back home for Rach. But even still, the place I got… It’s in a different school district. So she kind of lost a lot of her friends and has been struggling to make new ones. Any, actually. That’s why I’m extra grateful for your daughters. I just hope that her making new friends this summer will give her the courage and confidence to make new ones in the next school year, and not have her missing the friends she made at camp.”

I nod, absentmindedly making shapes in the sand with my index finger, loving the soft way it trickles from my fingertips when I cup some in my hands. “I understand what you mean.”

“Any advice? You’ve got more experience, and seem to be kicking ass at this single parent thing.”

I burst out a laugh, dry and sad. “You’re asking me for advice? I thought this entire time you’ve been telling me I suck as a parent.”

“C’mon. You and I both know you’re not a bad parent, and there wasn’t a second I believed otherwise. You’re a rockstar.”

“A washed up rockstar, maybe.” I sigh. “Most days, I feel like a failure.”

“What? Are you joking?”

I bite my lower lip and look away as my eyes begin to sting, not able to bear seeing the expression on his face as I admit that every time he doubted my parenting, I was doing it, too. “Well. I keep trying to keep it together for the girls, but I feel like I’m drowning half the time. Between this new job and juggling taking care of them, managing Emi’s medical condition and learning more about it, I’m exhausted. I don’t want them to see, but sometimes I feel like I can barely keep it together.”

To my horror, a tear slips down my cheek. I manage to quickly wipe it away with the back of my hand, but I’m sure he saw it. “Shit. I’m so embarrassed, sorry. I just had a rough work week, that’s all.”

From the corner of my eye, I watch as he instinctually stretches out an arm—I assume to pull me into him and offer some comfort. But Michael pulls it back, and shifts in his seat instead.