AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We rode in silence until Blake sang a line about bringing fresh fajitas home. “I don’t think fajitas work as takeout,” Kyle said.
“Right, there would be no sizzle.”
“And what are fajitas without the sizzle. That’s the fun part.” He reached across the console and poked me in the thigh.
We drove on, singing with the radio, sometimes making up our own words. The miles passed in a blur. The single-lane mountain road became a busy interstate. Office parks and chain stores replaced grassy marshes and empty fields. In the back seat, Oliver became restless, standing and spinning, changing his seat from behind Kyle to behind me.
Finally, we turned off the highway and onto the back roads of Gloucester. With my window open, I could smell the salt air. Soon the dark-blue, almost black waters of the Atlantic Ocean came into view.
Down on the beach, a smattering of people relaxed in lounge chairs and engaged in lively discussions, read books, or stared out at the waves, mesmerized. I held Oliver’s leash in one hand and Kyle’s hand with my other. Together, the three of us walked the long rocky shoreline. Thebright-blue sky above me gave me a feeling of serenity, and the sound of the waves breaking against the shore soothed me.This is perfect. This is all I need,I thought.
We spread a blanket and napped with the hot sun warming our skin. I woke to Kyle playing fetch with Oliver, the little guy leaping and bounding through the waves to retrieve a rope with a large knot at the end, his red fur dripping wet. Each time he brought the rope back, he shook himself off, sending droplets of water flying through the air in all directions.
After a few hours at the beach, we headed to a seafood restaurant, the kind where you ordered at a counter and sat at picnic tables waiting for them to call your number. I ordered blackened-fish tacos, and Kyle asked for the twelve-ounce lobster roll with onion rings. When he went to retrieve our food, I fed Oliver a dog biscuit. Kyle’s phone, sitting on the other side of the table where he’d left it, vibrated, catching my attention. A text flashed across the top of the screen. No name was assigned to the number it came from. I read the words before the message disappeared:We need to talk. It’s important.
When Kyle returned, he picked up his phone and swiped at the screen. His facial muscles tensed, and his eyelid twitched as he stared down at it. He clenched and unclenched the fist of his free hand over and over again.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He rubbed the hollow of his neck and slid the phone into his back pocket. “Pain-in-the-ass client.”
“I thought you were working on the Gunthers’ house.”
“Different client. I forgot napkins.” He took off for the counter. As I watched him walk away, a cool breeze blew, and I shivered.
“Give your aunt my apologies,” Kyle said, zippering his coat. “Tell her I’ll stop by sometime during the week to put her patio furniture out.”
“You’re really not coming?” For over a week, we’d had plans to have breakfast with Dana and Aunt Izzie this morning.
“I have to meet with this client.” He held up his cell phone and shook it. I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “The one who texted me yesterday.”
“But it’s Sunday.”
He shrugged. “He’s threatening to use someone else. I don’t want to lose the business.”
“Can’t you meet with him after breakfast? You haven’t seen Aunt Izzie in ages.”
“It’s the only time he’s available. Sorry.” He kissed me goodbye, patted Oliver on the head, and slipped out the front door.
From the window, I watched him climb into the Jeep’s driver’s seat. With his chin resting on his chest, he held his phone to his ear. He sat that way for several seconds without moving, and then he slammed his phone down in the passenger seat. His tires squealed as he peeled out of his parking spot by the garage. On the road, a jogger approached our driveway. I pounded on the glass, trying to get Kyle’s attention. His vehicle raced toward the street as if Dale EarnhardtJr. were driving it. The jogger had her head down, staring at her phone. She reached the outer edge of our driveway. The Jeep kept rolling. I pounded harder, yelling, “Watch out.” The brake lights lit up, and Kyle’s car skidded to a stop. The jogger lifted her head and swerved to her right, the nylon from her jacket grazing the Jeep’s bumper.
Kyle waved at her as if to say sorry. She glared at him and continued on her run. Whoever this client was, they had gotten under my husband’s skin. His entire demeanor had changed since receiving that text yesterday. I’d never seen him so distracted.
When Oliver and I arrived at Aunt Izzie’s, the dog charged up the stairs and into the kitchen, his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out ofhis mouth. Aunt Izzie and Dana sat at the table in front of plates with rivers of maple syrup running over them. Dana plucked a strip of bacon off a platter in the center of the table. Oliver barked and jumped up on her legs. “Not for dogs,” she said, pushing the puppy off her. Oliver jumped up on her again. “Down, Deeogee.” She pushed him again. “I see the training’s going well.”
“He responds better to his name,” I said.
“Where’s Kyle?” Aunt Izzie asked.
“He’s working.”
“Are you fighting again?” Dana asked.
“Things are great.” I transferred a stack of blueberry pancakes from the griddle to a plate. “We drove down to the shore yesterday. Had a fun day.”
As I took my seat, I noticed the June issue ofMountain Views Magazinein the center of the table. Hank smiled up at me from the cover, both of his dimples engaged. I flipped the magazine over. I didn’t like looking at him without his facial hair. Kyle was right. The beard had made Hank look mean. The dimples made him seem good natured, like someone who would go out of his way not to hurt someone.
“I never realized he was so good looking,” Dana said.
