The Bookstore on the Beach - Brenda Novak Page 0,63
this charming.
You never wanted me when we were in high school. What’s changed?
I told you. I think I missed out on someone special. You’ll be there in the morning, right?
She twisted her wedding ring around and around on her finger.
Say yes, Autumn, he wrote when she didn’t respond for several minutes.
“What do I do?” she muttered.
Where do you want to meet?
The lifeguard chair where I was sitting the day you almost drowned. I think it was when I was back for the summer my first year of college.
You know I faked that, right?
Yeah. [[laughing emoji]]
God, I loved you, she wrote. And I certainly didn’t make a secret of it. [[rolling eyes emoji]]
I’m just hoping there’s enough of that left. Good night.
Autumn read over their exchange four times before she finally set her phone aside. She hated the thought that by opening herself up to a relationship with Quinn, she’d be betraying Nick. Or that it might upset her children. They’d already been through so much. But just texting with Quinn made her feel good—young and attractive with prospects, instead of a tired mom weighed down for far too long with grief.
If she had the chance to find happiness again, shouldn’t she take it?
* * *
At six, Autumn got up and put on her swimsuit—although she changed twice before she found the most flattering one. It had been a long time since she’d even considered how she might look in a bikini and was glad that, as rough as the past nineteen months had been, she hadn’t gained any weight. If anything, she was thinner than she’d been before Nick went missing. But she hadn’t worked out much and didn’t think she’d be able to keep up with a man as fit as Quinn looked if they ended up going jogging.
She thought she might be able to swim with him, though. She was a much stronger swimmer than she’d let on that day she’d made him come into the water to haul her back to shore. She’d grown up playing in the ocean, had never been afraid of the sea.
Or they could walk. He’d made it sound as though he’d be satisfied with any one of the three.
She put on her shorts and pulled a sports tank on over her bikini, tied her hair up in a messy bun and washed her face and brushed her teeth before slipping her feet into her newest pair of sneakers.
Dawn was breaking. Streaks of bronze, yellow and orange bled across the sky in a watercolor-like haze. It was a beautiful sight, but it wasn’t the reason she was excited to get out of the house. She’d slept only in fits and starts and had awakened before her alarm, at which point she’d simply looked at the picture Quinn had sent last night.
She was acting like the infatuated teenage girl who’d followed him around twenty years ago, she realized. She would’ve thought she’d have matured more than that. But those years felt like they’d passed in the blink of an eye, and she was still that young girl whose heart skipped a beat every time she encountered him.
She checked out her window to see if anyone was stirring in the house. Her mother would be up at six-thirty—seven at the latest—but didn’t seem to be moving around quite yet.
Autumn breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t want her mother to see her go, even though she could say she went for a swim in the ocean, if Mary asked, and doubted it would seem strange.
Leaving her apartment unlocked, she headed down the stairs, moving as quietly as possible, and stepped out into the warm morning air. She’d be back before her kids were up. They wouldn’t even miss her. And they certainly couldn’t hear her leave, so she didn’t know why she was being so careful. It wasn’t as if she had to worry about the sound of the car. With the beach only a block away, there was no point in driving.
The humidity was already high, and her shirt was sticking to her by the time she stepped onto the sand. A dip in the ocean would feel nice, she thought, and smiled, feeling a burst of excitement as she made her way to the guard’s station.
She could see Quinn leaning against the wooden frame, waiting for her. He was shirtless—wearing only a pair of swim trunks, which sat low on his lean hips, and some running shoes.