“Hmm.” Austin’s frown deepened. “I should probably make a backup plan. Just in case.”
Before I could respond, thundering feet announced the arrival of my other three kids. Rome burst into the kitchen first, his dark hair sticking up in every direction, already talking at full volume. “Is it time to go? Are we leaving now? Can I bring my binoculars? What if we see whales? Do you think there’ll be crabs? I want to catch a crab. A big one. Can we?—”
“Rome, breathe,” I said.
I crossed to the broom closet, pulled out a big plastic tote bag, and pressed it into his hands. “Here—take this. All of you. Go outto the garage and find the beach toys. Shovels, buckets, anything inflatable that isn’t leaking. If it holds air, it goes in the bag.”
The boys grabbed it like I’d handed them a treasure map and tore off toward the garage, chattering over each other about who would find what.
“Alright,” Michael said, looking a little deflated. “I guess I’ll make pancakes when they get back?”
The drive to Half Moon Bay took forty-five minutes, and I spent most of it listening to Rome’s running commentary on everything we passed while Austin periodically announced our estimated arrival time. Paris sang to herself in the back seat, and Aspen dozed against her car seat.
I’d chosen this beach deliberately—far enough from San Jose that we wouldn’t run into neighbors or colleagues, but close enough that we could leave quickly if things went badly. The beach was wide and relatively uncrowded, with tide pools at the north end and plenty of space.
If things went badly.
My stomach twisted. What if Patrick’s family hated me? What if my kids resented him? What if this whole thing was a terrible mistake?
Then I remembered Patrick outside The Lounge, how he’d looked at me and said “I’m not letting this go” with such conviction it made my knees weak. The memory of his hand holding mine—solid, warm, exactly what I needed.
It felt right. It felt real.
We pulled into the beach parking lot at exactly 9:30 AM, and my heart jumped when I spotted the Land Rover already there. Patrick stood beside it, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, his ginger curls catching the morning sun. The older children spilled out around him in various states of readiness as Patrick stood next to Maggie, still in her car seat.
He looked up when I parked. Smiled. And just like that, the nervousness settled.
I parked next to his car and took a deep breath before opening my door. The sounds of the beach rushed in—waves, seagulls, the distant laughter of other families. My kids tumbled out, suddenly shy in the presence of strangers.
Patrick’s kids had gone equally quiet as he lifted Maggie out of her car seat. Six pairs of eyes on my four.
“Everyone,” Patrick said, his Scottish accent somehow more pronounced in the open air, “this is Mrs. Carideo and her family.”
“Just Theresa is fine,” I said quickly, taking Aspen by the hand and moving to stand beside him. The proximity felt natural, our shoulders nearly touching. “And this is Austin, Rome, Paris, and Aspen.”
I pointed to each child. Austin hung back a bit, eyeing Patrick’s kids with that look he got when he was trying to figure something out.
Rome had no such reservations. He bounded forward. “You really havesixkids? That’s so many! Do they fight a lot? We fight sometimes, but Mom says it’s normal.”
“Rome,” I said, trying not to laugh.
Patrick grinned. “Yeah, they fight. Especially these two.” He ruffled the hair of the identical twins, who immediately smacked his hands away. “Carson and Cory. Good luck telling them apart.”
“I’m Carson,” one declared.
“No,I’mCarson,” the other said, and they both dissolved into giggles.
“They swap their shoelaces,” Patrick said. “Can’t trust either of them.”
“Cool!” Rome’s eyes lit up. “Austin and I could do that, but we don’t look the same. Can you teach us stuff to trick people?”
Paris pushed forward, hands on her hips. “I’m Paris and I’m five. Do you have any girls? Because all I have are stupid brothers.”
“Hey!” Rome protested.
“This is my only girl, she’s my baby,” Patrick said, shifting Maggie a little higher in his arms. He glanced down at her with a soft, proud smile. “Her name is Maggie. And this is Alec and Brody.” He pointed to each one. “And that shy one hiding behind Alec is Eoin. He just likes to stay close.”
“I’m not shy,” Eoin announced, stepping out. “I’m four.”
