Why does he feel familiar?
Like a name on the tip of my tongue, or a face from a story I read a long time ago and never quite finished.
As soon as we get back late in the afternoon, Abigail tells me Colin called. I thank her and head straight to the bedroom. When I pick up my phone from the nightstand, I see severalmissed calls from him.
First, a shower. Then I’ll call back.
I’m still under the spray when Alicia knocks to say her dad is calling me. I ask her to answer while I finish up.
When I step back into the room, she hands me the phone.
“Hi, Colin.”
The conversation unfolds exactly as I knew it would. He’s upset… hurt that we came without him. When he tells me he’d planned to take us to Smorgasburg in Prospect Park, guilt pricks at me. Briefly. Then I push it aside. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve waited months for him to make time for this trip.
That’s why, when he offers to come out and shorten it, I say no.
Maybe the distance will do us good. Maybe this impulsive decision will finally force him to reconsider his priorities.
After we hang up, I sit on the edge of the bed with my head bowed, feeling wrung out. Then Alicia calls for me, dinner’s ready, and she’s starving. The urgency in her voice makes me smile despite myself.
Dinner is quiet, but not tense. The kids chatter about their day, already planning tomorrow. Later, as they roast s’mores, Ethan steals a few from Alicia just to make her pout. Her indignant expression makes all of us laugh.
When I finally lie down, I fall asleep for the first time in a long while without that persistent hollow ache… without the weight of Colin’s absence pressing into the dark beside me.
I jolt awake, heart racing, sitting upright in bed. It feels as though I’ve fled a nightmare, though no images remain… only a lingering unease, settling faintly in my chest. I reach for my phone and tap the screen. Just past five. Too early, and I already know sleep won’t come back.
I slip into a swimsuit, pull on a light beach cover-up, and step outside. The air is cool against my skin, carrying the faint brine of the ocean. Along the horizon, dawn begins to stir, soft grays dissolving into pale pinks.
The moment I wade into the water, ignoring the biting chill of its cold, it washes away whatever had followed me out of sleep. The waves both cradle and resist me, drawing me into their steady cadence, stripping my thoughts down to nothing but breath and movement.
I swim until time loses its meaning, until the ache in my arms and legs reminds me I am no longer the girl who could disappear into the water for hours without pause. I roll onto my back and let the sea hold me, the sky stretching endlessly above.
Back on the sand, I’m slipping my cover-up on when a sharp bark breaks the stillness. I turn just in time to see Sam racing toward me, tail high, sand flying beneath his paws. Before he can reach me, Alexander’s voice cuts through the air, low, firm.
“Sam, down.”
The dog stops instantly, obedience snapping into place, then trots the remaining distance with his tongue lolling happily.
“Good morning,” I say as Alexander approaches.
“Good morning.” His expression softens, the command in his voice giving way to warmth. “Swimming in water that cold, this early?”
I smile, lifting one shoulder. “Didn’t even notice. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little cold water.”
He laughs. A deep, resonant sound that carries easily across the shore. “No. There are very few things in this life that I fear. Water isn’t one of them.”
Something in the way he says it makes me pause, as though the words carry a weight I can’t quite see. I find myself wondering what a man like him would be afraid of.
“Are you two going for a swim as well?” I ask.
“We’re heading out to fish,” he says. “The weather’s good today. I want to make the most of it.”
He doesn’t strike me as the fishing type, but I keep the thought to myself. “Then I won’t keep you. Happy fishing.”
I crouch to scratch Sam behind the ears, and as I turn to leave, Alexander’s voice stops me.
“Do you like fish, Cecily?”
