“Hey, just wanted to say hi.” Delete.
“How are the fish? Has Pippa come home?” Delete.
“I miss you.” Absolutely not. Delete.
I stared at the screen, then typed:
Me: Thinking about you.
Send.
Down by the water, the man stopped. Hunched over a little. Didn’t look like a shell collector. Maybe he was looking for shark teeth.
Seconds passed.
Then my phone pinged.
I jumped. At least the coffee that sloshed onto my wrist wasn’t hot.
Noah: What a coincidence. I’m doing the same thing.
My stomach flipped, and I stared at the message. Had I expected him to answer? Maybe? But not right away.
Me: Is that so?
Noah: Yup. In fact, I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.
I blinked. Heat bloomed in my cheeks. My heart was pounding even though I felt lighter than I had in weeks.
Me: Who is this again?
Noah: Just a guy you met on vacation.
Me: Oh, right. I vaguely recall...
Down on the beach, the man stood still again.
He was facing this way now, with a phone in his hand.
I watched him for a long second.
His build. His posture. The way he held his head slightly tilted.
Another ping.
Noah: What are you wearing?
I snorted.
Me: Silk pajamas and fluffy slippers, of course. Lazing around my castle.
Noah: You’d look just as good in shorts and a sweatshirt—barefoot.
I laughed, but then…glanced down…at my shorts and one of my oldest hoodies, stained with coffee now. At my bare feet.
My fingers hovered over the touchscreen.
Me: What about you?
