Back home, I got the kids changed and into bed. They fell asleep immediately, worn out from the evening. Jason texted again, asking if I could send videos and photos of the concert. I sighed, deciding it was the least I could do. After I sent them, he called.
“Hi,” he said, his voice apologetic. “I’m so sorry this happened. I feel awful.”
“It’s fine,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral. “I had it handled. We’ll see you tomorrow.” I was short with him, but it felt nice to hear him sounding guilty for once.
After we hung up, I stared at my phone, tempted to text Will. Instead, I turned onThe Real Housewives of New Jerseyand let their drama distract me from creating any of my own.
CHAPTER 9
HAPPY HOUR
WILL
Work had been nonstop. Three closings, a stubborn appraisal, and a client who changed his mind halfway through escrow. By Friday, I was wired and worn out. The kids were with Kelly this week, and the house was too quiet—cleaner, too, which somehow made it worse.
I texted Evan around five.
Will: Beer?
Evan: Bear and I were going to pick up chicks, but we can make time for you.
Will: Sancho’s 5:30?
Evan: Ten-four.
I met my best friend, Evan, back in fifth grade during junior lifeguards. We hit it off instantly and started surfing together whenever we could. His parents split up when we were inseventh grade, and after that, Evan spent more time at our house than his own. My mom picked up on what was going on at home. She always made sure he was fed, looked after, and knew he had a place with us. Over time, he became more than just my best friend. He became my brother.
Evan went on to become an incredible surfer. He traveled the world chasing waves and living that untethered life most people only dream about. But a bad wipeout a couple of years ago forced him to slow down. That’s when he came back to Orange County and started teaching private surf lessons just for a little income and something to do. It didn’t take long for that to turn into a full surf school. That’s Evan for you—laid back on the outside, all heart and hustle underneath.
He was my sounding board during my divorce, the one person who always showed up without needing the full story. That’s how it’s been for us our whole lives. He stuck by me as I juggled law school, getting back together with Kelly, marriage, the birth of my children, all while never resenting the fact we were in different places in our lives.
Besides me, Bear has been a constant for Evan ever since moving back to O.C. This beast of a mutt pulled at his heartstrings during an adoption event held at the beach and the two have been inseparable. My kids love having Bear around to play with every time Uncle Evan comes over. Times may have changed since junior lifeguards but Evan and I are still riding the waves of life together. But now, it’s the three of us.
Sancho’s was near the beach. No neon signs, no TVs blasting sports commentary. Just cold drinks, decent tacos, and a patio strung with white lights that had probably been up since July. The kind of place where you ordered at the counter, grabbed a number on a stick, and hoped your table wasn’t sticky.
December air skimmed through the open windows—cool enough for a hoodie, not cold enough for real winter. The surfwas close enough to smell it, and you could hear the occasional bike chain click as someone coasted by on their way down Balboa.
It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t trying to be. And that’s what made it perfect.
When I arrived, Bear was already curled up under our table, leash looped around the leg of Evan’s chair like he’d claimed it.
“William,” Evan said as I slid into the seat across from me, grabbing the beer he ordered for me. “Everything okay? You’re not dying, are you?”
“What? No.”
“Getting married?”
I shook my head. “Definitely not.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Then what’s with the emergency beer meeting?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What emergency? Can’t a guy have a beer with his best friend?”
“You’ve got something going on. You would have planned this dinner last week if something wasn’t on your mind.”
I leaned back, watching the slow roll of traffic. “There’s this woman.”
Evan clutched his chest like I’d just confirmed all his suspicions. “I’m shocked.”
