“Can’t we just go to Applebee’s and call it a night?” I asked, feeling queasy.
“One,” Nina said, “Applebee’s doesn’t have an actual stage, which is specifically mentioned in your list. And two, you know I would never set foot inside an Applebee’s, Josephine.”
I pulled my hat over my eyes again. “Good, fewer people to watch me.”
Nina turned to the girls. “Are you in?”
And they were, which meant I had no choice. I knew I had to do it, and sooner rather than later. I’d only hoped the audience would be smaller and of the Applebee’s variety.
After settling the details of the event, which was to take place the following Friday night, the girls goaded Nina into teaching them how to do handstands on the beach, leaving me to sit in awkward silence with Alex, as Mia, Kitty, and Greyson tumbled into the sand, trying to imitate Nina’s graceful balance.
“Think I should sing the song about my injured hand for karaoke?” The thin white scar on his finger shone in the sunlight.
I knew he was trying to make me laugh, but I wasn’t in the mood. “I don’t think anyone would get it.”
Alex turned his chair to face me. “You seem mad at me.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why can’t you look at me?”
I pivoted my chair to face him, taking in the stubble on his jaw, the patches of silver along his temples that, even in the two months we’d known each other, had expanded. “See? I’m looking at you. I’m not mad.”
“Upset, then.”
I knew he wouldn’t drop this unless I said something. “August is a hard month, okay? My nephew and I have the same birthday. It’s got nothing to do with you.” Mostly true.
“I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you know.”
Alex looked as if he wanted to say something else, but I hopped from my chair to my feet before he could open his mouth. “I better go show them how it’s done.” I left him and joined Nina and the girls, who’d given up on handstands and were doing cartwheels instead.
“You look like you’ve just escaped Alcatraz,” Nina said, putting her hands on her hips when she stepped out of a cartwheel.
“I feel like it.” I glanced over to where Alex sat with two empty chairs beside him, then turned to the ocean. “What’s with him?”
Nina raised an eyebrow at me as if to say,Are you that oblivious?
“It’s not that. If it were, he would’ve kissed me.”
“Maybe he’s just confused.”
“What does he have to be confused about?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The strength of his feelings for you? I say we lock you two in a room and see how long it takes before you’re all over each other.”
“Be serious!”
“I am being serious. Maybe Alex likes you, but Ocean isn’t sure. Or maybe it’s the other way around. I hate him, but I kind of love Aloe as your couple name. No.” She snapped her fingers. “Jocean! That’s even better! It sounds like a boy band.” She grinned at me, then ducked into another cartwheel before I could shove her.
“You are the worst best friend!” I called after her, even though we both knew it wasn’t true.
—
The night before my karaoke debut, Nina took Mia and Kitty for a walk down the beach to the pier. I’d stayed behind to catch up on the blog. I’d hardly looked at my website since posting about Coral Castle. After responding to comments and emails, I sat at my desk, a blank document on the screen. Every day it got harder and harder to tap into the positive persona I projected on the blog. I hadn’t written my post for the dinner party yet because I wasn’t sure how to start. I’d talk about my cooking disaster (it would be charming, relatable, funny). I’d omit that it had been Mia and Kitty’s dastardly plan to get me and a certain someone closer together. I’d talk about the laughter, the conversation, everyone’s fancy outfits, but the post would stop at dessert. No warm, buzzy feelings in the kitchen, no dishwashing with a disheveled Alex. No talk of Samson, no meltdown on the beach, no almost kiss and subsequent rejection.
I spun in my office chair, unsure how to start. My phone rang, and as soon as I looked at it and saw the wordMom, I set my feet onto the floor, braking hard mid-spin. Mom never called just to catch up, only to deliver bad news. I held my phone to my ear, answering before I could decide not to.
