Rocky struts out next, doing some kind of finger-gun shimmy that has half the crowd howling. He makes a beeline for Tay, gives her a smoldering look, and does a full body roll that lands with a dramatic pelvic thrust right in front of her deck chair.
The sunbathers go wild.
“Oh my God,” Tay mutters, rolling her eyes. “I am too sober for this.”
“Now, make some noise for our Silver Fox: Mr. Whittaker!” Elise calls out.
Ed Whittaker—an older guest from Luna’s bus tour—emerges, towel tied like a cape, knees wobbling with the effort of just existing. He starts shaking his non-existent booty like he’s headlining spring break in Cancun. It’s both horrifying and oddly endearing.
The crowd loses it.
And then?—
Beckett.
My husband walks out like he owns the damn deck. Slow. Smooth. Confident.
Beckett doesn’t ham it up like the others. Doesn’t do a goofy dance or flex or fake strip. He just moves.
Our eyes lock.
And I swear, the air shifts.
Because I don’t just see the man in front of me. I see every version of him I’ve ever loved.
The guy who kissed me on my parents’ porch even though he knew my dad was right inside.
The one who whispered “I’ve got you” in the delivery room, even while I was squeezing the life out of his fingers, who stayed calm right up until the moment when they handed the first of the twins to him—at which point he grinned with a warmth and almost giddiness that he rarely showed anywhere else.
The man who held my hand under restaurant tables, even when we were fighting.
From somewhere behind me, Elise hoots into the mic. “Oh-ho! We’ve got a sleeper!!”
But I barely register it.
How many times did I take this for granted?
That easy heat in his eyes. That silentyou’re minehe never had to say out loud.
Hip roll. Knee bend.
A slow spin that turns into a side-step that—damn it—should not look that good on a man in swim trunks.
The crowd’s loving it. Luna’s clapping. Tay’s trying to throw dollar bills. And then?—
Babs leans in.
Elbows me gently in the ribs and whispers, “If your next one looks anything like the twins and their father, you’re going to have your hands full.”
My heart stutters. God, I’d almost forgotten about that—the pregnancy rumor.
I smile tight.
“Oh, well… you know,” I mumble, trying to sound breezy.
I can’t correct her.
Not without unraveling everything.
