Were his? Or had he accepted her decision and moved on?
Two stories above the men, Vivien leaned against the railing of the Summer House’s main deck, vaguely aware of chatter in the house and the start of a new song Tessa had queued up for her perfect playlist.
The first few notes punched, and Vivien stepped away from the railing to narrow her eyes at Tessa, who stood at the kitchen island mixing drinks.
“Really, Tess? Whitney Houston?”
Tessa lifted a glass, squeezed a lime, and rounded the island, offering Vivien the official Summer House drink—a gin and tonic—a teasing smirk on her lips.
“I thought you’d like this choice,” Tessa joked, flipping back some long blond hair and peering past Vivien at the boardwalk. “For the one that got away.”
Vivien took the glass with a nod of thanks. “The one Isentaway, more like.”
“It made sense at the time, Viv.”
Tessa returned to the kitchen before Vivien could respond, leaving her to consider how right her friend was.
Fresh out of a twenty-six-year marriage, new to Destin, and steadily building her interior design business, Vivien simply hadn’t been ready for the complication of a romantic relationship.
Not that Peter McCarthy was complicated. He was what her mother would call “a straight shooter”—literally, as a police detective, and figuratively, as a decent, stand-up guy. A guy who’d professed his love for her the night they’d broken up, then immediately agreed to give her the space and freedom she requested.
So far, that had been easy. Peter had returned to Pensacola when his local case was closed, but he’d already accepted a new position with the Okaloosa County Sheriff’s Office, starting as a senior criminal investigator right here in Destin.
He’d made that decision before she dropped her bomb, leaving her to wonder if he would have done the same thing if he’d known she was going to break up with him that night.
Didn’t matter. He was officially a local. And the truth was, her crush on him still burned as bright as that bonfire would later tonight.
She had no idea how Peter felt. He’d been warm when they saw each other for the first time a few days ago. They’d only beenalone for a moment in the kitchen, and they’d had a perfectlyniceconversation. There’d been no long glances, no casual touches, and certainly no sweet kisses like they’d shared in the spring.
They were old friends, nothing more, nothing less, part of a blend of family and friends who had a long history on this beach.
But looking at him now…she couldn’t remember the meaning ofspaceor why she’d thought she wanted it. Her poor body had the same numb ache that plagued her as a teenager, longing to just be close to him. Was it the beach? Destin? History? Or was Whitney right…and she would always love him?
Peter slowed his step as he and Eli got closer to the house and lifted his gaze, meeting hers. His smile wavered as they locked eyes, but he looked away and reacted to something Eli said.
Oh, Peter. What was I thinking?
“That’s the face of a woman in torment.”
She turned at the sound of her daughter’s voice, hissing in a breath and hoping she hadn’t just said her thoughts out loud. “Torment? What do you mean?”
Lacey snorted a soft laugh and narrowed her big baby blues. “I mean you’re practically hanging over the deck like Rapunzel or Juliet or some other lovestruck character on a balcony.”
“Lovestruck?” Was shethatobvious? “I’m just looking at that beach, which promises a glorious sunset, don’t you think?”
Lacey rolled her eyes. “Come on, Mom. It’s me. I’ve known you my whole life. I’ve been sharing a bed with you for the last five months, which is something no self-respecting twenty-five-year-old should admit. I know what you’re thinking.”
With an easy laugh, Vivien didn’t deny a thing. “You should have claimed Tessa’s old room when she moved into that beach house, Lace. Then you wouldn’t have to share the main suite with me.”
Lacey shrugged. “I knew Aunt Crista was coming this month. Plus, I like rooming with you. C’mon, now. Back to Peter.”
“Peter? I didn’t bring him up.” Vivien took a sip, the cocktail tasting bitter on her lips. “Where’s Roman?”
Lacey looked past her toward the water and sand drenched in the gold of sunset. “If you really were staring at the beach and not your ex in bare feet, you’d see my boyfriend out there doing what he does—throwing a football with Jonah and Peter’s son. Connor is very nice, by the way.”
Vivien turned and looked beyond Peter and Eli as they disappeared into the downstairs of the three-level beach house. Out on the sand, Roman Matteo was definitely showing off his NFL skills with Vivien’s nephew, Jonah, who was holding his own with the second-string wide receiver.
Connor McCarthy, a dental student who’d joined his father for a long weekend in Destin, caught a few impressive passes to show he’d clearly inherited Peter’s athletic prowess.
