“Beautiful day today,” Luca said beside him. “I think Daisy had the right idea.”
“Yeah.” Emerson didn’t want to say any more, to curse it for Ben and Alexei. Lord knew weather on the Oregon Coast could change on a dime; grey clouds could overtake the blue sky any second now. But the forecast for the rest of the weekend, like today, was tentatively good.
It was possible—just possible—that the wedding could be a perfect day.
While the sun shone overhead, the water of the ocean was still a churning blue-gray, as the Pacific often looked here, especially in the mornings. Less sparkling and blue-green than he’d seen it look in other places in photographs. Even with the sun, the wind from the water was enough to have both Emerson and Luca scrunching up their shoulders, huddling inside their sweatshirts as they walked side by side.
But the waves always looked just right to Emerson, abutted by cliffs, hulking rocks breaking up the watery horizon. He knew there were other beaches, warmer and more tropical, around the world. But none of those were his. In the quiet of the morning, barely anyone else around, this beach seemed to only belong to him and Daisy and Luca.
They meandered closer to the shoreline, rolled up their pants. Took off their shoes. Left them in a pile with Daisy’s sandals. “Daisy!” Emerson called before she could run too far into the waves. “You know you have to hold Dad’s hand.”
The waves, the undercurrent in their wake were so strong. She was still so small.
But she ran back without complaint, held on fast.
And then she grabbed Luca’s hand on her other side.
Together, the three walked into the ocean.
Luca and Emerson, in their wizened adulthood, merely sucked in a sharp breath at the bitter shock of the cold water hitting their toes. Daisy let out what they all held inside: anexuberantly high-pitched squeal, followed by a breathless giggle. She tugged on both of their hands.
“Swing!”
With the briefest glance at each other, Luca and Emerson complied, swinging their arms back and then forward, Daisy flying above the waves between them before her feet hit the ground, and they completed the motion again. Half walking, half dancing through the shallows.
Emerson hadn’t done this with anyone since Jayden.
But Daisy didn’t seem to have the smallest compunction about doing it with Luca, too.
“Okay, Daze,” Emerson eventually said. “Daddy’s feet are frozen.”
“Hokay!” Daisy dropped their hands and ran away from the shoreline, tiny feet kicking up sand as she went, until she dropped abruptly to her knees.
Emerson picked up his pace, chasing after her, concern etched in his heart until?—
“Build!” She turned with a smile, brandishing a stick, just as he reached her. She dug it into the wet sand with gusto, churning up patterns only she could understand.
“Shoot,” Emerson said after a moment. “We forgot the pail in the truck.”
“I could get it.”
Emerson looked at Luca, who had just caught up with them.
“Sure you don’t mind?”
Luca shook his head, watching Daisy with a smile. Emerson tossed him his keys. He tried to find it not overly sexy when Luca caught them easily in his fist.
“There should be a beat-up beach pail and shovel somewhere in the back.”
“Got it.”
Emerson watched him go. Trying not to think about howdomestic this all felt. How easy. Trying not to dwell on how the light shone on Luca’s dark hair, how it gilded his skin, how fluidly his body moved, hands in pockets, across the sand.
And then Emerson blinked back to the scene directly in front of him, and sank to his knees to build castles with his daughter.
Without the pail, though, they weren’t quite castles. They were more like?—
“These are like the Indian burial mounds of the Indigenous peoples of North America,” he said.
