Paul looked up too. His eyes held hope and caution. "Casey, I won't let anything happen to him. Promise. Just the shallows. Water's not deep. I'll hold him the whole time."
I looked back at him. Sunburn still marked his face. His nose and cheekbones were peeling, new skin underneath. His expression was serious. None of that "my way or the highway" attitude from before. Just waiting quietly for my answer.
"Don't let him choke on water."
"I won't." His smile broke through, eyes brightening. He bent down and scooped Tommy up. "Come on, let's go play."
Tommy wrapped his arms around Paul's neck, giggling. Paul carried him to the water and set him down in the shallows. The water just covered Tommy's calves. He brought the board over, laid it on the surface, and helped Tommy climb on. Once Tommy was settled, Paul held the nose with one hand, Tommy's back with the other, and pushed slowly into the water. Tommy wobbled. Paul's hands steadied him immediately.
"Don't be scared. I got you." His voice was calm. "Lay flat. Hands on the sides of the board. Yeah, like that. When the wave comes, hold on tight. I'll push you."
Tommy nodded, his little face scrunched with concentration. Paul pushed the board deeper. Water reached his knees, then his thighs. He stopped, waited for a small wave, and gave a gentle push. Tommy slid across the surface, shrieking with joy. "Mommy, did you see!"
I stood on the beach, watching them. Paul glanced back at me, smiled, and turned back to Tommy. He held the board, showed Tommy how to balance, how to lean forward when the wave came. Every time Tommy did something right, Paul praised him. Every time Tommy fell, Paul caught him and lifted him back onto the board. Tommy wasn't scared at all. He knew Paul would catch him.
I watched them, that ache building in my chest. If six years ago hadn't happened, this could've been us. Weekends at the beach. Paul teaching Tommy to surf. Me sitting in the sand watching them. Then home together. Dinner. Cartoons. Tucking Tommy in. All those ordinary things. That should've been our life.
"What are you spacing out about over here?"
Lina appeared out of nowhere, plopped down beside me with two iced coffees. She handed me one. She wore a bikini under a sheer cover-up, sunglasses pushed up on her head.
"When did you get here?"
"It's the weekend. Where else would I be?" She sipped her coffee, followed my gaze. "Oh look, isn't that your man?"
"He's not my man."
"Please." Lina rolled her eyes. "You're looking at him like you want to eat him alive."
"I am not."
"You're not? You haven't taken your eyes off him since I got here." Lina leaned in, grinning. "Ella, how long are you going to keep this up? I can see it. You still love him."
I said nothing for a long time. The waves rolled in, one after another.
"Lina, it doesn't matter if I still love him." My voice came out flat. "What matters is I can't fully trust him again. I still remember what he said six years ago."
Lina set her coffee in the sand, turned to face me. "Ella, look at him now. He's trying to fit into your life. Surfing lessons. Hawaiian language. Volunteering at the community center. A Boston blue blood doing all that—if it's not real, what is? You've seen how he was. You're seeing how he is now. Tell me they're the same."
"I know he's changing. But Lina, how do I know he won't do it again? The Vincent Family comes knocking, and he picks their side again—what then? What happens to Tommy?"
Lina squeezed my shoulder. "Then make him prove it. Ella, don't let old hurt block what's right in front of you. If you don't give him a chance, how will you know if he can come through?"
I looked at her. Said nothing. She smiled, stood up, and brushed sand off her skirt. "Okay, think about it. I'm going over there to tan. Won't interrupt your man-watching anymore."
"He's not—"
"I know, I know. Not your man." She walked off laughing.
I sat on my towel, watching the two figures in the water. Tommy still lay on the board, Paul guiding him in circles. Tommy's laughter rang across the whole beach. Paul lifted him off the board, hoisted him overhead. Tommy kicked his legs, yelling higher, higher.
After a while, Paul carried Tommy back to shore. Tommy clung to his neck, cheek pressed against his shoulder. Paul set him on the towel and dried him off.
Paul walked over and sat down about two feet from me. He still smelled like cold seawater. We sat side by side on the sand, neither speaking. Just the sound of waves hitting the shore.
A strong wind blew through, whipping my curls around. I reached up to fix them. His fingers got there first, so gentle as he tucked the strands behind my ear. His fingertips burned hot against my cool cheek. The touch shot through me like current.
He pulled his hand back quickly, like he was afraid of startling something. His voice dropped low. "Casey, your hair's longer."
