Page 71 of The Sandover Beach Billionaire

Jenna wandered back to the house, wondering if anyone would notice her leaving early. She just didn’t feel like good company.

“What’s wrong?” Mercer appeared beside her, sipping on a soda.

Jenna groaned internally. She had been trying to avoid Mercer—the one person who would recognize something was wrong and press her on it. “Nothing.”

Mercer didn’t speak, but simply waited. She was the kind of friend who knew when to push, but also when to wait. Jenna felt stupid being so worked up over a few changes in Jackson this week. It was probably not a big deal. She should just ask him. Tomorrow. Definitely not today.

“Okay, something’s wrong. Maybe. But it will be fine. I think. I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“You know I’m here,” Mercer said.

Jenna smiled. “I do. Thanks. Have you seen Megan?”

Mercer shook her head. “Not for a while. I thought I saw her heading toward the house a bit ago.”

“I think I’ll go find her. Thanks, Mercer.”

Jenna only felt a little guilty for using Megan as an excuse for going in the house and escaping the party. She was learning that Megan needed to be drawn out and engaged. People tended to be scared off by her sarcasm and the way she didn’t seem to fear adults. Even Beau and Jimmy, two of the friendliest guys Jenna had ever met, gave her a wide berth.

Jenna had made it her personal mission not to be scared off. Of course, now, if Jackson didn’t want to be with her, Jenna would just be one more person letting Megan down.

Megan’s bedroom door was open and the room empty. Groaning, Jenna started up the three flights. If she and Jackson did get married, she would have the most amazing calves from all the stair-climbing. She still hadn’t set foot inside the elevator since the day she and Jackson got stuck. The first time he had kissed her. Her chest ached.

She pushed aside the negative thoughts, trying to tell herself that she was just overreacting. Just a few weeks ago, she and Jackson had talked about the future, about living in this house together. It would make more sense as far as space, especially with Megan moving there in June. Jenna’s beach cottage, as much as she loved it, would be too cramped. Despite its size, this house was starting to feel more comfortable to her. Not as much as the beach cottage, which was where she and Jackson spent most of their time.

Herhouse, as she thought of it. Jackson liked to remind her that it was his house, a point she refused to concede on. Even though he was right. “You may have lived here longer than me and technically own the house,” she liked to say. “But you decorated it for me. I’m paying the bills right now. My house. Mine.”

“Don’t make me evict you to prove my point,” he would tease.

But she knew Jackson loved the fact that she had settled in so well in the place that he grew up. She was constantly finding little surprises he’d left for her: blue soaps shaped like seashells in the guest bathroom drawer; a plate that read “You Are Special Today” in the cabinet, mixed in with the others; a hoodie hanging in her closet that smelled like him.

And the ring in the box still sat on the mantel. These days, it felt like a kind of telltale heart—its very presence haunting her, teasing her, reminding her of what she wanted but couldn’t have. She couldn’t shake the tendrils of doubt, wrapping around her heart. What if his feelings had changed?

Her stomach dropped.

When she reached the top level, Jenna stopped to breathe. It was quiet, Megan nowhere to be seen. Jackson must have still been changing, but the bedroom door was closed. Jenna hesitated, wondering if she should knock and just ask him what was going on. But she didn’t have the guts. If he had changed his mind about what he wanted, she would wait for him to tell her. She tried to push the thought from her mind as she walked toward the front balcony. Movement in the tower room above caught her eye.

“Hey.” Megan gave her a small wave from the love seat.

“Hey, you.” Jenna climbed up and collapsed on the love seat. “Ugh. More stairs.” Megan huffed and backed up a little. Jenna smiled. Another thing she’d noticed: Megan moaned and groaned about having her personal space invaded, but it was more of an act. “What are you working on up here?”

Megan had finally started sharing snippets of her videos with Jenna. They were surprisingly good. A little juvenile, sure, but then, she was twelve. Jenna’s favorite had been of Megan’s classmate, who was your classic mean girl. She had followed the girl for what must have been days, catching her in various insults and bad behavior. The background music was classic horror-movie fare. It was probably a massive violation of the girl’s privacy, but Megan wasn’t making the video public. “That would just be doing the same to her she does to everyone else,” Megan had told her. “I made this for me.”

Jenna was impressed by that and by Megan’s ability to film and edit and put together a video. She wished that she had a passion like that. Then or now, she’d never had something she’d been that interested in.

When Megan didn’t answer, Jenna nudged her. “New project?”

“Oh, you know. Nothing you’d want to see.” Megan tilted the phone away.

“That only makes me want to see it more, you know.”

Megan smiled. “You’re so easy.”

Jenna poked her in the side. “Are you going to show me? Or should we argue back and forth some more?”

“Fine.” Megan’s tone sounded annoyed, but Jenna caught the small smile on her lips.

Megan leaned closer and pressed play. “Claim Your Ghost,” the song Jenna and Jackson had listened to that night on the back porch, began while the screen was still dark. The moment the video started, Jenna’s mouth fell open. It featured clips of Jenna and Jackson from the past six weeks, starting with the day in the elevator. She watched as Beau half-dragged her up the stairs. It was embarrassing to see herself in that sweaty state, passed out on the couch. But then it zoomed in on Jackson’s hand stroking hers. The camera moved up to his face, capturing a look of concern and love that almost made Jenna gasp.

---