Page 91 of Chasing Sunsets

I click off the line, and my father’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. His are full of concern. I swallow back the tears pricking at the back of mine and glance away.

I should have known this day was coming. I couldn’t just disappear forever and never see them again. I didn’t even want that. I just wanted more time. Time to figure out what my next move would be. Time to figure out how to make them understand. But I guess my time ran out.

I guide my father to The Sapphire Tide—an oceanfront restaurant that offers panoramic views of The Point. A hostessgreets us and leads us to a table in the center of the elegant dining room. However, my father requests a more private option. The hostess then directs us to a cozy table nestled in a corner, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows. From here, we can see the expansive deck that extends into the water, complete with plexiglass walls that provide an unobstructed view of the ocean for patrons at the bar.

Dad pulls a seat out for Mom, and Quenton does the same for me.

“Thank you,” I say as I sit down opposite her.

A server fills our glasses with water and begins to list the night’s specials. Mom requests a bottle of cabernet for the table, and we place our food orders. Once she returns with the wine and Mom has a glass, our conversation begins.

“Tabitha,” my father says, his voice firm, “enough of this nonsense. You had your little rebellion, but it’s time to be reasonable. We’ve arranged everything—your spot at Northwestern is still waiting, and Quenton—”

I shake my head. “You’re not listening to me. You never listen to me.”

The silence stretches between us.

“Fine. You have a good reason to throw your future away? Explain it to us. We’re all ears,” he says.

“I don’t want to go back,” I say.

“Back to school?” he asks.

“Back to any of it. School, Boston, my life.”

My mother stares at me like I’m a stranger, and then she addresses my father. “Frederick, this is ridiculous. Do something.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” I snap. “I’m finally doing what I want. For the first time in my life, I am happy.”

She scoffs. “Happy? Here? Living like”—she gestures vaguely at me—“a hobo? You belong in Boston. With us. With Quenton,” she says, gesturing to their golden boy.

My heart pounds. “I don’t.”

My father exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is absurd.”

Anson

The oceanside deck of The Sapphire Tide is packed, the warm sea breeze carrying the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. Strings of lights are woven through the wooden beams, casting a soft glow over the crowd. It’s a perfect night—warm, but not too humid, the scent of salt and grilled seafood thick in the air.

Lennon leads the way, spotting a group of guys near the bar. One of them—a broad-shouldered man with a short, graying beard—claps Lennon on the back as soon as we reach them.

“Damn good to see you, brother.”

“You too, man.” Lennon grins. “Congrats on retirement.”

The guy—Byron, I think—is immediately handed a drink, and introductions are made as we settle in. Parker orders us a round, and soon enough, we’re leaning against the bar, trading stories and toasting to new beginnings.

Sebastian elbows me at one point. “So, how’s it feel?”

I glance out at the water, the waves dark under the night sky. “Feels good.”

“And what does Tabby think of the new digs?” he asks.

“She loves the place. She’s into all the history and character.”

He studies me for a second. “You thinking long-term?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

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