Page 26 of Every Heartbeat After

“No.”

Alex’s nose scrunches. “No?”

My gaze slices to him briefly. “No, not you, I meant—” Back to Kit, who’s smirking. “You.” I point a finger at him and ignore the innocent way he splays a hand over his heart to verify my target. “Not here too. The bar is mine.”

He wets his lips, and I’m ashamed to say it makes my hands sweat.

“I hadn’t realized we were divvying up custody.”

Sebastian decides this is the perfect time to collect the rag I’d snatched along with a bucket of Q-San. He slips out of the bar, heading for the array of tables that line the balcony to start wiping their shiny surfaces one by one. Alex points at Kit and me with his respective fingers, then switches, crossing his arms over his chest. “You two know each other?”

“Yes,” Kit says, sounding amused. I pinch my lips closed. Much as I’d like to contradict him, Alex knows me too well to buy that lie.

Alex scratches at his goatee with his thumb and forefinger. “Hm. All right. Interesting.”

“We aren’t divvying up custody because the whole resort is mine. You can find somewhere else to stay.” I gesture broadly. “It’s a big fucking beach.” I’m ashamed to say my voice cracks on the curse, stealing any heat from it.

“Now, Tess,” Alex says. He raises his hands palm out like I’m a horse in need of steadying. “We could use the revenue?—”

“How many times do I have to remind you that you invited me here?” Kit’s jaw is taut, his thin lips flatlined. Gone is the easy confidence from earlier, and damn, am I ashamed to admit that I miss it.

Though perhaps I like this version of him better. The intensity in his gaze. Tightly coiled muscles visible beneath a linen shirt. It feels more real, somehow.

I don’t acknowledge his question. Can’t, because it pulls the rug right out from beneath my already flimsy argument. Desperation crackles in my veins. I turn to Alex, whose gaze is wild with confusion. “Surely you can do without one room’s worth of revenue,Tio.”Uncle.He and Mauricio will do anything for me when I start reminding them we are family, if only the kind you find rather than being born into.

Kit huffs, “Excuse me?—”

Alex clicks his tongue. “Can’t,Mija.We’re renovating the pool deck at the end of the summer and need every penny we can find.”

A stone plummets from my chest to my stomach. “What do you mean, renovating the pool deck?”

His gaze softens at the corners. “All the concrete’s finally getting torn up. We’re replacing it with these really nice pavers Jenna found from a wholesaler out of Defuniak Springs.”

“Can we please discuss—” Kit starts.

“Not now,” I bite out, sounding more like a scared, feral dog than the strong woman I’d like to be right now. I just don’t have the energy to devote to this petty argument when I’m struggling as it is to process Alex’s words. “But the handprints?”

“I know, Tess. I’m sorry. But it’s time. The concrete is cracked and unstable. It needs the upgrade badly. Your parents would understand.”

They would, maybe, but do I?

“What handprints?”

This time both Alex and I turn to Kit. “None of your business,” I say, exasperated.

A woman I hadn’t noticed sitting at a nearby table, next to the one Sebastian has washed at least five times by now, turns in her chair. It screams against the slate flooring as her weight shifts. She scans all our faces but narrows her eyes at me specifically. “Do you mind? Some of us are trying to have a peaceful afternoon, and you two bickering certainly isn’t helping.”

“Yeah, get a room,” is the extremely valuable addition the man opposite her offers.

Heat floods my cheeks. I turn back to Alex. “I’m sorry, I?—”

“I’ll move closer.” Kit pushes back from the counter, grabs his drink, and is closing in on me before I have a chance to object. He slips into the seat beside the one I abandoned for my Alex hug, and drags a sip from his daiquiri. “Where were we? Oh! The handprints.”

Alex eyes me carefully. I feel his gaze burning my temple. I know he’s looking for a hint at how much information to withhold, but I’m too busy regaining my footing to offer much.

“Er, Tess was little when we redid the pool deck last. She and her parents stamped their handprints in the concrete the day it was poured.”

I remember it clearly. Dreary gray clouds blotted out the sun. They feared it would rain, so the construction workers—friends of Jenna’s—almost didn’t pour it. In the end, after a lot of radar watching and tense conversation between grown-ups, they forged ahead. I was upset that it meant no pool time for an entire week, but Jenna and Alex sweetened the deal with their offer to permanently memorialize ourselves in the pool deck we’d visit every summer.

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