Page 19 of The Beach Trap

“That’s fine,” Blake says. “Once we get it in selling condition, we’ll get another appraisal, and you can buy me out for half. Then you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

The hurt behind Blake’s voice catches me by surprise. I feel a pang of guilt but quickly remind myself that I’m dealing with someone who hurt me once and wouldn’t think twice about doing it again.

“Before you so rudely stormed in,” Blake says, giving me a look that I assume is supposed to carry a warning, “Harriet was giving me an estimated value of what the house might be worth after a major renovation. If we get her back, she can give us an official estimate, and you can decide if you want to buy me out now or later.”

My stomach sinks with the realization that I couldn’t afford to buy Blake out now, even with the house in its current state. I wish my dad were here to tell me whether it would be a sign of weakness or strength to let Blake know I’m no longer the rich girl she thinks I am.

“I can’t,” I tell her, before I can stop myself. “I don’t have money.”

Blake tilts her head and looks at me curiously before letting out a laugh. She thinks I’m joking.

“I’m serious,” I tell her. “My dad’s the one who had money, and he...” My voice trails off. It feels like a weird betrayal to tell her his secrets even though she was one of them. And while my sponsorships are enough for me to live on, it’s not like I have any savings. My parents were always my safety net.

My head spins with the strangeness of this situation and I wonder again what my dad was thinking when he left the house to us both.

I look back up at Blake, who’s giving me a suspicious look like she’s worried aboutmestealing fromher, which is hilarious.

“I may not have gone to your fancy private school”—Blake looks me up and down, and I can practically see the dollar signs in her eyes as she judges my outfit—“but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“I didn’t say you were,” I snap back, feeling like a preteen version of myself engaged in a playground battle of the frenemies. But I’m an adult now, and I don’t have to have defend myself. Not to her. “I need some air,” I say, turning and walking toward the back of the house.

As I walk through the kitchen, I can’t help but see it through Blake’s eyes. Without the rose-colored glasses of memory, it looks run-down and abandoned. But the view out the window still takes my breath away.

I unlock the sliding glass door and step outside. The beach instantly calms me, and I exhale a cleansing breath, letting the salty air fill my lungs. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this place with the tall sea grass, white-sand beaches, and emerald-green water.

I lean against the railing and look out at the beach, feeling a surge of loneliness being here without my family or friends. I think of CoCo and realize she’s just the distraction I need. I reach for my phone and pull up our text exchange from earlier.

Hey, just got to town

A few seconds later, my phone buzzes and a photo of CoCo’s smiling face pops up on my screen. With her dark-brown hair and sparkling green eyes, we looked similar enough to be cousins when we were kids. Of course, I’m Jewish and she’s Irish, but that didn’t stop us from pretending.

“Hi,” I say, answering the phone.

“Kitty Kat!” Hearing her voice and my childhood nickname makes my eyes well with tears. The unexpected wave of emotionsurprises me, and I realize how much I could use a friend right now. “How the hell are you?” she asks.

“Oh, you know,” I say, forcing a smile even though she can’t see me. “Any chance you’re free to meet for a drink?”

“I wish,” CoCo says, “but I landed in Boston an hour ago.”

“And you can’t come back?” I ask. For anyone else, it would be a ridiculous proposition, but CoCo has done crazier things.

“I can’t tonight,” she says, “but I might be back soon. Our housekeeper up and quit this morning before I left, and my parents are making me deal with finding a replacement.”

“Oh no,” I say. While we usually had a cleaning service come in and tidy up after every trip, the Rooneys had a full live-in staff at their eight-bedroom house in a gated community down the road.

“I know,” CoCo says through a sigh. “I can’t believe she walked away from such an easy job—we’re barely there, so it’s not like she had to work a lot. At least the groundskeeper’s still there so we have someone at the house.”

“Thank goodness,” I say, allowing a hint of sarcasm in my voice. Although I always used to appreciate the hot men the Rooneys hired to maintain the landscaping.

“Let me know if you know of anyone who’s looking for a cush job that comes with a free place to stay on the beach,” CoCo says. “Oh shit, my mom’s calling. Probably more drama with Junior.”

The thought of CoCo’s older brother makes me smile. Junior Rooney was my first kiss a million years ago, when I was thirteen and he was fifteen. It was the last week of summer, so nothing ever came of it. I’d been hoping we could pick up where things left off the next summer, but he had a girlfriend. Last I heard, he was engaged and working for the family business.

“Good luck,” I tell CoCo before she hangs up.

I look back down at my phone, wishing there was someone else I could call. I may be up to seventy-eight thousand followers online, and I have a handful of acquaintances back in Atlanta, but there’s no one I can really talk to.

The sound of families laughing drifts up from the beach below and my heart constricts. I miss my dad, and I wish I could call and hear his voice, even if just to say he’s running into a meeting and can’t talk.

---