Page 44 of The Beach Trap

“Thanks,” I say, stepping down from the chair once I’m confident I have one that will work.

“Might want to add some new chairs to the reno list,” Henry says.

“Maybe something with a pop of color,” I agree. I’m leaning toward a cool, bright white for the room that would look greatagainst shades of blue and green. Just like the view outside the window—the signature white sand and emerald-green water of Destin.

“I was thinking something a little sturdier,” Henry says, heading back to the ladder to get back to whatever he was doing with the lights. “But color would be nice, too.”

“Color is always nice,” I say, taking a seat on the chair, hoping it’s sturdy enough to hold me. I pick the best photo and bring it into an editing app, then add text that saysColor Warsto the middle of the heart before I write the post copy:

All right, pretty people. Let’s talk about home décor. It’s basically fashion, but for a room, right?

I’m in the early stages of a big home reno project, and I’m going to need your help picking the perfect color for the kitchen cabinets.

Every day for the next week, I’m going to post a color battle in my stories and you can vote on which shade will move forward until we have a winner.

This is going to be fun! Thanks for playing along—and remember, every room is a runway when life’s a fashion show.

Tell me your favorite shade of white in the comments and check out my stories for the first battle!

I post the first battle between two cool tones—I learned early on that there’s a way to give my followers a say while still having control of the outcome. The votes and comments start coming in right away, and it warms my heart to know how manypeople out there care about me. I need to remember that the next time I feel sad and lonely, like when I got back to Atlanta last week.

Henry steps down off the ladder and walks to the switch on the wall. “Let there be light,” he says, turning it on.

“Beautiful.” The light cans, or whatever he called them, give the room a warm glow that’s much more forgiving than the old fluorescents. This room is going to be so ’Grammable by the time we’re done with it!

“I think all this hard work deserves a drink,” I say. “Any interest in walking down to the Crab Trap?”

“I can’t,” Henry says abruptly, turning the lights back off as if he’s emphasizing the point.

“Oh,” I say, taken aback at how quickly he shut me down. I hope he doesn’t think I was coming on to him—if I was flirting, he’d know it. Not that I would flirt with Henry Alexander.

Maybe my outburst earlier scared him off. Men aren’t good with handling emotions, and I let them all out when I went on my little Blake rant.

He probably thinks I’m a spoiled brat—talking so much shit about Blake. God, I hope they didn’t become friends over the past week. I should have warned Henry that she is not one to be trusted.

An awkward silence settles between us, until he breaks it, saying, “I have to pick up my daughter.”

“Oh,” I say again, like a moron who can only speak in vowel sounds. “I didn’t realize you had a daughter.”

Henry’s face lights up. “Sunny’s six. She’s a handful—but she’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

My eyes drift to his left hand, confirming his ring finger is empty. I realize I’ve been doing most of the talking, and there’s a lot I don’t know about adult Henry.

“And her mom?” I ask.

Henry’s lips dip into a slight frown, making his dimple disappear. “She’s not in the picture anymore.”

There’s a story there, but I sense it’s one he doesn’t want to talk about, so I don’t push.

Quiet settles between us again, but this time it’s slightly less awkward. Henry glances at his watch like he can’t get out of here fast enough.

“I’ve got to pick her up from camp,” he says. “But if you like burgers, you’re welcome to come over for dinner.”

“I love burgers,” I say, even though what I really mean is that I’d love to find out more about adult Henry, the daughter who makes him light up like the sun she’s named after, and the ex-wife who doesn’t have custody.

•••

A few hourslater, I’m walking up to the address Henry texted me, wearing a floral print sundress from an up-and-coming Belgian designer.

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