Page 56 of The Beach Trap

My response is abrupt and a little mean, but that picture sucked all the air out of me. I feel like a deflated balloon, limp and wrinkly, hanging from a string the morning after a party.

Noah:No offense to my college roommate and his husband, but you’re more fun

A picture arrives. It’s of Noah at the restaurant, sitting across from two men his age, a white guy with sandy blond hair in a ponytail and an Asian guy wearing a Cubs hat. Noah’s holding the beer, Ponytail is holding the glass of wine, and Cubs Fan has a cocktail.

Noah:William and Jon say hi, btw. I think they’re sick of hearing me talk about you.

My internal balloon inflates, my chest expanding as a smile returns to my face. Noah has been talking about me to his friends? Maybe I’ve been on his mind as much as he’s been onmine, all day long, even in the middle of other activities. Somehow, that’s even better than if he were texting me while he’s in bed.

Smiling wide, I reply.

Tell them hi from me. And if you do have a heart attack, ask them to please resuscitate you. You and I have unfinished business.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

KAT

The biggest difference between this Fourth of July and all the ones in my memory is that there’s no one here to do all the prep work. Instead of spending all day at the beach, I spend the day in the kitchen—which is looking pretty good with the freshly painted Vanilla Milkshake white cabinets. The rest of the house is still a disaster, but this room gives me hope.

Dinner doesn’t need that much prep, but I’m proud of how on-brand the menu is. I’m making potato salad with red, white, and purple potatoes that look kind of blue, caprese salads with tomato, onion, and blue cheese, my grandma’s famous Jell-O salad, and the angel food cake with Cool Whip, strawberries, and blueberries that my dad loved, and Henry’s going to grill burgers.

I take one break when the golf cart parade goes by—it’s cute in a sentimental way, but not as exciting as I remember from when I was a kid. I head back inside before it’s over so everything will be ready once Henry and Sunny arrive.

It feels more like a party as soon as they get here. Sunny looks adorable in a patriotic sundress, red with blue and white stars. And as a bonus, it perfectly complements my blue-and-whiteoutfit with a splash of red. Henry even gives his okay for me to share a few shots of Sunny and me on my Instagram stories.

I’m not purposefully avoiding Blake in the pictures—but her cutoff jeans and gray T-shirt aren’t exactly festive or ’Gram-worthy. At least Henry wore a blue version of his standard plaid short-sleeve shirt for the occasion.

While he grills, Sunny bounces between Blake and me, talking endless circles about anything and everything.

“I love American food,” she says. “The fruit on the cake is red and blue just like the flag! There aren’t any white berries, but the frosting is white.”

“That makes sense,” Blake agrees, and Sunny lights up.

“Know why we had cheeseburgers instead of normal burgers?” Henry asks Sunny, as he sets the blue tray, full of burgers, on the red-and-white tablecloth.

“Did George Washington like them?” Sunny asks.

“Nope,” Henry says. “Because the cheese is American.”

Sunny scrunches her nose like she’s trying to understand the joke.

“American cheese,” Henry says, and Sunny erupts in giggles.

I lean back in my chair and watch Henry and his daughter banter back and forth. That girl brings out a playful side of her dad, and I have to admit, I like it.

“Whose turn is it to do the dishes?” Henry asks when we finish eating, resting his finger on his nose.

Sunny gasps and puts her finger on her nose as well. Blake and I exchange a look, clearly on the outside of this inside joke. Sunny giggles, looking back and forth between Blake and me.

Blake puts her finger on her nose, then looks at me and shrugs. I’m about to do the same when Sunny shouts, “Kat’s the last one! She’s doing dishes!”

“Hey,” I protest. “You can’t start a game if not everyone knows you’re playing.”

“Sorry,” Henry says. “Rules are rules, but I’ll help.”

“We don’t have to clean!” Sunny shouts, holding her hand up to give Blake a high five. “We can stay out here and play and have fun, because everything is fun if it’s not cleaning!”

Blake flashes us a “wish me luck” smile as Sunny grabs her hand and drags her to the other side of the porch, leaving Henry and me alone.

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