Page 44 of The Beach Shack Summer
“Noted,” Luke said solemnly.
“And if you hurt him,” Tyler added to Meg, “I’ll... be very disappointed.”
“Your threatening needs work,” Meg observed.
“I said I was tired.”
Stella reappeared, stopping dramatically in the doorway. “Did I miss the big revelation? Is someone pregnant? Is there a secret twin?”
“No soap opera developments,” Meg assured her. “Just pasta.”
“Boring.” But Stella returned to her perch, watching Meg work. “Maybe we should all watch Jane the Virgin together and get some ideas.”
Meg didn’t even want to ask what that was and turned back to the stove.
As Meg assembled the dish—pasta, pesto, a shower of parmesan—she moved with practiced ease.
"Looks fancy," Stella observed.
"Just a few tricks," Meg said, adding a final drizzle of olive oil. "Nothing complicated."
"Fiona would just dump it from the pot," Stella observed.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Meg said carefully. “This is just... my way.”
They ate at Tyler’s small dining table, conversation flowing more easily than Meg had expected. Luke told stories about the marina, Tyler shared Beach Shack gossip, and Stella offered occasional commentary that was surprisingly funny
After dinner, Luke insisted on helping with dishes.Stella disappeared briefly, then returned with her phone.
“Movie?” she suggested, so casually it had to be practiced. “Unless you guys have, like, adult stuff to do.”
“Adult stuff?” Tyler asked.
“I don’t know. Taxes? Discussing mortgage rates?”
“Ah yes, our favorite evening activity,” Meg said dryly. “Mortgage rates.”
They ended up sprawled in the living room, Stella claiming the armchair while the adults shared the couch. She scrolled through Netflix with the authority of someone who’d watched everything.
“No rom-coms,” Tyler said.
“Obviously. Horror?”
“Not unless you want nightmares,” Meg warned.
“I don’t get nightmares.” Stella paused on a action movie. “This?”
It was terrible in the best way—explosions, questionable physics, dialogue that made Tyler groan. But Stella provided running commentary that had them all laughing.
“That’s not how helicopters work,” she said during a particularly ridiculous chase scene. “That’s not how any of this works.”
“Since when are you a helicopter expert?” Tyler asked.
“Since I have basic knowledge of physics. Which apparently these writers don’t.”
Halfway through, Meg noticed Stella had curled upin the chair, looking younger without her defensive posture. Tyler was fighting sleep on the other end of the couch, and Luke’s arm had found its way around Meg’s shoulders.
Almost like a family, she thought, then pushed the thought away. Too soon. Too fragile.
