Page 24 of Secrets at Seaside
“Oh, honey,” Leanna said. “You’re just worrying because this has been so many years in the making. When are you seeing him again?”
Amy shrugged, as if maybe Leanna were right, but she knew the truth. Their past was like an ocean between them, rising and falling with their thoughts and heated glances, waiting to rise up and come crashing down again.
“We didn’t really talk about seeing each other. He just apologized and said some of the nicest things a guy could ever say. Then…we kissed.” Tony’s words floated through her mind for the millionth time that morning.You’re everything to me, Amy. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think of before I fall asleep.
“Care to elaborate onnicest things?” Bella asked.
“No. It’s too easy to latch on to them and hope he meant them. There was something in his eyes when he said them. It wasn’t doubt, but hesitation, maybe?” Maybe even mistrust. How could he ever trust her again after she’d turned him away so harshly when all he’d wanted to do was heal their pain?
“Well, if he thinks you deserve a better guy than him, that’s total baloney,” Leanna said. “Maybe he got cold feet. I don’t know for sure, but he probably did feel a little hesitant to reveal how he felt.”
“Well…he is a bit of a player,” Bella added with a soft tone and a compassionate gaze.
Amy kicked her under the table. “Thanks. As if I wasn’t doubting the moment enough already.” She crossed her arms on the table and rested her forehead on them, trying to rein in her hopes.
“I don’t mean it like that. I just mean that he doesn’t really have a track record of long-term relationships,” Bella explained. “He’s probably scared to death of actually committing.”
“None of us had a particularly great track record of long-term relationships, Bella.” Leanna layered a croissant with jam and slid it over to Amy. “Amy, try my new flavor, Sweet Heat. Food always helps.”
Amy lifted her eyes to Leanna. “Sweet Heat?”
“Just taste it. I promise it’ll make you feel better. My friend Joanie from the flea market suggested I try to create something sweet and spicy.” She pushed the plate closer to Amy. “Come on.”
Amy sat up, pulled off a corner of the croissant, and popped it into her mouth. Her mouth exploded with the savory sensation of jalapeños and something sweet and tart. “Oh my! This is crazy good, and the name is perfect. It tastes kind of sexy.” She picked up the jar of Luscious Leanna’s Sweet Treats jam and looked over the green and red label. “Sweet Heat. I love it.” She pushed the plate to the center of the table. “You guys have to taste this.”
While theyoohed andaahed over Leanna’s new flavor, Amy mulled over the sweet heat she’d experienced last night. While she was over the moon about finally kissing the man she loved with all her heart, she had to wonder—if he didn’t trust himself to be the man she deserved, should she?
TONY STOOD AT the edge of the surf with a handful of other surfers who had also come out early to catch the waves. As with any sport, there was an unspoken kinship among surfers. One glance spoke volumes about sucky waves, riptides, the agony of defeat, or the elation of a perfect ride. Tony tried to keep a low profile when he surfed at the Cape, but in the surfing world he was a celebrity, and there wasn’t an easy way to hide his identity when he had a board under his arm.
Even in his wet suit he knew he was bulkier than most of the surfers on the Cape. Most were surfing for fun, not competition. Tony got up early for his five-mile runs, spent hour upon hour surfing, and trained in just about every fashion his body could handle. His fitness regimen didn’t stop there. He fueled his body with as much planning as he used for his workouts, and his mental abilities were just as honed, studying the physicality of all sports—not just surfing—and staying abreast of medical treatments for injuries and current events. Tony believed in being well rounded. There was a reason he was a leader in everything he did—and he probably had his father to thank for that. Proving himself to the man he’d spent years looking up to, and their last summer together, loathing in equal measure, had been just the impetus he’d needed to push himself to the edge.
That was also the reason he would become the best man he could for Amy. No matter what it took. If he was capable of succeeding in other aspects of his life, he was capable of using that same determination for her. Although, as he stood on the shore beside the other surfers, gauging the water and thinking of Amy, he knew he was overlooking the most important part of the equation. There was one thing he had never been able to overcome, and last night’s kiss brought it all home once again. He hadn’t ever overcome the devastation that she’d cast him aside so easily. She’d moved on without ever looking back, and he’d nearly drowned in her wake. He wondered if he’d be able, or willing, to push past that and open his heart to her completely, the way he had back then.
“Mom! That’s him. I told you he was here!” A little boy ran up to Tony, kicking sand all over his feet, and grinned up at him. He was all knees and elbows, topped off with a spiky mop of dark hair.
“Jonah, slow down. Don’t bother him.” His mother trailed behind him wearing a black one-piece bathing suit and an embarrassed smile.
“It’s all right,” Tony said casually as the kid tugged on his wet suit. “What’s up, buddy?”
“You’re Tony Black.”
Tony laughed. “Yeah, I am. What’s your name?”
“Jonah. Jonah Mickelow. I’m gonna be a surfer when I get older. Mom says I have to be eight, so I have two more years before I can learn, but I’m gonna do it. And I’m gonna break your records and be better than you.” His dark eyes were wide, his voice high and excited.
“Another two years, huh? Then I’d better do my best over the next two years.”
“Yeah, ’cause I’m gonna be good.” The little boy turned toward his mother. “This is my mom. She and her friends said you’re hot. I wanna be hot when I’m old like you.”
His mother turned a shade of crimson and mumbled, “Oh geez, Jonah.”
Tony laughed. Out of habit, his eyes rose to the dune, where Amy often sat and watched him surf. His heart nearly stopped. She was there, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms crossed over them, and her chin resting smack-dab in the center.
She’d watched him a million times, almost always by herself, and she never came down to the beach. She’d stay for a while, and he’d get engrossed in surfing and look for her a while later, and she’d be gone. He didn’t want her gone this time.
The little boy tugged on his suit again. “Can you autograph something for me?”
“Absolutely.” Tony glanced at Amy again, excited that she was there; then he looked at the boy’s mother.
