Page 51 of The Restaurant on Plum Island
“Oh!” Carly and Ethan said in unison.
“Yeah, we didn’t know you two already had a lunch date,” Reef said, grinning, his head swiveling back to the food. “May I?” He pointed at the table.
“Of course,” Ethan said. “Go ahead.”
Reef and Shay dug into the feast, then plopped onto the blanket beside Carly and Ethan.
“So, Mom.” Reef picked up a sandwich. “Are you and Mr. Blackwell dating?”
“It’s Ethan,” Ethan said, looking at Reef.
“Well…” Carly’s cheeks reddened, and she glanced at Ethan.
“Would it be so bad if we were?” Ethan saved Carly by answering for her.
“No,” Reef and Shay said together.
“I, for one, have been worried about Mom,” Reef admitted and looked at Carly. “You haven’t dated since you left my father, and that’s been alongtime.”
“Yeah, my Dad hasn’t dated a lot either, since…,” Shay glanced toward the sea as if gathering her emotions. “Since my mother.” Shelooked at Ethan, making his heart squeeze. “To answer your question, I’d be happy if you were dating Carly.”
“Same here,” Reef toasted with his second sandwich before eating it.
Ethan and Carly’s intimate picnic had turned into a family affair. They chatted about Reef’s surfboard, Shay learning to surf, and what Reef wanted to study at college. An hour passed, and all too soon, it was time to return to the hotel.
Shay and Reef hoisted their backpacks over their shoulders and said their goodbyes as they walked towards the Beach Hut. Ethan watched them amble away, their heads close together, sharing whispers that sparked laughter between them. They looked like brother and sister going off on an adventure, and his heart swelled. It was so nice to see his daughter come out of her shell.
“Look at them,” Carly murmured beside him, her voice tinged with a mother’s pride as she voiced his thoughts. “They look like brother and sister.”
Ethan turned to find Carly watching him, her hazel-green eyes searching his face with an intensity that made him want to pull her to him and crush her lips with his. The sun was slipping further down the sky, painting the clouds in strokes of pink and orange.
“Can I ask you something about Beth?” Carly’s question surprised him.
Ethan’s chest tightened, but he nodded. He knew that if he and Carly were ever to tighten their bond, it would mean having to answer the difficult questions and bear his soul.
“She was... she must have been very special to you.” Carly’s words were tentative as if she were navigating a maze of thorns.
Ethan let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of those painful years in his reply. “She was. Beth was my first big love.” They started walking back toward the hotel. “Our life together wasn’t always easy. Just like any marriage, it had good and bad moments.” He swallowed. “Until the bad moments outweighed the good ones. It was the hardest decision I had to make, but I had to get Shay out of a toxic environment.”
“I was correct in assuming your movie was based on your life?” Carly’s eyes were brimming with compassion. “It was filled with such depth it felt like the script had been lived.”
“Life and art are reflections of each other, aren’t they?” Ethan looked out to the horizon, where the ocean met the sky in a perfect line. “Beth taught me a lot about love, pain, and letting go. She’s woven into the fabric of my work, whether I intend it or not.”
Carly reached out, her hand brushing against his arm, a gesture of solidarity. “It takes courage to put pieces of your heart into your work for the world to see.” She smiled at him. “Thank you for sharing that.”
“When Beth died…” Ethan fiddled with his tie again. “I was racked with guilt for not getting to her house in time to save.” He closed his eyes, stopping at the entrance to Summer Inn. “There’s something I never told anyone about that night. I let everything think it was an accident, but it wasn’t.” His jaw clenched as images of the flame, smoke, and heat filled his head. “She committed suicide and had sent me a message saying goodbye.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had to carry that with you all this time,” Carly said.
Ethan turned his face to show her his scar. “The scar is my constant reminder of that awful day.”
Carly’s eyes traced the path of the scar before she reached out, her fingertips brushing the raised skin with a tenderness that spoke volumes.
“None of us are immune to tragedy,” Carly murmured before gently kissing the tender wound.
CHAPTER 13
Carly Donovan, once known as Stella Hart, glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror of Harriet’s suite. The copper curls framing her face had been tamed into an elegant updo, and her makeup highlighted the natural hazel-green hue of her gold-flecked eyes—eyes that currently betrayed a hint of trepidation. She smoothed the fabric of her dress, noting how her hands shook slightly, and she breathed to calm her nerves.
