Mag-log inMy eyes open.I turn toward him.He's still sitting comfortably, one arm resting on the armrest and his water bottle in his other hand. His expression hasn't changed much, but there's something about the way he's watching me that immediately tells me this isn't just another attempt to tease me.“I'm not avoiding you.”“Really?”“Really.”He nods slowly. “Okay.”I wait.Zach takes another drink of water.I frown. “What?”“Nothing.”“Why did you say okay like that?”“Like what?”“Like you don't believe me.”He smiles a little. “Because I don't.”I roll my eyes and turn back toward the ocean. “I'm enjoying my vacation, Zach. You should try doing the same instead of interrogating someone who just spent two hours working as a construction laborer.”“I'm enjoying my vacation.”“Good.”“Especially this morning.” His smile widens slightly. “Can't say breakfast was boring.”I narrow my eyes. “What's that supposed to mean?”“Just noticed a few things.”“I didn't realize watching people was your
I finally discover that there's something even more exhausting than sitting through meetings with investors who think they understand technology just because they once bought Apple stock.Being a construction contractor for a four-year-old girl.“Mommy, that's not straight.”I stare at the sand tower I've just built, then turn to Issa, who's sitting on a white beach towel in a pink swimsuit with a little skirt around the waist and a wide-brimmed hat that she insists makes her look more elegant.“What's not straight?”“The tower.”I look back at my work. The tower might be leaning a little, but considering I made it with a twenty-dollar plastic bucket, I think it's good enough to put in an architectural portfolio.“Sweetheart, it's a sandcastle. Not a five-star hotel.”Issa wrinkles her nose. “But it's my castle.”“Then you're welcome to fix it if you don't like it.”She immediately looks down at her clean hands, then at the sand surrounding us with a displeased expression. “Mommy, I'm
About twenty minutes later, the small dining table by the kitchen windows is covered with breakfast.I deliberately chose this table instead of the formal dining room because there's absolutely no reason to make Sunday breakfast feel like a board meeting.The chef has prepared scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, fresh fruit, pancakes, and several other dishes I don't even get a chance to notice because Max immediately announces that his dinosaur has an anatomical problem.“His head is too small!”I turn to look.There's a dinosaur-shaped pancake on Max's plate. Personally, I think it looks pretty good, especially considering the chef had to make it using regular pancake batter and a little green food coloring.Max, however, looks unimpressed. “Look, Mommy. T-Rex has a bigger head.”“Max, it's a pancake.”“But look!”“If you don't want it, I can eat its head.”He immediately pulls his plate away. “NO!”“Then eat.”Beside him, Issa is admiring her crown-shaped pancake with sparkling eyes. The
I finally have about twenty minutes to shower, brush my teeth, and consider whether it's too early to start drinking.I decide coffee is still the more reasonable option.I slip into a simple cream-colored cotton dress, throw on a light cardigan because the morning air at Alder Cove is a little chilly, then brush my hair and leave it down. A little moisturizer, lip balm, and sunscreen, and I'm ready enough to face the world.Or at least the two tiny humans who've been threatening to take their property dispute to family court since seven this morning.“BUT WHAT IF THE EGG IS REALLY BIG?”Dear God. What egg now?“I don't want to eat an egg with a baby dinosaur inside!” Issa's voice follows, sounding deeply offended.I make my way through the living room toward the kitchen, following the smell of butter and toast that's starting to fill the house. Sunlight streams through the tall windows overlooking the ocean, making the white marble kitchen island gleam. Outside, the sky is still a li
“THAT'S NOT YOUR LAND!”“I WAS HERE FIRST!”“MAXIME! YOU CAN'T PUT DINOSAURS NEXT TO MY CASTLE!”“THEY DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR CASTLE!”I open my eyes.I don't get up. I just lie under the covers, staring at the dim ceiling, trying to remember if I did something terrible enough in a past life to deserve this kind of punishment.The clock on my nightstand reads 7:04.Seven oh four.On a Sunday.In a private beach house that's supposed to be where rich people go to escape every possible form of human disturbance.And my two children are outside my bedroom door arguing over property rights.“Daddy said we can have TWO castles!” Max insists.“I KNOW!”“Then THIS is mine!”“NO! That's the pretty side!”I pull the covers over my head, maybe if I stay quiet enough, they'll assume I'm dead.“Mommy!”No such luck.“Mommy, Max is being illegal!”“I'm not!”“YOU ARE!”Something slams against the door, sounding suspiciously like an object thrown by someone whose hand-eye coordination is still a wor
After a dinner that's way louder than it has any right to be in a house this big, Bianna finally takes Max and Issa to their rooms.They've already had their baths, changed into their pajamas, and burned through almost all their energy playing on the beach.At least, that's what I think.Turns out Max still has enough energy left to explain that the sandcastle he built with Zach has an underground garage.Issa immediately objects because, according to her, the castle belongs to her and Max was only supposed to do the digging.“I built the wall!”“It's MY castle!”“Daddy helped me!”“Daddy helped everybody!”I'm pouring myself a glass of water when the argument starts up again. “Kids,” I say.They both go quiet.I look from one to the other. “Tomorrow, you can build two castles.”Max nods.Issa considers that for a moment. “What if I want a bigger one?”“Then you can dig more.”She looks offended. “I'm a princess, Mommy.”“Princesses have hands, too.”Bianna laughs as she brings over t
And then... the blue eyes I’d once punched found mine across the crowd.Oh, good.Just fantastic.If the universe had a sense of humor, it was definitely drunk.I didn’t know who moved first. Maybe not him. Maybe not me. Maybe the room just suddenly felt too tight, too bright, too full of people wh
The second-floor workspace looks like a bored Pinterest board: neat white desk, bookshelves, two monitors. I’m in a fitted black blazer on top… alpaca-print pajama pants on the bottom.Out in the hallway, just beyond the half-closed door, the sound of running shakes the corridor.“SUPER MAX WILL SA
Five years later.Oregon rain tapped softly against the kitchen’s glass wall. Steady, cold, and mildly annoying.The pan on the stove hissed quietly, the smell of almost-done corn arepas mixing with black coffee and the chorizo I was frying in the skillet next to it. A slow Latin playlist floated f
I sat on a slick wooden bench on a Boston sidewalk, my watch telling me it was well past midnight, and the only things keeping me company were a streetlamp and the constant buzz of phone notifications going off like a curse.My boyfriend was being kissed by an influencer on a five-inch screen.I st







