“So you’re almost done then?” I ask, stretching out on my bed. The pillow smells like boy and ocean.
“I start edits next week. I should have it sent in to the publisher by the end of August.”
“That’s great, Mom. I’m really proud of you.”
She smiles at me. “I’m proud of you, too. We both made a lot of progress this summer.”
We did make a lot of progress, like the fact my mom is currently packing up her suitcase. She’s moving into Richard’s house and giving me a little more space of my own. She hasn’t asked much about the boys, just knows that we’re all close. She loves them all, too. I doubt she could make a choice either.
“You coming over tonight?” she asks, zipping up the suitcase.
“Yeah, after the guys get off work.”
She smiles again. It’s like it just won’t leave her face. I’ve never been happier for her.
“I wasn’t sure,” she says suddenly, “about you coming down here with me. I was afraid of you finding out the truth or being resentful that I kept you away from the family. I never realized how much you needed to be down here and discover your own place at Ocean Beach.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me. I know it was hard.”
She brushes a piece of my hair out of my eyes. “I named you after this place, hoping you’d always carry a piece of it with you.”
I give my mother a hug. She’s a survivor. A winner, and I’m damn lucky to have her in my life.
* * *
“Whose bright idea was game night, anyway?” I ask.
“One guess.”
“Anita?”
“And Sugar. It’s tradition. Once a month.” Pete fastens the button on his jeans while I straighten my skirt. “This is the first time we’ve had it at Richard’s, though.”
“Ah, I’m assuming my mom had something to do with that.”
He eyes my fumbling hands and notes, “You should wear dresses to every game night.”
I smooth my hair back into a neat ponytail. Well, as neat as I can get it. “You’d like that.”
“Yep.”
Laughter floats from the patio below. Bobby’s voice rises above the others. It sounds like he’s challenging some rule or the other. “Does this happen every time?” I ask, meaning the argument downstairs. Not the sex we just had in the bathroom of Justin and Whit’s cottage. I’m pretty sure I have marks on my upper thighs from the counter.
“Bobby thinks everyone cheats. Really, he just sucks at strategy.”
“I’m surprised you passed up on playing. You’re awfully competitive.” Pete and I excused ourselves from the latest round to ‘look for something’ in his apartment. Apparently, he found it. Up my skirt.
“I’m not spending my limited number of minutes with you playing games.” He sits on the top step of the stairs and pulls me down onto his lap. “The clock is ticking on school starting. I’m not missing any opportunities.”
He’s right. It’s going to suck. “I’ll come down for the Vandy-Clemson game.”
He nods. “And we’ll come up for your mom’s book release.” Her publisher put the rush on her book. She’s expecting a Christmas release, because everyone loves a little serial killer with their eggnog. “And then you’ll have spring break,” he continues. “And the military ball.”
“Yeah, not sure how it’s going to work with me having two dates.”
We both laugh and I brush his hair out of his eyes. “And then it’s summer again.”
“From there, we’ll decide.” That was the deal. We get thr