Summer Love at the Beach (Summer Instalove)

called me every name in the book. Becca shrunk into her chair as if she was trying to

disappear. I hated that her eyes were already full of tears.

“Please, baby,” I said, “Give me a minute and I’ll get rid of her.”

I jumped up just as Tiffany was trying to barge into the shop, but I blocked her, grabbing her arm and carefully dragging her across the street to the park while hitting a number in my

phone. “Marla? Come get Tiffany, now. We’re in the park in front of the ice cream shop.”

Marla was apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mitch, I just turned away for a second.”

“Get here now,” I snapped, hanging up.

Dumping Tiffany on a bench, I looked down at her pretentious designer clothes, her

immaculate haircut, her polished nails. But her wild, spiteful glare destroyed any shred of

beauty she used to have.

“I don’t know how you think you can get away with this,” she snapped. “You owe me

alimony. You can’t just dump your wife and not pay for it.”

“We were never married,” I said slowly. “Seriously, this is the last time. If you ever come

within a mile of me again, I’m calling the police getting a restraining order.”

She flinched back as if I’d slapped her. “You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would. And this place is so small, you basically wouldn’t be allowed to ever

come here again.”

“But…I love you.”

“No you don’t. You love my money. You don’t even know me.”

A car came down the street, and I glanced up to see if it was Marla, Tiffany’s older sister

who was essentially her babysitter whenever she was in this neighborhood. She had

probably been shopping at the nearby farmer’s market, and left Tiffany unsupervised for a

few minutes.

But it wasn’t Marla. It was a car I didn’t recognize. I watched helplessly as Becca bolted

out of the ice cream shop, waving down the driver.

I saw that it was Mrs. Moore, a lady who lived just a few houses down from me. Becca

jumped into the passenger seat without even glancing in my direction. As they drove away,

at least I knew she had a safe ride home. I’d have to figure out how to apologize later.

Another car came around the corner, and I saw that it was Officer Weir. “Don’t. Move,” I

said, glaring at Tiffany. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, pouting like a child.