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“You know that’s a lie,” Mona says, as she joins us at the table, already eyeing the iced fresh fruit her pregnancy cravings have been demanding. “The man hates sand.”
“Who can relax when sand gets into places sand should never be?” I ask, which only prompts an outburst of giggles. I shake my head.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy a bit of travel every once in a while. I do. It’s actually one of the best parts of my job. I just know where I’ll feel the most confident in getting the best results. A small town in Florida is not it for me.
In New York City, no one really cares who you are unless they’re about to close a deal with you. People know how to mind their own business. Plus, the city has everything you could ever need. I’m never bored here.
Spending weeks in a small town that’s barely on the map, surrounded by sand, without even a Starbucks for miles, and with everyone knowing everyone’s business, is my idea of a nightmare.
But there are times when I can’t help but wonder if there is something more to life outside of my family’s business, outside of the Bellamy name. It’s all too apparent how alone I am when I come home to a frozen dinner and a cold, empty, king-sized bed.
Every morning, the same thing happens. Even though I know I went to bed by myself, I still reach my hand across the cool sheets, as if a beautiful woman will be there waiting for me to wake her up. It’s only when my mind fades out of dreams and wakes to reality that I remember that I’m still alone.
The only thing accompanying me in the early morning hours is my screaming alarm clock reminding me to start yet another day working for the Bellamy name. It sucks, but it’s better than life in a small-town fishbowl.
“No, you’re just a grumpy workaholic who doesn’t like change,” Troy says. “Suck it up, buttercup. Call it character building.”
Touché.
“There’s nothing I can say to get me out of this?” I check.
“Your flight leaves on Friday,” he says, as he sends me my itinerary. “Non-refundable, I’m afraid.”
I look over at Lillian, who grins mockingly. “Better you than me,” she says.
“Bummer,” is all I can think of to say in my defense. “How long do I have to be there?”
He smirks. “As long as it takes.” And so, the nightmare begins.
Chapter four
Meg – Is There a Real Prince Charming?
Nothing in the world can beat the view of Seaside Cove. I’ll never forget the day our grandpa gifted us our quaint little seaside cottage. Mia and I were trying to find the perfect place for just the two of us and this little treasure was tucked away in plain sight.
The white cottage with a porch swing is still in need of some repairs, a coat of paint or two, but that’s okay. It gives the place character. It shows that it’s been well-loved by the two of us and will continue to be loved for years to come. Not everyone can say they live in their dream house, so I consider myself lucky enough to say so.
The quaint little cottage is neatly tucked away beside the shore, just out of view of the inn. Right now, the sky is painted with strokes of burning reds and vibrant oranges as the sun begins to set while Lizaardo is sunbathing on the porch with Tigger and Pooh watching from inside.
Soon the cool purples and blues will come, extinguishing the flames of the sunset to a dull gray, just before fading to a midnight sky. It’s the most perfect way to end the day.
As I gaze up at the sky above me, I admit there’s been a part of me that wishes I could be sharing it with someone, like I see the couples on the beach do nearly every day.
The blue woven hammock slowly sways under my weight as it gently lulls me. I can feel my body begin to relax, one part at a time. My jaw unclenches, my shoulders drop, my eyelids feel heavy, and soon enough, I feel like I could float away with the clouds that are just out of reach.
I reach my left arm out to my side, but in the silence of the sunset, I’m alone. There’s no one to softly play with my hair as I nestle into his chest, while we listen to the tired waves lazily crash on the empty shore.
Sometimes when moments like this really pull on my heartstrings, I imagine that a love interest from a book I’m reading is there with me, and I feel a little less alone.
More often than not, I can’t help but admire and envy the smiling couples I see walking along the beach while I’m walking dogs. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone to care for me besides Mia, and of course Grandpa.
I play little scenarios in my head about people when I’m watching them from afar. Couples especially. I think of where they came from, what brought them to Seaside, and what their love story is. I think most people would admire happy-looking couples because they make it look like love is easy. I know it’s not.
That’s why I tend to admire the more passionate couples that don’t have a problem speaking their minds to each other in public. The kind of arguments and little tiffs that are usually only talked about behind closed doors.
I don’t know why but there’s something refreshing about seeing it in the open. It’s messy but it’s real. You can’t hide your feelings when you’re arguing out in the open. But I rarely see that vulnerability.
Couples like that don’t play pretend when things get hard. At least in my head, they deal with the things that other people could easily ignore and let fester until those problems destroy the relationship altogether. I want someone I can run to for anything, but who I can also speak my mind to without worrying about a hurtful reaction.
