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Chapter one
Tilly
I'm sitting on the sun-warmed sand, the salty ocean breeze teasing my hair as I watch Samantha Sanderson, my best friend, laugh and splash around in the sparkling waves with her niece, Annie. The scent of sunscreen and the distant call of seagulls blend together to create my happy place. Watching the two of them together is always a highlight of my day. It's no surprise they've become so close; Annie hadn't met her aunt, Sam, until last year.
Sam had been hiding out in Costa Rica with me, long before Annie was even born. Watching Sam with her, it's clear she's an incredible aunt—always eager to show Annie new things, sneaking her candy, buying her toys. It's utterly adorable.
And it's good practice, too. Sam is eight months pregnant now, and while I'm genuinely happy for her, I can't shake the feeling that I'm losing her bit by bit. New house, new husband, new baby; it's impossible to compete.
Still, I love seeing her with her family. We've been apart for too long. Sam and I first met while on the run in Costa Rica, but she went back to California to donate a chunk of her liver to her nephew, Clark. It led her into a whirlwind of murder charges from a decade-old issue with her abusive ex-husband. Thankfully, she was acquitted, but she stayed in San Diego afterward. After being apart for six months and finding out she was expecting, I made the move as well. I might just be her friend, but there is no way I’m missing out on being the cool aunt Tilly to whatever spawn she gives birth to. Trying to fit into her new life is sometimes hard. I spend time with Penny, Sam's real sister, and I'm dating Ben, one of Greg's friends. Despite this, I often feel like the third wheel in Sam's life.
Rising to my feet, I decide it's time to go. "Sammy! I'm gonna head out," I call out to her. Sam straightens up and waves. "Okay, see you Tuesday?" I smile and nod. God, she’s fucking huge. Don’t get me wrong, she looks fantastic. So…glowy. Yeah, it’s a cliché, but damn if it isn’t true. That big ole belly, cheeks rosy from the sun, happiness radiating off her because of the hunk that splurged a baby right up into her uterus.
Greg is watching from the shore, ready to jump in and carry her back to the chair he brought along like the smitten mess of a husband he is. His dark blonde hair and piercing eyes. My friend certainly did well for herself, even if he’s gained a little sympathy weight.
He gives me a little wave from where he’s watching his wife. “Be good.” His eyes narrow like I have some sort of bank job on the horizon. But that’s Greg. He’s the big brother I never had or wanted. That’s what happens when your best friend disappears and you have to join forces with her jaded boyfriend to find her. We grew close while waiting for Sam to come to her senses and even closer since I moved to San Diego a few months ago.
“I’m always good,” I say with a wiggle of my brows.
He chuckles and lets out an exaggerated shudder, like he’s warding off a curse. “Don’t be gross. I got enough sand up my ass and puckering hurts.”
I turn to leave and hear him clear his throat. “Don’t forget about that lesson on Monday. I won’t be here to annoy you to be on time.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. One fucking time being late and now I get his little reminders.
"Got it," I say, quickening my pace to get away from his overbearing coddling. They are appreciated almost as often as I win the lottery, which is never.
As I go, I try to push aside the unease of leaving them at all. We spent far too long apart when they first moved. Being here with my chosen family feels right, but I miss Costa Rica—the tangy taste of freshly squeezed limonada on my lips, the vibrant dances at local fiestas, laughing with friends under starlit skies... and Tommy.
Tommy, with his sun-kissed skin and easy smile.
Just the thought of his name sends a pang through my heart. But we haven't spoken in more than a year. If I'm honest with myself, leaving Costa Rica was less about following Sam and more about putting distance between Tommy and me. Though we weren’t on speaking terms, I still happened to see him around town from time to time.
Surfing in the waves like some sort of ocean god, eating tacos at my favorite stand, jogging on the beach. It was as if I was haunted by him.
Thinking about him always sends my thoughts adrift, and before I know it, I'm back at the surf shop. This place, worn by the humid climate, carries the unique blend of salt from the ocean breeze and the earthy scent of mildew that clings to the old walls. Penny, Sam's sister, gifted it to Sam as a wedding present. With her fortune made by dealing real estate to California's rich and famous, Penny could afford such grand gestures. Me? I framed a picture of us. In a bargain bin find, no less. It was appreciated. That much is clear by where she put it, but still, can't compete with Mrs. McRich up in Monterey.
As I step inside, Rick, our shopkeeper, greets me with a wave. "Hey Til, taking off?" he asks. Rick, in his sixties and a bit of a surf bum, is sweet and has always treated me like a daughter, which I adore.
"Yep. I'm heading out tonight."
"With that guy again?" His eyes twinkle with mischief. Rick always enjoys hearing about my dating life, much like old ladies relish their soap operas.
"Ben, yes."
"Mhm. And does Benny-boy know about your other men?"
I laugh, even though the comment stings a bit. He makes it sound like I sleep with everyone in Southern California. Have I gone out with others? Sure. But I didn’t sleep with them. Hell, I haven’t even slept with Ben. Made out in his car a few times? Sure. But have I given him all-access to the purring kitty in my jean shorts? Nope. Not even a little. "He knows we're not exclusive, yes." After grabbing my purse from a locker in the back, I rush out the front door, waving bye to Rick as I do. “See you tomorrow!”
“Be good, Til.” Lord, not again. Does everyone just think I’m some evil villain with one foot in a jail cell?
“Will do,” I say back, my words a little clipped.
I unchain my bike and hop on. My apartment is only a few blocks away. I've been living there since Sam and Greg asked me to move out to make room for the baby's nursery in what used to be my room. The memory of that night still sends a small pang through my chest. Jealous of a baby. Pathetic. The real issue seems to be how life in Costa Rica was filled with a never-ending single lifestyle, yet now, it feels like she is settling down without me.
Tension builds as I pedal down the street. There's nothing specifically wrong, but thinking about all the changes in my life still stresses me. Luckily, I have the perfect way to unwind waiting at home—a new toy that has become my nightly delight. And no, it's not the dirty kind. That collection is older than the redwoods and in perfect working order, as I discover on an almost daily basis.
When I reach Padre Gardens, my apartment complex, I haul the bike up the stairs, nearly cursing when a pedal clips my ankle. When will I finally buy a car? It seems ridiculous that at twenty-eight, I'm still relegated to using a bike or the bus.
After setting the bike down, I dig through my bag for my keys, unlock the door, and roll my bike inside. Once in, I huff, blowing a stray hair out of my face.
