Chapter 10

Lara swished her feet in the water, watching as the waves moved out toward the infinity edge. She sipped on her daiquiri and enjoyed the sun beating down on her shoulders while she observed the people around the pool.

Namely, her people.

Lara’s mother and Delia sat on barstools and chatted animatedly in their accidentally matching wide-brimmed hats and black one-pieces, though Delia’s was far less modest than her mother’s.

Lara wondered if, from the outside, it appeared like Delia was the daughter and she the friend. But then she looked at her father, wading across the pool toward her with two cold beers in hand, and she knew her parentage was undeniable.

She may have been loud and assertive like her mother, but she had her father’s steady hands and strawberry hair.

And his taste in beverages.

Smiling, she accepted the drink when he reached her and cast her melted cocktail aside.

He pulled himself out of the water and sat beside her. “You’re quiet today, Beanie.” He kept his eyes on the skyline as he sipped his beer. “It’s not about that boy, is it?” His lips turned down in a frown.

Lara laughed. “No, no boy troubles,” she assured him, though she supposed that wasn’t entirely true. “I just hope you and Mama are enjoying your weekend.”

“Course we are,” he said, brushing her concerns off with ease. “Any day’s a good day with our little girl.” His heavy hand fell onto her knee in two comforting pats.

Warmth bloomed in her chest at the sentiment, but a tiny knot worked into her belly at the same time. “I’m not so little, you know. I’m doing pretty well for myself out here.”

Her father’s smile was subtle but affectionate as he turned to face her. “I never doubted it.” He gave her two more knee pats. “I can see why you like it here.” He nodded toward the sprawling city below them. “You were always a bit too big for our li’l pond.”

Lara relished in her father’s recognition for a beat before poking him hard in his soft stomach. “You calling me a whale?” She wagged her finger in warning.

He laughed, throwing his arm over her shoulders in a tight hold—simultaneously giving her a much-needed hug and pinning her arms down to put an end to her poking.

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the skyline, sipping their drinks, and listening to the traffic below, along with the chattering of Delia and her mother at the bar. In this moment, Lara thought that maybe she had just found the balance she had been looking for.

“Honey!” her mother called, tearing Lara away from her thoughts.

“Yes?” Lara and her father answered together.

The woman then waved them over so eagerly that she nearly whacked her big ol’ hat right off her head.

“Let’s make a toast,” Delia said, and gestured to the four glasses of Champagne lined up on the bar.

“What are we toasting to?” Lara asked as she traded her empty beer cup for a flute before laughing at her mother’s and Delia’s synchronized eye rolls.

“To my three favorite girls,” said her dad, who shared a private smile with her as he raised his glass.

Delia and her mother gushed as the four of them clinked their glasses together in a toast.

Lara and Delia moved to the pool’s built-in loungers, which were half-submerged in water, and soaked in the sun, amused by how Lara’s mother bossed her dad around the pool. Despite his put-upon expression, Lara knew he kind of liked being told what to do by his wife.

He “yes, deared” his way through life, and while Lara had always seemed to take her mother’s approach by bullying her problems into submission, she was starting to see the appeal of her father’s way of life.

“God, they are too funny,” Delia said through her giggles. “I hope I can be that in love one day.”

“Ew,” Lara said primly, though she secretly agreed.

***

Their evening went as swimmingly as the afternoon had, with good food, a beautiful view of the sunset over the city skyline, and easy conversation.

Lara’s mother and Delia always whispered like old friends trading gossip, and when it was time for the bill, Lara’s father and Delia jostled elbow to elbow, each vying for the honor of paying.

Lara always loved when the four of them were together. Delia had spent so much time at the Hendrys’ that Lara’s parents practically considered her one of their own.

Delia’s parents were lovely, but they had split early on in Delia’s life. With his company based out of the city, her father had moved, leaving Delia with her mother, who owned a flower shop in town that kept her busy.

Lara’s parents had never been rich, but they did have a warm home, a cupboard full of snacks, and a trundle bed. And Delia had always been welcome.

“It was nice to see you, sweetheart,” Lara’s father said while enveloping Delia in a bear hug.

Delia wrapped her arms tight around him in return. “I’ll stop by next time I visit my mom.”

“You’d better,” Lara’s mother warned, trading in her threatening finger wags for a stifling embrace.

Delia laughed, squeezing equally as hard until Lara’s mother relented and broke away. “I promise,” she vowed through her giggles as she waved goodbye. “Bye, Auntie Mellie, Uncle Kirk.”

Lara beeped as she pulled away from Delia’s building, with her parents waving out the window until she turned onto the busy road, at which point all limbs disappeared back inside the vehicle.

The drive home was anything but quiet; Lara and her mother could be real ramblers, and when put together, there wasn’t a silence in the world they would not conquer. Her poor father had to sit in the back seat and endure being the occasional butt of their jokes.

“This city driving makes me so nervous. I think my bladder’s about to burst,” her mother announced, hopping out of the car once Lara had parked underneath her building.

Lara laughed, tossing over her apartment key. Her mother snatched it out of the air before the clack of her heels bounced off the concrete walls as she ran for the elevators.

“What a charmer,” her father deadpanned, and collected the bag of wet clothes and towels from the trunk.

“I just gotta stop at the mail room, but you can head on up.” Lara punched the button for the lobby, but before she could hit the thirty-second floor for him, he grabbed her wrist.

“I’ll join you,” he said, giving her a warm smile as he dropped his arm around her shoulders. “Gotta soak in my Lara-Bean time while I can.”

“Softy,” she teased. “We still have tomorrow.”

“Oh, counting down the days, are you?” He pressed his palm to his chest in mock offense.

“Absolutely.”

“You’re cruel, just like your mother.”

Lara laughed as they walked into the mail room, where her gaze immediately darted to the message board, a habit she had formed since the panties incident. Thankfully, there were only the usual notices.

As muscle memory guided her to her box, she got out her key and then looked up, freezing in her tracks the moment she spotted the pop of color spilling from its slot.

Her father’s arm fell from her shoulders, and her cheeks seared with the intensity of her mortification.

Stuffed into the small opening was a lingerie set: a mesh thong and matching bra adorned with pink flowers and trimmed in a green hue that suspiciously resembled her bikini.

Accompanying the lingerie, smack-dab in the center of her mailbox, was a pink Post-it that read: “Thanks for the other night.”

She was going to kill Zavien. Slowly. Painfully. Imaginatively. And with glee.

Her father’s derisive snort broke her from her stupor. She began snatching the incriminating items as quickly as she could, but the damage had been done. She couldn’t bear to look at him when he said, “No boy troubles, huh?”