by Tessa Bailey
SINK OR SWIM
A Beach Kingdom Novel
by Tessa Bailey
Copyright © 2019 Tessa Bailey
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About Mouth to Mouth
PROLOGUE
ANDREW WOKE UP to the sound of crying.
Crying was nothing new in their house, but this was different. The sobs sounded lighter than his mother’s. Younger.
Jiya.
Heart seizing in his chest, Andrew threw himself out of bed, wincing when the bruise on his ribs connected with the bedside table. He only took a split second to acknowledge the pain, however, because the cries coming from outside his window were making him feel far worse than any bruise. Any injury. He’d put up with endless abuse from his old man if it meant she would stop crying.
Having reached the window in record time, Andrew dug his fingers beneath the rickety, wooden frame and heaved it up. “Jiya?” He stuck his head out into the darkness, finding her huddled below, a ball of white cotton and messy black hair. “What the hell is going on? Come here.”
She lifted her head, swiping at her eyes, and Andrew got lightheaded over the way moonlight bathed her face. God, she was so pretty. Too pretty to be crying.
“I can’t come in,” she said, sounding miserable. “Not anymore.”
“Why not?” Andrew barked, before softening his tone when it reminded him too much of his father. “Why not, Jiya?”
“My mother knows I’ve been coming over at night. She saw the grass stains on my nightgown and noticed I’ve been tired…”
Andrew swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I’ve been making you tired.”
“No.” Jiya shot to her feet. “No, I love coming over.”
“Oh.” He bit back a smile, even though the happiness her words brought him was ridiculous. Jiya came over on the nights his father stumbled home drunk, because she knew what it meant. Business at the bar wasn’t doing well, money was tight and their father always took it out on somebody. Andrew was the oldest son and he tried to get in the way of those swinging fists as often as he could, but sometimes they missed and found their mark on his mother instead. Those were the worst nights.
After all, his mother didn’t have a Jiya to come over and curl up beside him afterward. Or pat her back, whispering nothing was her fault. Andrew was the luckiest kid in Long Beach to have a friend like Jiya, but it sounded like those comforting moments in the dark were being taken away from him now.
Well, he’d be damned before she felt bad about it. Bad about anything.
“Hey.” Andrew climbed out the window and dropped down beside Jiya on the patch of land that separated their houses. “It’s okay. I’ll still see you at school. I’ll see you all the time.”
“It’s not the same.” Jiya pressed her lips together, cutting a furtive glance to the side. “My mother said I can’t just go around sneaking into boys’ bedrooms anymore, because…”
“Because?”
“I’m developing,” she whispered, looking horrified.
Of course, Andrew’s attention locked right in on her breasts, before he whipped his gaze up toward the sky. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry I’m developing?”
“No. I mean…yes.” He shifted on his bare feet, pretty confused by his reaction to Jiya’s changing body. Part of him was horrified on her behalf, the other part of him wondered what the growing part of her anatomy might feel like to the touch. Which filled him with a strange mixture of guilt and…something else. “What’s the right answer?”
He looked down in time to catch Jiya’s shrug. “Andrew?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re my best friend.”
With his heart pressed up against his jugular, hugging Jiya seemed like the only thing in the world to do—and he wanted to so badly. Always did. Andrew pulled her to his chest and settled his cheek on the top of her head. Just like any other time he held Jiya in his arms, a sense of rightness settled over him. What would she say if she knew his deepest, most private thoughts?
They were more like dreams, though, weren’t they?
Not a day passed without Andrew closing his eyes and imagining him and Jiya living in the same house, sharing food from the same fridge, watching television together at night until she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.
Maybe someday.
Until then, he would protect her from everything. Hurt feelings, bad people, storms.
“You’re my best friend, too.”
Jiya sniffed. “You’re not going to treat me differently now that I’m a woman, are you?”
That weird something else feeling prodded him in the belly. “No?”
She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
Andrew cleared his throat hard. “No.”
Seeming satisfied, she settled back against him. He allowed himself to absorb her heat for a few more moments, before he urged her back toward her house. “I don’t want you getting in trouble again just for me.”
He knelt down with one knee bent, their usual way of boosting her back through her window. She rested a hand on his shoulder, preparing to climb in, but stopped, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re worth it, Andrew.”
And in that moment, Andrew Prince knew he’d love Jiya Dalal for the rest of his life.
CHAPTER ONE
Eighteen Years Later
JIYA PINCHED HER own knee beneath the table.
Focus on your date.
Navin was nice. Clean cut, polite, subtle cologne usage. When they’d sat down to eat, he’d encouraged Jiya to order for them, since she knew the menu by heart. That was also nice.
Nice nice nice.
If only they hadn’t sat near the front window of her family’s restaurant, Spice. This was the very table she languished at between waitressing shifts, watching the Cessnas drift past over the nearby Atlantic, imagining herself piloting them.
Also visible from the window?
The Castle Gate bar, owned and run by the Prince brothers.
Andrew wouldn’t be there yet. His bartending shift didn’t begin for another four hours. But the establishment itself was reminder enough of her best friend.
Did he know she was on a date?
When she had finally acquiesced to her mother’s wishes to begin dating, with a serious eye toward marriage, Jiya had half expected Long Beach to tilt on its axis. Or cracks to form in the wooden planks of the boardwalk. It didn’t seem right that nothing had changed. Today continued on just like any other, despite her attendance at a date arranged by her parents. The sun shin
ed down on sunburned tourists, children walked past with balloons and painted faces, customers entered and exited Spice onto the boardwalk, either hungry or stuffed.
A small-scale earthquake would have been nice.
There was that word again. Nice.
Jiya smiled along with Navin’s story about his recent trip to Germany while forking aloo tikka onto her appetizer plate. She cut into the golden brown potato patty and dabbed it in fresh mint chutney sauce she’d helped her mother make that morning, popping the bite into her mouth. Once again, her attention tugged toward the window and the beach beyond. A plane chugged along through the fluffy white clouds with a car insurance advertisement in tow, the low hum of the engine raising the hair on her arms like static.
She heard her mother sigh from all the way back in the kitchen and pinched her knee again beneath the table. “Oh wow. Oktoberfest?” She took a long sip of water. “That must have been wild. So much beer.”
“Oh yeah. Lots.” Navin leaned forward quickly. “Not that I…I mean, I had some. But I never overdid it.”
Jiya took another bite of her aloo tikka. “That’s a shame.”
He coughed a laugh, visibly unsure whether or not she was joking. “Every day at two o’clock, they give out free wedding cake. Hundreds of slices. To commemorate some wedding that took place in the nineteenth century.”
She paused with her fork in her mouth. “Tell me more about this cake.”
When the meal was over and her mother had not so surreptitiously passed the table on five separate occasions, Jiya knew damn near everything about Oktoberfest. She also knew she and Navin weren’t a match. The connection just wasn’t there. But she was glad they’d met. His stories about Germany might have been a little—fine, a lot—long-winded, but they only made Jiya more excited about her upcoming flying lessons.
Every so often, she felt trapped inside the walls of Spice. Sometimes even inside the confines of her own bedroom. Listening to talk of faraway places and spontaneous folk dancing renewed her want of…more. What did more even look like, though?
For a long time, she’d believed that more was something that happened naturally. When she saw it, she would know. And in a sense, she had known. The first time she’d watched a Cessna chug across the sky as a ten-year-old, she’d wanted to sit in the cockpit and see the world down below from a different point of view. The first time she’d seen Andrew, she’d been positive she could never, ever spend enough time with him.
Age, getting older, changes never factored in.
But that was naïve. Age was a factor for everyone, men and women alike. Priorities shifted as the years passed, and while she’d never felt too much pressure to find someone to spend the rest of her life with…she wanted that now. She wanted a foundation with someone built on respect. She wanted a home—preferably one where she didn’t have to share a bathroom with her parents or slap her mother’s undergarments out of the way to depart the shower.
The image of a potential new version of home refused to materialize, though.
Not without the man next door’s face showing up and making her stomach hurt.
Jiya attempted to shake off the thoughts of Andrew by draining her glass of water and turning her attention back to the horizon. Her brow furrowed when his image didn’t fade. At all. Probably because he was standing across the boardwalk from the restaurant, posted up against the railing. Watching her.
Jiya choked on her water.
“Are you okay?” Navin stood and circled the table. “Here, let me help.”
Before Navin could touch Jiya, she lunged to her feet and moved out of his reach. It was reflex, not wanting Andrew to see another man touch her. And he was definitely observing closely. Even with his eyes hidden behind Ray-Bans, that much was evident in his body language. Dressed in his red lifeguarding shorts and a loose white T-shirt, Andrew’s posture was casual, but she’d known Andrew since childhood. His stillness alone spoke volumes, because Andrew never stopped moving. Working. Grinding.
Lifeguard by day, bar owner by night, full-time superhero.
A muscle flexed in Andrew’s cheek and something spasmed in her belly.
That reaction made her indignant. Made the back of her neck turn hot.
Ooh. Andrew had a lot of nerve spying on her date. Even more nerve looking annoyed about it. If he’d wanted to date Jiya himself, he’d had ample opportunity. She’d been home from college for six years and he’d never asked her out. Not once. Never held her hand, kissed her, flirted with her. And she’d been an idiot to wait.
The admission made the ground ripple beneath her feet.
Oh God, she had been waiting for him. Hadn’t she?
She’d remained single, stuck in a work-sleep-work-sleep holding pattern for years, reading too much into Andrew’s secret smiles. Reading too much into the fact that he didn’t date, either. Hoping it meant something.
Hoping he was just waiting for the right moment to ask Jiya to be with him.
Well there had been a million opportunities and he’d passed on them all.
Hadn’t he?
Yes.
Jiya recognized the moment for the precipice it was. It was Andrew’s chance to seize this final opportunity. Do it. Storm into the restaurant and claim me. Beg me never to date again.
Ask me out yourself.
What if he didn’t?
She would have to move forward and stop daydreaming about a life that could never be. Since they were kids, she’d been imagining waking up inside of Andrew’s strong, safe arms. She’d imagined him sitting beside her during her mother’s annual Diwali feast, surrounded by their family and friends, cocooned in music and lights. Later, much later, she’d wondered what it would be like to see Andrew hold their child in his embrace. To care for them, the way he’d always cared for her.
Jiya could see now that she’d been delusional.
Prove me wrong.
If he didn’t, that would be it. No more entertaining the daydreams of the past. She would have to accept reality. Reality meant a potential future with someone besides Andrew. She might never feel about someone else the way she felt about her best friend, but she’d have this heartache either way, wouldn’t she? At least if she let her Andrew fantasies go, she could build a life. Build a family. The hurt might remain, but she’d have something to show for it.
Her throat ached as they watched each other through the window, tourists and seagulls moving between them in slow motion.
And something went dark inside her when Andrew ripped himself off the boardwalk railing and stalked away, that muscle still a livewire inside his cheek.
Over. You have to really let it be over now.
CHAPTER TWO
Two weeks later
THE TICK IN Andrew’s temple kept time with the clock.
No blinking allowed. If his eyelids interrupted his vision for even a second, he might miss her entrance and that didn’t work for him. Watching Jiya Dalal walk into her bedroom was his favorite part of the day.
Hell, lately it was the only part of the day he looked forward to.
His bedroom window was separated from hers by a brief patch of land running between their houses, a mixture of dead grass and sand that had been carried on the wind from the nearby beach. He spent his days on that beach playing lifeguard. Blowing his whistle, warning vacationers about the undertow, watching the endless blue/beige landscape from behind his sunglasses. Day in and day out, endless strings of moments leading to this one.
That’s all they were.
Andrew’s gaze bounced over to the clock and came slingshotting back. When he realized his muscles were tightened to the point of pain—she’s late—he let out a rough exhale. He forced himself to his feet and over to his dresser where he stripped off the Castle Gate polo shirt that made up his nighttime uniform for the summer. He’d taken a rare two days off from the bar for his brother’s impromptu bachelor party and wedding, so instead of laying out the shirt for another use, he launched it towar
d the laundry basket. Though Andrew fully intended to do laundry, he was realistic enough to admit he’d probably be digging that shirt out of the basket in two days’ time. Bachelor life had its hooks in deep.
That’s not what he wanted.
But that’s how it needed to be.
A light came on in Andrew’s periphery and his body tensed in the act of digging a fresh shirt out of his top drawer. Anticipation, relief—and fuck it, joy—wrapped up his stomach like a birthday present, tying it tight with a bow. Jiya was home from work.
Not out on a date.
But how long until the awkward lunchtime meeting he’d watched through the window of Spice turned into an evening movie? A walk to the front door?
A kiss.
Misery laced his organs and pulled them taut, tying tight like a sneaker. So tight, he had to press a hand to his stomach and rub at the ache. He’d known it would come to this eventually. Hell, he’d been gifted a thirty-year reprieve from witnessing Jiya with another man. He might even consider himself lucky if there was room for anything else but cold-blooded jealousy.
No, that wasn’t true, though. Was it? There was room for a lot more.
Andrew turned his head and their gazes collided through their bedroom windows, the very sight of her expanding his lungs, his heart. All of him. This routine originated back in middle school, when she’d been unable to sneak into his room any longer—thanks to boobs—as she’d been doing since they were nine and ten. Before that…God, he didn’t want to think of a time before Jiya. A time when his best friend wasn’t in his life. Living next door.
Occupying his every waking thought.
She stood with her hand frozen in mid-air, having just turned on the bedroom light. Eyes he knew to be hickory brown with tiny golden flecks around the iris were widened on him.
Surprised? Why?
With a jolt, Andrew realized he hadn’t put a shirt on yet. He was standing in his bedroom in black slacks, naked from the waist up—and that was not part of the routine. His image reflected back at him from the bedroom window and he could admit without vanity that it was a strong body. With his day job being what it was, staying in good shape was a given. And Jiya had seen him without a shirt before. Hundreds of times. He was a lifeguard for chrissakes and her family restaurant where she worked was within spitting distance of his usual lifeguard chair. But she’d never seen him shirtless while encapsulated in this nightly ritual of saying good night through their bedroom windows.
