Love is a Beach: a romantic comedy

by Lilliana Anderson

  She blows out a heavy breath then presses her teeth into her bottom lip. “I don’t understand why you want me.”

  “I want you because you’re real.”

  Her hand floats up and she presses her fingers against her forehead. “I’m so high right now, and it’s really hard for me to remember why we should only be friends. Because you”—she blows out her breath so it makes a high-pitched ‘who’ sound—“are so hot. But I know, I know that only being friends is for the best. For a while, anyway. My daughter, Abigail, isn’t taking the separation well at all. She’s been desperately trying to get in contact with her father and the arsehole won’t even return a single text. You’d think that would make her angry at him but no, she’s taking all of her anger out on me. She’s holding out hope that everything will go back to normal and we can all go home. And that’s just not going to happen. I still haven’t told her she has to go to school here too because she’s going to implode or screech so loud it’ll make my ears bleed. We are not coping, Leo. Not at all.”

  So much information came in such a short burst of time that I’m not sure how to hold my face. Firstly—and this is the point I’m happiest about—she seems as into me as I’m into her. Secondly, she’s having trouble with her daughter, something I can more than empathise with. I’m caught between wanting to fist-pump the air and nod in understanding. In the end I go with, “Can’t be easy on you,” because that literally covers everything she just said.

  She lets out another steady breath. “It feels impossible. Everything about my life feels so complicated right now. I have no qualifications for anything. Kevin didn’t think I needed a university degree once I became a mother, and when he left, he took most of our money. Ruined my credit. Lost the house. I’m drowning here, and I don’t even know where to start. I mean, I know I need a job, but what am I supposed to do with no work history that will also provide for me and the kids?”

  She’s stumbling over her words like her tongue is too thick for her mouth. I finish the rest of the joint and bury the butt in my garden with the toe of my shoe, listening while she talks without pause. All I can think is that she’s amazing. She really is lost and overwhelmed, and not once has she belittled her husband even though he fucking ran off and buried them financially. I always vowed not to speak out about Tash, but even I would have struggled to keep quiet if she’d succeeded in ruining my career and left me in a position of nothing. This woman before me deserves a crown. I wish I could pull her into my arms and tell her everything is going to be OK. Because it will. I’ll make sure of it.

  “I’m forty,” she laments, while I stand here falling for her even harder. She’s stronger than she knows. “I can’t go back to school and start again. I’ll be retirement age before I even start a career. And I can’t live here for the rest of my life and sponge off Nana. She’d let me, you know? She’s so generous like that, but I’m not one to take advantage. Have you ever had that, Leo? Someone taking advantage of your kind nature? It sounds contrite when I say it out loud, but I give and I give and I give. And really, I just want the people around me to be happy. But no one is trying to make me happy. Do you ever get that? That the only person in this world who actually cares about you is yourself?” She pauses and stares at me for a moment, but before I can answer, she gasps and puts her hand over her mouth. “Oh, that sounds so horrible. I have Nana, and she cares about everyone. And I have my kids; they care. I sound so selfish. I mean, it’s not like I’m the only woman who’s ever had her husband survive cancer only to leave her the moment he finds out he’ll live. I don’t know anybody who went through the same thing, but with all the billions of people on this planet, surely one other person went through the same thing.” She laughs, but the pitch has changed. I’m reeling, because I can’t quite wrap my head around that last part.

  “Are you saying that you helped your husband through cancer treatment then he left as soon as he was given the all clear?” Have I mentioned the desire to punch this guy in the face before? Because now I wouldn’t mind breaking his legs too.

  She nods, pressing her lips together like she’s feeling ill. “It’s the first thing he said when we got out of the oncologist’s office. I was talking about celebrating his remission and he told me he wanted a divorce.” She frowns. What a fucking arse. “I think I need a drink. Do you have a drink?”

  “You know I do.” I hold out my hand, and without even hesitating, she takes it. But then she just looks confused.

  “Why am I holding your hand?”

  I laugh. “So you can climb over to my side of the deck. It’s where the drinks are. Your side has dope and my side has alcohol.”

  “Oh, I get it.” Gripping my hand a little tighter, she climbs around the privacy screen, quite nimble for someone who was complaining of a sore back. I shift a hand to her hips, steadying her as her bare feet hit the decking.

  She sucks in her breath, and all I want to do is lean in, taste those full lips…

  “All right?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I just miss this,” she says.

  “This?” I frown, not sure what she means and not wanting to jump to conclusions.

  She tightens her hand, still in mine, then nods towards my other hand at her hip. “Dancing.” She smiles then shakes her head. “I know that’s not what we’re doing, but it reminds me of dancing. It’s been so, so long.”

  “Did you dance much with your husband?”

  “Oh, God, no. He hated it. It’s funny, I always dreamed as a girl that I’d get married and we’d be one of those couples who do the dishes together and dance to the radio.” She relaxes her grip and steps back. “Silly when I think of it now.”

  I catch her back up again and lift my hand so that she spins beneath it, releasing a small giggle. “There’s nothing silly about wanting someone to spend time with you.” I pull her back towards me and we sway to the sound of the ocean, the haze of our minds making it easy to slip back into familiarity. She feels so good in my arms.

  “That’s all I wanted,” she whispers, looking up at me. “Companionship, someone who cared about me, loved me as I was. Marriage was very different to what I imagined it was going to be.”

  “Perhaps that’s because you were married to the wrong person.”

  “Maybe,” she muses, her eyes searching mine. “What did you think marriage would be like?”

  “I don’t know, but it definitely wasn’t what I got.”

  “When did you decide you were through?” The weed has definitely taken away all of her filters, because we only skated around this topic previously.

  I smile, enjoying this strange and personal conversation we’re having. “The day I found out she was cheating on me. I packed a bag and left then and there.”

  “Did you want to take your son?”

  “I did. But I was still in training, still touring. The courts thought he’d be better off with his mum. I got weekends and holidays when I wasn’t working.”

  “Did you miss him?”

  “Every day. Tash has made it very difficult for me to keep seeing him.”

  “But you keep fighting for him anyway.” She smiles. “You’re a good man, Leo Murphy.”

  Then she rests her head on my chest and I smile too, because this feels profoundly right. Her body against mine, the scent of her shampoo in my nose. I brush my mouth, featherlight against the top of her head and hum the tune of a song I don’t know the name of, enjoying every moment we remain like this. When I finish, she sighs and lifts her head. “I think I’d like that drink now,” she says, pulling her hand away from my touch, making me realise that just being friends with her is going to be an incredibly difficult feat. Who am I kidding? I already knew I didn’t just want to be friends with this woman. But if that’s all she’s got for now, I’ll man up like the lucky bastard I am and take it.

  Lucky I’m a patient guy.

  TWENTY

  DARCY

  I wake up with a headache and a stiff neck. No doubt the dry t
hroat is from sleeping with my mouth open. On the couch. Ugh. I haven’t fallen asleep sitting up since the kids were babies.

  With a groan, I lean to the side. My memory’s fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure I got high, climbed over to Leo’s, danced to no music then got drunk, during which, I unloaded all of my problems onto him. Must have been a riot for him—not.

  I need water.

  Trying to stand and stay asleep at the same time, I wriggle from the couch, knocking into something hard on my left side. I open my eyes with a start. This feels a hell of a lot like another body. My fully open eyes confirm what my hands feel: Leo is sound asleep next to me, his arm draped over the back of his comfy leather couch, body slumped to the side, soft snores coming along with his breath. There’s even a nice shadow of stubble coating his cheeks and chin. Would it be weird if I touched it? I’m going with a yes on that one. Still, it’s very sweet seeing such a big brawny guy looking all soft from sleep. Although I should probably stop watching Leo sleep and focus a little more on the fact I’m not even in the right apartment. “Fuck.” I pat my hands over my chest, thankful when I find I’m fully clothed. At least I didn’t get freaky with him again.

  “Language, young lady,” a new voice says behind me. Startled, I spin around, one hand doing a quick swipe over my face to clear away any drool and smooth over my hair.

  “What the?”

  Sitting at the dining table eating cereal is a young guy who I’m assuming is Leo’s seventeen-year-old son. He has the same dark hair and hazel eyes as his father, but his skin is lacking the deep tan that goes hand in hand with a life by the sea. In fact, it’s a little sunburnt.

  “I’d give you my name, lady, but I don’t reckon he’ll keep you around long. No offence, but you’re not his usual type.”

  I open my mouth, not sure what to say or if the current scene is even worth an explanation, but before I can even form a complete thought, I notice the time on the microwave in the kitchen and jump up from the couch.

  “It’s eight fifteen.”

  “Oh, he picked a clever one this time,” the kid says, giving me a little clap. “Well done. It is eight fifteen.”

  I shoot him an unimpressed look. “I need to go.”

  “The old folk’s home doesn’t know you’re out?”

  Pursing my lips together, I decide I have enough issues with my own teenager, and leave that one alone. I really need to find my shoes so I can get back to Nana’s. The kids will be up by now, and they’ll be wondering where I am.

  Shit.

  “Where the hell are my shoes?” I do a full circle before I remember and slap my hand against my forehead. “Oh God, I wasn’t even wearing any.”

  “I take back the part about you being smart.”

  I roll my eyes and head for the sliding door. “Tell Leo thanks and that I had to go, will you?”

  He responds by yelling, “Hey Leo, your latest conquest says thanks for the peen.”

  I want to bang my head against the double-glazed glass. Peen? What the… Ohhhh. “We didn’t…” I stammer, walking backwards for a couple of steps as Leo sits up and rubs his eyes, looking as confused as I felt when I first woke.

  “Darcy?” Leo turns and finds me trying to make my escape.

  “Your latest is trying to do the walk of shame,” the kid tells him through a mouthful of cereal.

  “I’mnotbutthanksforthechat. Andthedrinks. Gottago bye.” I say each word so quickly that they all run into each other. I pretty much take off in a puff of smoke.

  I have no idea how I managed to climb around the privacy screen last night, so I take the long way around to Nana’s deck, speed-walking because the concrete isn’t being very kind to the soles of my feet.

  “Darcy,” Leo calls after me, but I move faster, pushing in through the sliding door and closing it tight so attractive ex-football stars can no longer be heard. What the hell is wrong with me? I have responsibilities. I can’t go getting drunk and falling asleep on my—incredibly sexy—neighbour’s couch.

  I place a hand on my face and let out my breath. It’s like I can’t handle being a human anymore.

  “Good morning,” Nana chirps, grinning at me knowingly as she places bowls of Bircher muesli on the table in front of the kids. “Hungry?”

  “Morning, Mummy,” Archer sing-songs, diving a silver spoon into the fruity concoction in front of him.

  Abigail frowns as she looks me up and down. “Where have you been?”

  “I…uh…” I look to Nana for assistance.

  “She went for an early morning walk,” she says, rescuing me, because my hungover mind cannot come up with a feasible excuse right now.

  Thank you, I mouth. She winks in response then prepares a bowl for me too, setting a cup of strong tea to the side of it. The nourishment is just what I need after too much beer and…bourbon, I think? I can’t even remember. It was a giant drunken pity party.

  “What are your plans today?” I ask Abby when my brain feels a little less raw.

  She shrugs.

  “I hear you’ve made yourself some new friends. Parasailing was it?” I frown, trying to remember.

  Abby rolls her eyes. “Windsurfing, Mum. And maybe I’ll tell you about my social life when you explain what’s going on with Dad.”

  I am far too hungover for this.

  “Your mother is doing the best she can right now, Abigail. I suggest you give her a little credit. She’s not the one who left you all,” Nana says, her lips tight, her voice surprisingly calm.

  Abigail’s mouth drops open like she can’t believe anyone would dare take my side.

  “Yeah,” Archer chimes in. “Give Mum a break. If Dad wanted to talk to us he’d answer one of your fifty million text messages.” He holds her phone up and scrolls through the messages to demonstrate.

  Abigail practically launches herself across the table. “You little arsehole. Give that back.”

  “Both of you stop it this instant,” I yell, my voice ringing in my ears to get over the din of their shrieking while they chase each other around the apartment. Abigail manages to fake Archer out and snatch her phone out of his hands, and I realise he also has his own phone and is filming the whole thing for his YouTube channel, no doubt.

  “Wait for it,” he says, turning the camera on himself.

  “What did you do?” Abigail looks like her head is about to explode.

  Archer giggles. “I sent Snapchats of you sleeping to everyone on your friends list.”

  Oh crap.

  Abigail screeches, a high-pitched sound that I’m surprised isn’t shattering the glass, then she launches herself at Archer, and the next thing I know, they’re rolling around on the ground, pulling hair.

  “That’s enough. That’s enough. That’s enough,” I yell, trying to break them apart. I succeed only slightly, holding them both by the back of their shirts while they continue swiping at each other. We’re all red-faced and yelling.

  Then we aren’t. We’re drenched with ice-cold water that Nana throws over the top of us. “You act like animals. I treat you like animals,” she bellows.

  “Nana,” Abigail gasps.

  Archer laughs. “Epic.” He shuts the camera off on his phone.

  “I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed I am in you two right now,” I say, snatching the phones from the both of them. “You’ll get these back when you learn to behave. Home by five, and drop the attitude.” I point a finger at Abigail then shift my glare to Archer. “And apologise to your sister for messing with her phone.”

  “Sorry,” he mutters.

  “You will be grounded for the rest of the holidays if you are so much as a second late,” I direct at Abigail. “And same goes for you if I so much as suspect you pulled any pranks at the holiday club today. Got it?”

  “Yes, Mum,” they both mumble.

  “Now apologise to Nana.”

  “Sorry, Nana.”

  Nana nods graciously. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up? Then we can
start the day over.”

  Skulking off, one heads for the bathroom while the other goes into their room. Nana pulls me aside and looks at me with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m dying to know where you were last night.” She waggles her eyebrows.

  I can’t help but laugh. “You’d think you were in high school still.”

  She shrugs. “In my day, most of us girls didn’t make it that far.”

  “You would have loved it. Everyone loves talking about everyone else’s business. Especially if it has something to do with dating.”

  Her eyes light up. “Oh, is that what you and Leo were doing last night? Were you on a date?”

  With a laugh, I shake my head. “No. We were honestly just talking. Nothing else.”

  “Until eight o’clock in the morning?”

  “We fell asleep on the couch.”

  “With your clothes still on?” She looks disappointed.

  “Yes. Talking generally requires clothes.”

  She waves her hand in the air and starts clearing away breakfast dishes. “The best type of talking happens without them. It’s called pillow talk and it’s beautiful and soul bearing.”

  “Speaking of clothes, I’m drenched,” I say, deciding to change the subject.

  “Yes. Sorry about that. You were collateral damage.”

  I wipe a hand over my wet arm. “No. It’s me who should be saying sorry. They acted like mongrels and they know better.”

  “Trying times,” she says, shrugging the whole thing off in her unique way. “Why don’t you get changed yourself while I clean up this mess? You can use the en-suite bathroom. Use the spa bath if you like, and take a moment to de-stress.”

  This woman has a way of taking a bad situation and turning it on its head. I want to be her when I grow up. “Thanks, Nana. For everything. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

  She kisses her fingers and salutes me like we’re in The Hunger Games, and I walk away chuckling to myself, wondering where in the world she comes up with this stuff.