by Laura Riley
I rub my elbow and examine the skin. “Ouch.”
Ellie’s eyes are wide as she too looks to see if I’m hurt.
I slap my forehead. “I’m so clumsy.” I point to the picture. “I’ll just spread glue here and stick the pieces of paper here. Darn, the bowl is empty.”
I try not to smile as Ellie gathers a few pieces of the orange paper and places them next to the picture. I don’t thank her. She has to join in without realising what she’s doing.
I grab one of the glue sticks and pull off the lid. Time for the demo. “It’s really simple. All I have to do is cover a small area with glue and stick the squares on.” After spreading glue on Nemo’s head, I do just that.
Phase two of my plan.
“Oh, darn. I left the other colours in the kitchen.”
After standing and brushing myself down. I walk slowly to the kitchen to retrieve the other bowls. I make a point of rattling a few pots and pans about. Then, as slowly as I entered, I make my way back to the lounge.
Ellie is sitting on the carpet, gluing the pieces of paper squares to Nemo. Without making eye contact I sit next to her, placing the bowl with black paper squares between us.
We sit in silence, sticking paper squares to the picture whilst, ironically, Finding Nemo plays on the TV. She doesn’t look up at the screen once. I have her undivided attention.
Seth makes his way down the stairs. “Beach time, baby.”
Ellie doesn’t move. She sits looking down at our mosaic. In my periphery I can see her glancing at me. When I look at her, she looks away. Against my better judgement, I reach over to her, brushing hair out of her eyes. She doesn’t flinch, instead her gaze stays fixed on my hand. I don’t have one maternal bone in my body, but all I want to do at this moment is hold her in my arms and tell her everything will be okay. I don’t do this, instead softly stroking her cheek with my index finger.
She clears her throat, I assume to speak, but she says nothing.
I wait for a beat and finally break the silence. “Is there something you want to ask me?”
“Can I keep it?” Her voice is little more than a whisper.
“Of course you can, sweetie. I’ll leave it here to dry, and you can take it home with you later.”
I envision her hugging me and saying thank you. She doesn’t. Instead she offers me a small smile.
Poker-faced, Seth stands in the open doorway.
“Ellie, Daddy’s here,” I say, getting to my feet.
Seth’s quiet as we get our shoes on, and even quieter when we get into his work van. Ellie and I wait for him to join us. I prepared a packed lunch which, amongst other things, Seth is trying to ram into a black rucksack. He holds it up triumphantly when the zipper is finally closed.
The van dips as he climbs in to join us. “Finally,” he says, tossing me the bag.
I’ve never really looked at his profile before. His face is a mix of angles and sharp edges, his skin bronzed from the sun. My gaze moves down to his broad shoulders. His arms appear even more muscular in the white t-shirt he’s changed into for the beach.
Ellie leans forwards, blocking my view. Her car seat is in the middle, and, reaching between us, he grabs her seat belt and straps her in.
He sits taller in his seat as if switching to dad mode. “All aboard?”
I salute him. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Ellie’s little legs begin swinging to and fro in her seat and she hums quietly to herself.
We reverse off the drive. It isn’t long before we leave Chestnut Avenue behind. Seth heads for the long windy country lanes that take us to the beach. Houses are soon replaced by green leafy trees.
Once we pass the signpost for the beach, Seth parks on the street not far from the beachfront. I unbuckle my belt, open the door and slide out of my seat.
“Be back in a second,” I say. Holding the hem of my dress, I run across the road and into a shop designed to look like a wooden beach hut. I pick up a bucket and spade and a selection of plastic sea creatures.
Jogging back to the van, I see Ellie leaning against the bonnet. I crouch down in front of her. “Here, a little something for you.”
Our gaze meets momentarily as I hold the bag out for her. She looks away, so I pass the bag to Seth.
“Thanks, Daddy,” she squeaks. The bag rattles as she snatches it from him. I like this side of her, the cheeky, disobedient side. Maybe because it’s something I was too scared to be.
My parents were married to their work. They spent a majority of my early years overseas. In their absence I attended a private boarding school. I was the perfect child in the eyes of high society—that was until my parents retired, my grandparents passed away and Cole returned home. Those three events were pivotal and served as a domino effect leading me to where I am today.
“Now be a good girl and thank Lizzie,” Seth says, lifting Ellie’s chin. Ellie half-smiles then skips around her dad.
He looks at me, almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Lizzie.”
I smile. “It’s fine.”
Seth slips an arm around my shoulders. “No, it’s not fine. I will be having words with my daughter later. But for now, I’ll say it for her. Thank you.”
I can feel my face heat up and hope I’m not blushing. “Can’t go to the beach without a good old bucket and spade, now can we?”
He doesn’t answer, instead he gazes at his arm which is still draped around my shoulders. I smile away my disappointment as he withdraws his arm.
Crouching down, he mimics a runner about to start a race. “Last one on the sand is a rotten egg.” The black rucksack bounces up and down on his back as he runs in front.
“Wait up,” Ellie yells, panic in her voice. We run as fast as we can until our feet sink in the golden sand. It’s a scorcher today. The air is hot and muggy. I thank God for the fat clouds in the sky that occasionally block the sun’s overpowering heat.
Ellie pants with her hands on her hips as she follows her dad’s footsteps in the sand. Cute.
Seth isn’t far in front; he stops when he finds a quiet spot for us to sit. The rucksack is open and he’s laying the picnic blanket out.
Standing straight, he pulls the t-shirt over his head. Oh, my God, he’s topless. His body is even better than I imagined—defined pecs, strong biceps.
He points to the blanket; Ellie sits whilst he coats her in sun lotion.
“What now, Daddy?”
Seth strokes his hand over his beard. “You remember the beach, don’t you, sweetheart?”
She shakes her head. I swallow a lump in my throat. I remember Seth telling me the beach was the last place Ellie went with her mum. If she can’t remember the beach, I wonder if she can remember the woman who brought her into the world.
He bends down and kicks his trainers off. “Shoes off, the sea has our name written all over it.”
Ellie doesn’t say anything, but she’s squinting towards the water. I figure she’s taken his words literally. She jumps up when Seth begins walking towards the sea.
Dodging between people, we amble to the water’s edge where small waves creep towards our feet. Grabbing my and Ellie’s hands, Seth yells, “One, two, three, jump.”
The three of us jump over the waves. Seth smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s in this moment I can see he’s happy, but he’s mentally drained. I guess drained from the long workdays, and, dare I say, drained from having to switch into dad mode the second he’s home. It must be so hard being a single parent. I feel the need to step in and lessen the burden, if only for a few short minutes.
I pull my hand free and begin to gallop. I can see Seth’s growing amusement. Well, I’ve committed to looking like a complete tosser, may as well own it. “You know, when we were kids, me and my brother used to pretend the waves were white horses.”
Seth bites back a grin. “You did?”
Ignoring his comment, I turn to Ellie. “Come on, ride with me. Giddy up, giddy up.”
My hands exten
d as though I’m holding the reins of a horse. Ellie’s mouth drops wide before transforming into a smile. Her eyes sparkle with interest, and her jumps become gallops. She’s playing my game.
Seth stands like a statue; from his expression I’d say he’s lost for words.
I swat his arm. “Want to play horsey?”
He deadpans, “Depends who’s going to be riding me.”
I stop galloping and gaze up into his eyes. “I’m sorry, what? I think I misheard you.”
“You didn’t,” he says without humour. He waits a beat before wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “I’m messing with you.”
He pulls me into him, my head pressed against his bare chest. As expected, his chest is firm, damp from sweat, salty from the spray of sea water, and Jesus, my body is reacting. Butterflies don’t dance, they cartwheel in my stomach, and the electricity I feel from his touch travels right to my core.
“Can we get some shells, please, Daddy?”
I look up at Seth. God, don’t let me go, don’t ever let me go.
He releases me. My make-believe butterflies stop flying in an instant. Their wings, like my silly imaginings, turn to dust.
Still playing horsey, Ellie canters to the beach. We pluck shells of all shapes and sizes from the wet sand and drop them into her bucket. Little by little I can see her confidence grow. It’s like watching a caged bird being released for the first time—she hovers between safety and freedom. I see a bird who desperately wants to be free, free from the restraints of anxiety. I’m sure she’ll get there, and the little bird will spread her wings and fly.
Her tongue pokes out of her mouth as she examines the shells like they’re diamonds. “Daddy, they’re so pretty. I love the seaside.”
Seth stalks up from behind me and squeezes my waist. His breath warms the side of my face. “Thank you,” he whispers.
He’s so close, so close I’m scared to move, scared to breathe. I turn my head and our noses almost touch. Touching is something we’re doing a lot more of. Is it possible for our friendship to develop to the next level without either of us realising? Can touching one another become the norm? I decide to test out my theory. With his hands still on my waist, I cross my arms over my stomach and lace my fingers with his. “For what?”
He squeezes my fingers. “For somehow getting my daughter to stick paper to a fucking fish. For getting her to pretend to be a horse. For getting her to pick shells. For getting her to agree to come to the beach. You don’t get it, do you? She’s never opened up to anyone other than me and my sisters. As small and insignificant as it may sound, in Ellie’s world, it’s huge.” He releases my waist and motions in her direction. “Just look at her. The last time I saw her this happy was when…”
He pauses for a beat, the words seemingly too hard to admit. His face is more drawn than seconds ago. I can feel his pain, like a fresh wound, raw and deep.
I squeeze his hand softly. “She’s happy now, which is the main thing. Always look forward, Seth, never back. The past is quicksand, waiting to pull you down, don’t let it.”
He raises a brow. “Oh, yeah? When did you get all wise?”
I take a sharp breath in. “When I grew up, and I did.”
I can see him ponder my words, and the added ambiguity. I know part of him will always see me as that little girl from all those years ago. I want him to open his eyes and see me as a woman.
We follow Ellie along the beach, Seth’s index finger linked with mine. The beauty of it is he doesn’t even realise. He’s so engrossed watching his daughter pick shells that he didn’t even flinch when my finger sought his out.
Ellie turns to face us. “I’m hungry, can we eat now?”
Seth looks at me and I nod. We each take one of Ellie’s hands and make our way back to our picnic blanket. To the outside world we must look like a family, me the young mum, Seth the hot dad, and our daughter. For a moment I allow myself to stay in that fantasy, only letting go of it when we break apart.
Ellie runs to our picnic blanket and pulls out the lunch I prepared and packed earlier. Seth coats her with lotion again before we tuck into the food. As soon as she finishes eating, she scrambles onto the sand, dragging her bucket behind her. “I’m making a castle.”
I’m about to join her when Seth takes hold of my arm. He waves the sun lotion bottle in the air. “Don’t think you’re getting away. Get your ass over here.”
Seth pulls me back so I’m sitting between his legs. I tremble as he brushes my hair to the side. His warm creamy fingers circle my neck, working down my shoulders. I lean back and close my eyes.
Every muscle, every nerve ending tingles whenever he’s near. I’ve got no idea how to make it stop, though deep down I don’t want it to.
Seth
I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into me today; I can’t keep my hands off Lizzie. Every time she’s close, I want her closer.
All I can see is her with my daughter. The two of them making that goddamn mosaic earlier. It was as though Lizzie drove over in her bulldozer and destroyed one of the walls I had built around my heart, leaving me open and vulnerable.
My heart feels heavy in my chest. It hurts, but in a good way. My daughter, my Ellie has finally opened up to someone. For a moment, it was like looking at Ellie and her mother, or rather where her mother should have been. It felt good having another person there, but Lizzie isn’t Ellie’s mum, she isn’t my girlfriend and she never will be.
Lizzie’s a friend, just a friend. Our relationship is one hundred—no, a million percent platonic. But then friends don’t have an erection the size of the Eiffel Tower when the other friend is near.
Damn it.
I keep reminding myself that my body’s reaction to her is perfectly normal. I’m a guy who hasn’t had sex since forever. She’s a beautiful young woman wearing a knee-length black dress that occasionally flies up a little when the wind blows.
Fuck.
Lizzie turns and takes the lotion from my hands. “Your turn.”
There is no way I can have her touch me, not now. I’ll come in my pants like a goddamn teenager.
I snatch the tube. “No. I’m good, I put plenty on earlier.”
Her expressions dulls. “Oh, okay. In that case, I’ll help Ellie with her sandcastle.”
With my ass rooted to the spot, I sit and look at anything and everything that isn’t Lizzie. The sea, the sand, the sky, everything that is nonsexual. By this point I can feel my back starting to burn under the thirty-degree heat. I reach for my t-shirt and pull it on.
My gaze falls on Ellie, who’s building a sandcastle, and I steal a glance at Lizzie. She jumps up to retrieve a stick my daughter is pointing at, I presume to make a flag to put at the top of their fortress.
It’s as though the gods are listening to the war raging in my mind, and on cue they blow with all their might. Sand blows in every direction. Ellie covers her eyes with her hands. Lizzie’s little black number whooshes up. For a split second her red lacy knickers are on show. Lucky me, I get a front-row seat. The red lace fits snugly between the globes of her behind, and I picture how her ass would look with those lacy panties pulled all the way down. She grabs the hem of the dress and quickly pulls it down, covering up her modesty.
Two things I realise in this moment:
1) I really, really, really need to get laid.
2) I’ve got to put the brakes on with Lizzie. All this touchy-feely shit isn’t good for my head, and it certainly isn’t good for my dick.
I’m feeling…
Shit. I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling for her.
Another week. Another week and she’ll be out of our lives for good. She’s a client, nothing more, nothing less. It’s about time I started acting like a professional. The saying is right, you can’t mix business with pleasure.
Red-faced, Lizzie scampers over to me, sitting at my side. “Oh, my God. Did you see that?”
Yes, everyone on the whole fucking beach saw.
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br /> I frown, readjusting the waistband of my shorts. “See what?” I inch away, looking straight in front at the ocean. In my periphery I can see her yanking at her dress to get the limited material to cover her knees.
“Oh, nothing.” She too stares out to the ocean, as though we’re two people sitting together admiring the view, only we’re not together. She reaches for my hand.
I look down. What the hell is this? I dig my fingers into the picnic blanket. I’d be a total dick to pull away, I’d be guilty of giving her mixed messages. It’s clear we can’t be friends, not the touchy-feely type anyway. I glance down at the watch I’m not wearing and jump up. “Is that the time? Come on, Ellie, time to go.”
Ellie’s little shoulders drop. Throwing her head back, she starts kicking the sandcastle. “Noooooo.”
“Daddy’s got to get back to work.”
When there’s no visible trace that her sandcastle ever existed, she stands. “But Daddy,” she whines.
With my back toward her I open the rucksack, tossing our things inside. “We’re leaving.” My voice is authoritative. She needs to know that when I say something, I mean it.
She begins to stamp her feet and protest, loudly. I refuse to succumb to her tantrum, so don’t even acknowledge her until she’s calmed down. I know people are staring, but to hell with them. I turn my back on Ellie and make my way to the van. It takes her exactly five seconds to stop whining before she runs to catch up. Her hand is in my hand before I know it and together we walk along the pavement.
Lizzie smiles and I look away. I don’t intentionally give her the cold shoulder, but I purposely put space between us. She must feel the sudden chill in the atmosphere as she doesn’t attempt to close the space, nor does she attempt to hold my hand.
I unlock my van and Lizzie slides in. Ellie hops in the driver’s side and I fasten her belt.
“I’ve had a nice day,” Lizzie says as I push the key into the ignition.
I slide the gear into first. “Yeah, me too.”
Ellie bounces up and down in her booster. “Me three.”
My back stings like a motherfucker as we make our way back to Lizzie’s house. Every time I move, it feels as though my skin is tearing. By the time we pull up on her driveway I’m visibly shaking.
