Chapter Five

Peyton

Sunrise at the Cove was something that I'd forgotten.

I wasn't entirely certain how I could've neglected to recall how much I loved rising early and watching the first rays of sunlight race over the churning gray water, turning the waves blue as they stretched and brightened. I used to come down here all the time growing up; some of my earliest memories placed me right here on the sand, holding my father's hand as we waited to watch the sun come up.

"Hold your breath, Peyton," he would whisper to me. "Now blow?—"

And as I'd release that breath, the sun would suddenly appear over the horizon. For some time, I'd believed that I was the one actually making it happen. My dad would carry me to the beach from our house on weekend mornings because I was an early riser, and he wanted to let my mother sleep in.

I'd forgotten that, too.

In the haze of pain that had surrounded my abrupt departure from the Cove all those years ago, I'd forced myself to push aside those sweet memories of my parents. I had chosen to only think of the last hurtful words, of the threats and ultimatums thrown at me in the wake of me telling them that I was pregnant.

But once upon a time, my father had held my hand on this beach and let me believe that I controlled the movement of the sun. And once upon a time, my mother would welcome us home with our sandy feet and salt-kissed skin, ushering us to a table laden with pancakes and bacon and orange juice. I could see it now as clearly as if I sat there still in the special chair my dad had made for me, a bib carefully tucked around my neck, watching my dad steal a kiss from my mother as she giggled and pretended to dart away.

I had grown up surrounded by love, raised by parents who adored me. It had only been later, in my teen years, that my father had grown more silent. I wondered now if he had been mystified about how to interact with a daughter who was turning into a young woman; maybe I had been easier as a child. My mother, on the other hand, saw in me a second chance to enjoy high school, and she had loved that I was Ryan Harvey's girlfriend.

In my junior year of high school, when I'd told her in halting, unsure words that I didn't know if I wanted to continue dating Ryan, she had been shocked. She'd rolled her eyes at my concerns, telling me that breaking up with Ryan would ruin my reputation at school and threaten my status. I could have done it anyway; my mother wouldn't have liked it, but I could have done it.

But making my mom happy was important to me, and to be honest, as I only could be now, three and a half decades later, I didn't want to lose my identity as the girlfriend of Ryan Harvey. Deep down, I already realized that I didn't like him. I cringed when he bullied others, or when Ryan and his friends picked on classmates or acted like morons. We couldn't have an intelligent conversation, not like the long and satisfying talks I had with Nash Sampson.

Nash.

Thinking about him now, the sun beginning to bathe my face, I closed my eyes and let the shame and guilt roll over my body. Last night, when he'd looked at me with so much hurt in his eyes, I'd wanted to die.

"You left. You didn't even call me, or leave a message, or tell me why or where you were going—you just left."

"I loved you with all of my eighteen-year-old soul, and you broke my heart."

Nash hadn't said anything that I hadn't already known. Even as I rode out of town on the morning of graduation, curled up in the backseat of the Harveys' BMW, I had been fully aware that Nash would be devastated by my departure. It had hurt me as well, but on that day, in that moment, I'd had my hands full worrying about myself and the fragile life I carried within me. I couldn't bear to take on responsibility for Nash's feelings, too.

The truth was that I had loved him, too. What was between us in those days hadn't been anything like the hot burn of attraction I'd experienced when I'd met Ryan, nor had it offered me the added benefit of popularity, being one half of the most enviable couple at Crystal Cove High.

No, with Nash, everything had happened slowly. I became aware of him when he'd answered questions in classes we shared during freshman year. He'd made me laugh and made me think. By the time we sat next to each other in tenth grade Honors English, I knew how intelligent and sweet Nash could be. We'd worked together on projects, and to my surprise, he didn't agree to do all the work, the way other boys might have. No, Nash expected me to pull my weight and then some.

Thinking about it now, maybe that was what had attracted me to him. Nash recognized and honored my mind. I'd caught him gazing at me with admiration often enough to realize that he also found me physically appealing, but there wasn't any doubt that he was also drawn to my ability to counter his arguments and disagree with his conclusions. I remembered coming home exhilarated after a study session with Nash, on fire in a way that I never was with Ryan.

I let myself wonder now what might have happened if I'd been brave enough in those days to break up with Ryan. Would Nash have made a move? Would we have ended up together? Might my life have turned out to be so very different than it was?

"I thought I might find you here."

Even in the early morning stillness, Nash's voice didn't startle me. It was as though somehow, part of me deep inside knew he was approaching and was prepared to hear his voice.

"It's been a long time, but the beach has always been my happy place. Always will be, I guess." I wrapped my arms around myself and glanced at him over my shoulder. "I'm probably too old to change my ways now."

To my relief, Nash chuckled softly. I had been half-afraid that he'd come to the beach to continue berating me, to demand an explanation for what had happened—or not happened—so long ago, but instead, he seemed content to stand next to me and gaze across the sea at the pink sky.

"We're not so old," he replied. "At least, I don't feel that way most of the time. When I looked at you last night, it didn't seem that I could be much past eighteen."

"You don't look very different," I admitted. "I would have known you anywhere." I rubbed my hands over my arms as though I was chilly, even though it had to be almost eighty out here already. "I think I've probably changed quite a bit, though. I feel as though I have."

"You're still fucking beautiful, Peyton." Nash's voice quivered with emotion. "You still are, and always will be, the most gorgeous girl at Crystal Cove High."

"But I'm not a girl anymore." I dropped my hands and turned to face Nash. "Even my daughter is not really a girl anymore—she's a grown up, confident thirty-four-year old woman."

Nash's breath caught. "You had a girl, then."

I nodded. "I did. And she is perfect and beautiful and smart and funny in all of the ways a mother could hope her daughter would be."

"I'm happy for you." His voice was thick. "Happy that it worked out."

I huffed out a short laugh. "I'm not sure that anything worked out for me, Nash. Not in the short-term anyway." I dug my toes into the cool sand and pointed down the beach. "Want to walk with me? I was going to check out my old hidey hole and see if it's still there."

He hesitated only a second before nodding.

"Sure. A walk on the beach sounds perfect."

We began to move slowly, our arms dangling between us. I didn't have any plan to tell Nash the truth—all of my truth—but I found myself speaking anyway.

"I didn't lie to you, Nash. Not that last day here on the beach, or any other time, either. I planned to do exactly what we'd agreed. I was going to go home and get through graduation, and then I thought we'd do what we said—tell our parents that we were having a baby. Start to plan a wedding. Move to Georgia and start our lives."

I didn't miss the wince of pain on Nash's face, but I soldiered on.

"But that day, I got home, and my mother was waiting for me. She had heard through the Cove grapevine that Ryan and I had broken up, and she was very upset. She asked me what I'd done to make him end things between us, and I—well, you know, I was pretty emotional. So it all spilled out—that I was pregnant and he didn't want anything to do with me or the baby."

"Fucking prick."

I slid Nash a sideways glance. "Not going to disagree. Anyway, then my father got home and figured out what was happening—and he took my mother's side. They told me that I needed to talk to Ryan and figure out what we were going to do, and that I shouldn't bother coming home unless I had a wedding ring on my finger—or at least a plan about getting one on my hand."

"Jesus, Peyton." He shook his head, squinting out at the ocean. "Did you tell your parents that you weren't alone? That we were going to get married?"

I sighed. "I tried, but you don't know my mother. She only heard what she wanted to hear, and she—well, she was always so obsessed with status. She wanted Ryan to be my future. I think she figured that I'd go over to his house, we'd work it out, and everyone would live happily ever after."

"Why didn't you come to me when they threw you out?" He sounded so pained, so tired, and I felt compelled to defend myself.

"Well, it wasn't exactly turning out the way we'd planned, was it? We weren't going to have my parents' support, and I—I was ashamed. Embarrassed." I leaned down to pick up a shell, examining it without really seeing it. "I thought about showing up at your house and having to explain to your parents that I was pregnant—and hell, Nash, you knew that no one was going to believe you were the father. We'd never dated, we'd never even hung out together, aside from studying. I couldn't stand the idea of ruining your life, too. So I went to Ryan's house instead."

"Because you were okay with ruining his life?" Nash asked grimly.

"No, although he was equally to blame for my situation. I went to his house because I didn't have anywhere else to go. I thought about Aunt Maggie and Uncle Joe, but I couldn't face them. I knew—" Tears clogged my throat. "I knew disappointing them would be worse than my parents, even. We were so close back then, and they used to brag about me being smart and going to college—I just couldn't take it." I coughed, took a moment to gather myself, and then went on. "When I got to Ryan's house, he didn't want to let me inside. He made me stand outside on the back porch, and he just humiliated me. I was about to leave when his mother came home, and she asked what was going on, and then it all just sort of . . . came out. When Peg heard what was going on, she was furious with Ryan. She was already plenty mad about the liquor store situation that was making them move to North Carolina, and this pushed her over the edge."

"You can't blame her for that."

"No," I agreed. "Peg loved her son. She really did, but by that night, she already knew he was heading down a bad path. When Ryan's dad got home, they decided not to wait until after graduation. They were afraid that Ryan would run or get into more trouble or both. So we spent that entire night packing up what they could, and early the next morning, we left the Cove and drove north."

"That must have been hard for you. Missing graduation. Leaving your parents and your friends." Nash's words were careful and measured.

"I was . . . numb. Terrified. But Peg was so good to me. She protected me, listened to me—she took care of me once we were in North Carolina. We found a doctor, and I helped her unpack the new house and set up everything. For a while, I thought everything was going to be all right. Peg was excited about the baby—I mean, it wasn't what she had planned, but as she told me, a baby is a blessing at any time."

Nash nodded. "And you and—and Ryan got married?"

"No." I stopped walking and pivoted to face the ocean, letting the waves brush over my feet. "No, I never married Ryan. About a month after we moved to North Carolina, he was pulled over for driving drunk, and when the policeman who stopped him turned his back for a moment, Ryan knocked him down, jumped into his cruiser, and ran him over."

"Peyton." Nash stared at me, aghast. "You've got to be kidding. He hit a policeman?"

"Yeah. And then he kept running. They found the cruiser abandoned about twenty-five miles away, and then he stole another car . . . after they found that one, the trail ran cold. We never saw him again. Every once in a while, Peg will get a call or a postcard or a weird message on the internet, but that's it."

We were both silent for a long moment, with nothing but the waves between us. Finally, Nash spoke again.

"So all this time, you were alone?"

"No." I felt a smile ghost over my face. "No, I was never alone. Peg was stalwart. She made sure I never wanted for anything, and when Charlie was born, she did the same for her." I thought about those long-ago days, marveling that I had survived them. "About a month after Ryan took off, his father had a massive heart attack and died. Peg blamed Ryan, said he'd broken his father's heart, and I couldn't disagree."

"He always was a selfish son of a bitch." Nash bit off the words. "He was never worthy of you, Peyton. Never."

"Not arguing with you, Nash," I responded as lightly as I could manage. "But anyway, after that, it was Peg and me, just the two of us. We stayed in North Carolina until after Charlie was born, and then we moved down to Savannah. Peg's family was there, and she had a yearning to go back to where she'd grown up. She thought it would be the best place to raise Charlie, so that's what we did."

"Your daughter—her name is Charlie?" Nash stuck his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

"Yes. Well, it's actually Charlotte Marguerite, after my grandmother and Peg—her real name is Marguerite —but we've always called her Charlie. It fits."

"Do you have a picture?"

I laughed, the sound carried away on the morning breeze. "Do I have a picture? Well, only about a hundred digital ones." I stopped walking and glanced around. "Oh, look! My hiding place is still here—I was afraid with all of the changes, it might have gotten filled in or covered over or something. Want to sit down?"

Nash hesitated only a second, and suddenly, I remembered that our last conversation had happened here. I opened my mouth to say something—to apologize again, maybe—but Nash began to make his way to the carved out area beneath the cliff. I followed him, and we settled down on the cool, rough rock.

Pulling out my phone, I found my Charlie folder and passed it to Nash. "I scanned a bunch of her baby photos and school pictures so that I can have her whole growing up in one place." I watched over his shoulder as my daughter's beautiful smile filled the screen. "Isn't she perfect?"

"She is. She looks just like you." Nash took his time, studying each shot carefully. "Does she live near you?"

"Oh, yes. Charlie, Peg and I live on the same street in Savannah. Peg still lives in the house where we raised Charlie, and then about ten years ago, I bought a smaller place of my own a few doors down. After Charlie finished law school, she bought a townhouse on the next block. It's a perfect set-up: we're close enough to eat together when we want to, but we all have our own space."

He turned, handing me back my phone, and faced me, his expression solemn. "And you're happy, Peyton?"

I opened my mouth to reply in the affirmative and then hesitated. There was something about Nash—there always had been—that made me want to think about my response and answer him thoughtfully instead of just tossing off what I assumed others expected to hear.

"I'm . . . content, I guess," I said at last. "Considering how I left Crystal Cove and what could have happened to Charlie and me, things worked out well, and I'm very grateful for that. My daughter has never known a moment of insecurity or lack. Even when I was stubborn about accepting help from Peg, I never hesitated to let her do things for her granddaughter."

"And you own a business." Nash snapped his mouth shut and grimaced. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that—but I'll be honest, before I came down here, I confessed to my son and my business partner why I didn't want to attend the reunion. Max—that's my son—he looked you up, and he saw that you own a store in Savannah."

"Oh." I wasn't sure how I felt, knowing that Nash had been thinking about me enough to mention me to his family and friends. "Yes, I do. It started out as a sort of side hustle, something I did to make extra money while I was working other jobs—you know, serving at restaurants, temping at offices, that sort of thing. But it grew until I could actually focus on it full-time, and then not too long after that, I took the plunge to buy a storefront. That was the first time I let Peg give me money that wasn't strictly for Charlie, but I made her a silent partner in the business, too."

"That's wonderful, Peyton. Congratulations."

"Thank you." I felt a little self-conscious and shifted the conversation to Nash. "You said you have a son. Are you . . . married?"

His eyes flashed down at me, a rush of emotion there, and then he shook his head. "No. I was—very briefly. But that's a long story." He paused. "Could I take you to breakfast so we can continue catching up?"

"I wish I could." I felt a genuine fissure of disappointment. "I promised Sheri, Delilah and Emmy that I'd meet them this morning. I think we're spending the day together."

"Oh." My disappointment was echoed in that single syllable.

"But maybe we could link up again later in the day." I fumbled in my pocket for the crumpled paper that showed the day's activities. "Oh, we could go to karaoke tonight!"

"Hell, no." Nash shook his head definitively. "I'm not a karaoke kind of guy."

"Oh, c'mon," I cajoled. "It's all part of the reunion experience. Or so I'm told."

His lip curled. "I didn't want to be here in the first place. I mean, seeing you is wonderful," he rushed to amend. "But I wouldn't have come if it wasn't for—" He broke off and looked away. "Something else."

Now my curiosity was piqued. "What something else?" I inquired. "Someone you wanted to see? Or did you lose a bet?"

"Hardly," Nash retorted. He was silent for a few seconds, a nerve ticking in his cheek. "Okay, but listen, if I tell you, promise you won't breathe a word of this."

"Cross my heart." I made the literal motions of drawing an X on my chest. "My lips are sealed."

He sighed. "I own a sustainable property development company with my business partner, Reggie. There's a deal we need to close for a very ambitious project that would take our company to the next level while at the same time creating a new paradigm for what is possible in green development."

"Okay," I nodded. "I follow you so far."

"We found the perfect property for this project, and the owners are willing to sell, but there is an adjacent parcel of land that we'd have to buy at least part of in order to have the road access we need—and as it turns out, there's also some old agreement between the families who own the two properties that one won't sell without the permission of the other."

I wrinkled my nose. "Weird."

"Right?" Nash rolled his eyes. "We were at stalemate until Reggie intercepted a reunion email and happened to see that Jared Brady was in our class and is supposed to be here at the reunion." He paused. "Jared and his younger sister own that property outside of Burton."

"Jared Brady? That's crazy. Why does he have land in Georgia? He's still living in Florida as far as I know. Emmy mentioned him because they're both on the reunion committee."

Nash stared at me. "You know Jared Brady?"

I shrugged. "Of course, I do. He grew up next door to me here in the Cove."

"You're kidding." His eyes were wide. "Holy shit, maybe Reggie's right about the universe."

I cocked my head. "What does Reggie say about the universe?"

Nash waved one hand. "Doesn't matter. The important thing is, Jared and his sister inherited that property from their grandparents, I guess. I need to talk to Jared this weekend and convince him to sell us a little bit of his land and give permission for the rest of the deal. Can you point him out to me if you see him when I'm around?"

I grinned. "I can do you better than that. I'll introduce you, and I'll help you close the deal."

Nash lifted his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Really. I'd be happy to help, and if you want to know the truth, I'm a demon negotiator. You definitely want me in your corner."

"Definitely," Nash echoed. "Thanks, Peyton. I'd be very grateful."

I narrowed my eyes. "Grateful enough to go to karaoke with me tonight? After all, that's probably the best place for us to start the ball rolling with Jared."

Nash groaned. "I can't believe you're going to drag me to karaoke."

"Well, believe it." I popped my hands on my hips. "It'll be fun, and I'm told that's the whole reason we're here."

"Maybe that's true for you, but it's not for me," he replied darkly. "I'm here to get this business taken care of, and then I'm—" He broke off.

"And then . . . what?" I asked.

"I was planning to leave as soon as I talked with Jared," Nash admitted. "But now . . . maybe I'll go ahead and stay. For tonight at least." He studied me, his face serious. "It isn't every day a guy like me gets to see again the girl he loved hopelessly for so long."

"Nash." I was suddenly serious again, too, and a little sad. "I am so, so sorry that I couldn't find you and explain things back in 1989. I'm sorry that I made promises that it turned out I couldn't keep." I took a breath, fighting a wave of tears. "I'm sorry I broke your heart. Please believe me that it wasn't intentional."

"I do know. I understand now. Or I understand more, I guess." Nash lifted his hand to brush my hair away from my face, and I just barely resisted the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Can you forgive me?" I murmured the question, but I knew he heard me.

"Of course, I forgive you," he answered softly. "In case you didn't know it, Peyton, back then I would've done anything you asked. Seems like maybe things haven't changed that much in thirty-five years."

"Thank you." I felt a bit lighter, and in an odd echo of our last time on the beach together when we were eighteen, I stood on my toes to kiss Nash's cheek. "Now, will you walk with me back to the hotel?"

Standing up, he offered me his arm in true courtly fashion. "Like I said, saying no to you isn't something I seem to be able to do."

I winked at him as we turned to walk across the sand. "Then if I ask you to sing tonight at karaoke?—"

Nash pointed a stern finger at me. "No. It's not happening. That's the line I'm not going to cross, not even for you. Don't bother asking me. I mean it, Peyton. This is not happening."

I didn't say anything else, but a smile curved my lips.

Oh, this was happening.