Chapter Three

Emmie pulled onto the driveway of the small beach house she’d rented for the summer. Her home for the next three months. Away from prying eyes of the press. Away from the fake grief of her parents. Jacoby’s death tore apart the fragile threads between her and them.

When they had ordered her to talk about Jacoby on talk shows and interviews, she had declined. Refusing to turn his memory into some kind of sounding board which promoted their own agendas, garnering sympathy and pity, as well as donations for their pet projects. It made her sick to her stomach. It had been the last straw. Packing up her stuff, she’d moved out of her parents’ palatial house but it hadn’t been far enough. Maybe Anchorridge Cove was her salvation. At least she had three months to figure out the next step in her life.

Grabbing her overnight bag and purse, she exited her vehicle, inhaling the salty air into her lungs. The crash of the waves were soothing sounds that beckoned like a siren’s call. In that moment, she knew this was exactly where she needed to be. To heal. To remember without crying. To honor her brother’s memory, instead of stripping it. He would’ve been so proud of her for leaving the toxic environment of their childhood home. Neither she nor Jacoby had the courage to walk away, but his death changed everything.

It changed her on a fundamental level.

Punching in the code to the door, she entered the small cottage. The charming décor brought a smile to her face. Everything was pure white, with pops of bold blues and warm reds scattered around the comfortable interior. Coral terracotta tiles lined the floor in the kitchen, matching the ones in the bathroom. Two bedrooms, with the master having French doors that opened to the beach. Stepping onto the deck she became mesmerized with the vast ocean that stretched into eternity. As deadly as it was breathtaking. She wanted to let the water take her away. Drown out the sadness that clung to her bones like an albatross.

She headed back inside and closed the French doors, making her way to the kitchen. Everything was updated and modern, with white granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. Emmie knew how to boil water and heat up things in the microwave, but she was determined to learn how to cook, and had trusty old YouTube there to teach her. Which meant she needed groceries. Grabbing her purse, she locked up and went back to her car to head into the quaint picturesque town.

Tourist season hadn’t quite started, so the streets weren’t too overly crowded. From research, she knew a boat race was set to run in two weeks, which was the official opening of the summer in Anchorridge Cove. The only boat she’d ever been on was the yacht her father owned.

Parking at the grocery store, she locked up and headed inside. She pulled up the list she’d made and started shopping, quickly realizing it wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought. How many different types of pasta brands were there? And why? What cut of meat was the best? Who the hell invented all the spices?

She was rapidly losing patience, and the urge to give up was strong. Then Jacoby would flash across her mind, and her determination resurged. This was the beginning of her new life. The jumping-off point to be something more than an empty socialite, and she had a lot to learn about herself. So, she Googled everything that caught her eye, and two hours later walked confidently back to her car with several bags of food.

As she drove back to her temporary home, she couldn’t help but feel pride she accomplished something mundane. Might sound pretentious, but she’d never even picked out fruit. Or bought fast food. Or had to put groceries away. Or wash clothes. There was a lot she had to learn, and she’d get there.

Once evening fell, she wrapped a blanket around herself and walked down the beach. Brine scented the air, and a cool breeze chilled her face. The moon reflected on the hypnotic waves crashing onto the shore. Time became endless. She could’ve been out there for half an hour, an hour, or forever. Jacoby was never far from her thoughts, and once more tears welled in her eyes. How was she supposed to move on? When would the pain lessen? Questions she may never get answers to. When her teeth began to chatter, she turned to go back inside.

Only then did she see a lone figure in the same pose she’d been standing, staring out into the vast ocean. Contemplating. Reflecting. A man she guessed by his silhouetted stance. She should’ve been scared that they were the only two people around, but something about the droop in his shoulders told her he was grieving too. For some strange reason, his presence gave her a modicum of comfort. Proving true the old saying, “misery loves company.”

For one moment, they were only two people in the world, sharing a beach. Attempting to move past heartbreak. It made Emmie glad she wasn’t totally alone in her grief.