Page 60

I nod once, because if I try to say anything else right now it might come out wrong. By the time I make my way to the kitchen with Tilly, Peyton has started coffee and set out ingredients for breakfast. We move around each other easily while she cooks. She hands me a bottle without asking. I warm it up. She flips eggs. I get us plates. It’s like a synchronized dance.

Peyton sets food in front of me and leans her hip against the counter with a mug in hand. “So,” she says casually. “I have an idea.”

“That’s always dangerous.”

She ignores me. “It’s supposed to be a beautiful day. Sunny, but not too hot. We could get out of the apartment for a few hours.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’ve never been to Coney Island.”

“You, Miss California, want to go to Coney Island?”

“Yes! Fresh air. Beach. Boardwalk. Asshole seagulls. What a perfect distraction.”

Distraction sounds like exactly what my brain needs. Still, I glance at Tilly. “You think she’ll be okay out there?”

“She’ll love it for sure. We won’t stay too long anyway,” Peyton points out. “We could invite our friends.”

I see the hopeful glint in her eyes. She's trying to coax me out of my own head as gently as she can.

“Let’s do it,” I finally agree.

Her smile is quick and bright. “I’ll text the girls.”

An hour later we’re on our way, armed with enough supplies to survive a small natural disaster—diapers, wipes, extra outfits, snacks, sunscreen and a tiny sun hat for Tills.

Soph and Jax meet us at the boardwalk entrance. Soph spots us first and waves enthusiastically while Jax stands beside her, his arms folded. Then he sees Tilly. The change in his entire body is subtle but unmistakable. His shoulders loosen and his expression softens.

“There’s my girl,” Jax says as we approach.

Soph smiles. “Jax’s been looking at photos of her all morning, telling me how he can’t wait to see her.”

Jax ignores his partner’s comment and leans toward the stroller. Tilly stares up at him with serious concentration. “And I will take plenty more photos today,” he says.

“I know you will, babe. Then you’ll spend the next two weeks showing them to me every day.”

Peyton laughs. “My camera roll is full of Tilly, too.”

The boardwalk is alive with noise and color, the air thick with salt and the smell of fried food as we head towards the beach. Music plays from somewhere. Seagulls circle overhead, waiting for their next meal.

Peyton’s face lights up as we step onto the sand. “This is incredible.”

“Wait until you see it at sunset,” Soph says. “It gets even prettier.”

We find a relatively quiet patch of beach and spread out a blanket. Peyton takes Tilly from the stroller and settles beside me. Jax drops onto their other side, and Peyton lifts the baby so she’s in front of her. She lowers Tilly’s feet until they just brush the sand. Tilly freezes, her whole face going solemn. Then she wiggles her toes experimentally before jerking them back with a startled shriek.

Soph’s taking pictures. “Oh my God, don’t move. This is perfect,” she says.

Peyton dips Tilly’s toes in the sand again, them sinking into the warm ground. Tilly makes a small, indignant noise that has us laughing.

“She hates it,” Peyton sighs and sets the baby on her lap, cleaning her feet.

“She’s only being dramatic,” I reply.

“She gets that from you.”

Jax snorts as Soph circles us, snapping photos from every angle. “These are gold. I’m printing copies for you later.”