Authors: Jenny Hale
Never before had she been this honest, this open about her feelings. And she knew she was right. It felt so good to get it out. Jake was a wonderful person. Neither of them knew if it would work out or not, but what was the point if they never tried, if they never took a chance?
An undecipherable thought washed over him. A realization. “Like Key West,” he said, and she didn’t understand what he meant right away. He searched her face as if he were trying to find answers to some perplexing problem. What was he thinking? Then, he leaned in toward her. He put his hands on her face and only broke eye contact when he pressed his lips to hers. His hands progressed from her face to her shoulders and down her back, his lips moving on hers, making her legs feel weak. His hands finally came to rest on her back as he kissed her. She held on to him, her own hands unstill, her chest against his, their breathing matched with one another’s. She’d kissed people in her life, but she’d never had a kiss like this one.
“I wanted to take you to Key West,” he said, his lips still on hers, “just because I thought you’d like it. I wasn’t trying to wow you or anything.”
“I know,” she smiled and kissed him again. “And I loved it.”
He pulled back to look at her. “I want to be with you,” he said, surprising her. “All I think about is you, lately. When I get up in the morning, when I go to bed at night, you are in my thoughts. I wonder what you’re doing when you’re away, and I want you there with me.” He searched her face for answers, but only for a second. As usual, he’d read her mind, her response plastered across her face. She couldn’t stop smiling. He reached down, held her face and pressed his lips to hers. This kiss was different than all the others. It was gentle and urgent at the same time, their lips moving together perfectly. It was the kind of kiss she’d waited for her entire life and never knew existed.
She could feel it. This was a start of something great, and she couldn’t wait to see where it went.
EPILOGUE
Faith pulled her Land Rover into the drive of the cottage and turned off the engine. The SUV had been far fancier than anything Faith had wanted to drive, but Jake had insisted. The two restaurants that he’d bought were making him so much money that he’d wanted to spend some of it on her. In the end, Jake had decided to buy those restaurants, but instead of knocking them down, he’d repaired them, gave the cooking staff upgraded kitchens, and kept them going. Those two restaurants were keeping him quite busy; so busy, he said, that he’d changed his mind about building in Corolla, but Faith knew better. And, her thoughts were confirmed when in the dark one night, while lying next to Faith, he’d whispered in her ear that she’d been right. He’d told her she was right about it all, and he apologized for taking so long to figure it out. He’d fallen in love with the Outer Banks again—
her
Outer Banks.
She opened the back door of the car as Isabella came around the corner. She was twelve now, lean and lanky like her mother had been, her long hair like strands of gold down her back. She had freckles on her nose, her skin already golden from a few days at the cottage. Her fingernails and toes were painted a matching shade of shell pink, and she was wearing lip gloss.
And so it begins
, Faith thought to herself with a smile. It seemed like only yesterday, Casey had been that age, and Faith had looked up to her, wishing she could be like her sister. The difference was that Isabella was quiet, reserved, and a whole lot like Faith. She’d spent quite a bit of time with her aunt, and Faith was so glad to have had the last few years with her. Thinking about how she’d missed so much of the first part of Isabella’s life made her upset, but she’d learned from Nan to pick herself up and keep going.
Nan would’ve loved to have seen what they’d done with the place. Even though they could’ve had a cottage ten times the size of this one, they’d kept it because Nan had bought it for them, and Jake had worked very hard to make it perfect. The porch swing was still hung right where Nan had asked him to hang it, and Jake had done all the upkeep of the cottage, himself. The bookshelves inside that Jake had put in at Nan’s suggestion were now filled with Nan’s photo albums—they’d all brought them back to keep them in one spot—and they’d added a few new ones as well, but Faith’s favorite part of the cottage was just above the rows of albums on the shelf at eye-level where they had Nan’s silver frame with the last photo they’d all taken together at her birthday party. Beside it was the photo of Nan on the beach that Faith had taken, the water glistening behind her. Between the frames, they’d placed some of Nan’s angels. She was among them now, since she’d finally found John. Faith hoped they were watching from above, and every time the family came to the cottage, at least one morning, each week, the sky turned the most gorgeous shades of pink and purple. And in those moments, Faith felt her grandmother just like Nan had felt John.
“Where’s your mama?” Faith asked Isabella as Jake got out of the other side of the Land Rover.
“Inside with Dad and Addison.” Isabella walked over to the open car door and helped Sophie out of the car. Sophie, only six, looked up to her cousin, following her everywhere she went. Sophie had been named after Nan, born a year after Nan had passed. Sophie hopped out of the car after Isabella, her brown curls, the color of Jake’s hair, bouncing around her shoulders.
“I’m going in with Isabella, Daddy,” she said to Jake as she held her cousin’s hand and followed her to the long staircase leading to the front door of the cottage.
“Okay,” he said as he helped Faith get the suitcases out of the back of the car. “Be careful on the way up.”
Every year they met here. Sophie was three years younger than Addison, Scott and Casey’s second child, and, just like Faith and Casey, those two girls couldn’t be more different. Isabella balanced their differences, being older, wiser, and a good mix of the two. The three girls spent two weeks together every summer, and they had built so many memories already.
Nan would’ve been proud. She’d been right about everything. Just like how she’d fell in love with John, Faith could remember falling in love with Jake. It had started on that first day at the cottage, a mutual feeling she felt for him the moment she met him. After she’d left the cottage that summer, he’d driven down to see her more times than she could count until he finally asked her to move in with him. Then one night, while they were curled up under an afghan on the sofa in front of the fire, the snow coming down outside around them, the beach baron and frozen, he’d told her that he loved her. All those moments built, one after another, until one day, she couldn’t imagine life without him, and that was when she knew—when she had a million tiny things that made her love him and miss him whenever he was gone. Just as Nan had said.
Jake had told her once about the moment he suspected she was the one. It had happened the day he’d taken them to the island where Nan thought John had proposed. The story that Nan had told about the man she’d loved had affected Jake. He’d said that he’d never loved anyone like that before, and he wondered if he could love Faith like that. He’d found her attractive and he’d enjoyed her company, but that thought at that moment had taken him by surprise. That wonder had sewn a seed in his mind, and when he realized that he loved her, he always went back to that moment as when he’d pinpoint that he’d fallen for her.
Jake had proposed to Faith on that island. He’d taken her there on the boat he’d helped make for her, her eyes closed at his insistence. He led her down the ladder onto the beach, and when she opened her eyes, every single inch of the dry sand and surrounding woods was covered in tiny, flickering tea light candles, making the beach mirror the stars in the sky. With their flames, the bright white moon, and the stars the only light around them, he’d asked her to marry him. He’d carved their names in a tree, and he promised he’d always show her where it was so she’d never have to speculate like Nan had. She’d worried that a storm would push the island underwater. It wouldn’t take much to do it, given the hurricanes that hit that area. So, they’d taken a photo of the tree, and they’d placed it in one of the photo albums. It would be their reminder of the moment when they’d decided that they were better together.
The last to arrive at the cottage, they climbed the steps and went inside to join their family. The only sound outside was the rush of the tide and the wind. The cottage stood strong against it, the wood still new-looking, the shingles not yet weathered, and inside, was a family—whole and happy, together.
LETTER FROM JENNY
Thank you so much for reading
Summer by the Sea
. I really hope that you enjoyed the story and it gave you a relaxing summer escape - whatever time of year it is.
If you’d like me to drop you an email when my next book is out, you can
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I won't share your e-mail with anyone else, and I'll only e-mail you when a new book is released.
If you did enjoy
Summer by the Sea
, I'd
love
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. Getting feedback from readers is amazing, and it also helps to persuade other readers to pick up one of my books for the first time.
Until next time!
Jenny
PS. If you enjoyed this story, I think you’d also like my other summer novel –
Love Me for Me
.
ALSO BY JENNY HALE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to thank my husband, Justin, who continues to surprise me with creative ways to help me meet my deadlines.
Thank you to Oliver Rhodes for his endless patience, creativity, and guidance. I am so very thankful to have his leadership. I am so happy to be surrounded by the talented Bookouture team.
To my editor, Emily Ruston, I have learned so much from her, and am very grateful to have had the opportunity to work with her.
Published by Bookouture - an imprint of StoryFire Ltd. 23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN, United Kingdom.
Copyright © Jennifer Hale 2014
Jennifer Hale
has asserted her
right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-910751-11-4
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