Page 40 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

“Taylor. For the love of God, put your phone down.”

Taylor blinked and looked up, caught in the act like a teenager texting under the dinner table. Shane was grinning at him across the weathered wooden centre table, his eyes full of mischief.

“Sorry,” Taylor murmured, his tone sheepish. “I was only checking for a message from?—”

“David. Yes, yes, we know.” Jason rolled his eyes theatrically, and Mikey gave an exaggerated sigh while Eric chuckled into his coffee.

Taylor’s cheeks heated up. “Am I that obvious?”

Four heads nodded in perfect unison. “Painfully,” Jason added with mock solemnity, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Taylor groaned, laughing despite himself. “Fine. Guilty. I miss him, okay?”

Eric leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “He still hasn’t said when he’s coming back?”

Taylor hesitated, then sighed. “Not exactly. He says it’s soon. Closer, anyway. They’re almost done hammering out the details of the Amazon deal.”

“I thought that was already done before he left?” Shane remarked.

Taylor shook his head. “That TV report? That was a leak. Someone let slip that Amazon were interested.” He chuckled. “I bet a few heads rolled after that.”

“And how long has it been since he left?” Mikey asked.

Taylor didn’t even blink. “Four weeks, three days and—” he checked his watch “—thirteen hours.”

Mikey snorted. “Not counting the minutes and seconds?”

This time, Taylor laughed along with them, but there was a quiet ache lodged in his chest.

It had been there for four weeks, three days, and thirteen hours.

“You’ve been a bit of a lovesick puppy, mate,” Shane teased gently. “But to be fair, it’s kind of endearing.”

Taylor rolled his eyes, but his grin lingered.

Around them, the late October wind tugged at the sleeves of jackets and scarves, slipping cold fingers under collars.

The Beach Shack’s outdoor seating was nearly deserted, the sea beyond cast in moody greys and silvers.

Tomorrow was November, and today the café would close for the season.

It wasn’t busy, but in the half hour since Taylor and his friends had arrived, there’d been a steady stream of people popping in to say goodbye to Andy and the crew until March when the café would reopen.

Movement caught the corner of his eyes, and he jerked his head toward it.

It wasn’t David, but it was a couple of familiar faces.

Taylor raised his hand in greeting. “Hey. Wanna join us?”

Mark and Sam came over, smiling. “I thought you might be here, last day of the season and all that.” Mark dragged two chairs across from a nearby empty table, and the others squeezed up to give them room.

Sam gave everyone a warm glance. “I recognize you guys. Ryde High, right?” Nods greeted him, and he smiled. “So are you all doing anything tonight?”

Taylor blinked. “Damn, I knew I’d forgotten to send you a message. I’m having a Halloween party at the house, and you’re invited.”

Mark’s eyes lit up. “Can we come in costume?”

Taylor snorted. “Well, duh. It’s Halloween.”

“Thanks, we’d love to.” Sam beamed. “Can we bring anything?”

“A bottle if you feel inclined, but otherwise, just yourselves,” Taylor told them. “There’s enough food in the fridge to feed an army, so we won’t go hungry.”

And planning a party helped keep his mind off David.

Not for long, though.

Richard walked over to another table, two steaming mugs in hand.

He offered Taylor a kind nod, one that held unspoken understanding.

Taylor smiled back. Since that awful day weeks ago, when everything had nearly unravelled, Richard had quietly become one of the people Taylor trusted most. On days when there were few customers at the café, he and Richard sat and chatted.

Richard didn’t seem to mind if the topic of conversation kept coming back to a certain writer.

“So…” Shane wrapped both hands around his mug of hot chocolate, the marshmallow pieces spreading their colours through the whipped cream that topped it. “What’s the plan? Once David’s back, how long can he stay before all the immigration stuff kicks in?”

“He’s got a visa,” Taylor replied. Then he winced.

“I’ll be honest. I was so focused on when he’d get back, I didn’t pay much attention to the fine print.

” He ran a hand through his hair. “But he says things are finally falling into place. The publishing deal’s done.

Amazon’s bought the rights. He’s in a good position now. ”

We’re in a good position, he corrected silently. Sometimes it still didn’t feel real. David Hannon, aka James Blanchette, was actually building a life with him.

Jason leaned in with a sly grin. “Is your mum planning some epic ‘welcome home’ party? I assume she’s already colour-coded the guest list.”

Taylor groaned. “Don’t remind me. She and Dad have gone into full event-planning mode. I told them David might need a few quiet days to settle back in, but…” He shrugged. “They’re excited, Dad especially.”

“I heard about the WhatsApp video call.” Jason coughed discreetly into his hand.

Taylor turned a sharp look on Shane. “And how would he know about that, exactly?”

Shane’s cheeks turned a guilty shade of pink.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Thought so.” He addressed the others around the circular table, the biggest in the café. “My dad gave David the full ‘what are your intentions toward my son’ routine.”

Everyone laughed, including Taylor.

At least Dad knows it’s serious between us.

“And how’s the writing going?” Mikey asked once the chuckling had died down. “Has David finished anything since he’s been back in the States?”

Taylor brightened. “He’s halfway through another Blanchette thriller, but the big news is—he finished the gay romance.”

That earned him some raised eyebrows.

“He’s submitted it to a publisher in New York. Under his real name,” Taylor added, lowering his voice as if it was a state secret. “He figured the world wasn’t quite ready for James Blanchette to come out just yet.”

Mikey grinned. “You think he’ll be successful?”

Taylor shrugged, but he was smiling. “He’s a brilliant writer. Whether it’s crime or romance, I think people will respond. It’ll be interesting to see what happens when it’s David Hannon on the cover instead of Blanchette.”

“Wait a sec.” Mark’s eyes widened. “Your David is James Blanchette ?”

Taylor chuckled. “Surprise.” He hadn’t shared that snippet of information the four or five times he’d met up with Mark and Sam at the café during the past weeks.

Sam gasped. “Do you think he’d sign my copies of his books?”

Shane laughed. “There you go, Taylor. Next season you should organise a book signing day here at the café. I bet Andy would go for it.”

Mikey raised his mug. “To David Hannon.”

“Cheers to that,” Jason echoed.

“And let’s not forget he’s not the only writer in the relationship,” Shane chimed in, nudging Taylor’s foot under the table.

Taylor groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

It had taken months of coaxing, but David had finally convinced Taylor to submit his poetry to a small publisher in New York. They were still waiting to hear back. Taylor tried not to dwell on it too much, but every time his phone buzzed, a small part of him hoped.

“He says if this one says no, he has five more lined up,” Taylor admitted. “He made me a spreadsheet.” He shook his head, but his smile was fond.

“You’ve got guts,” Eric said. “Putting your words out into the world like that.”

Taylor looked down at his phone again, the screen still blank. “I figured if I could love someone like him, maybe I could start believing in myself, too.”

As the wind picked up again, rattling the empty chairs around them, his phone buzzed.

Taylor’s heart jumped.

David.

He tapped to open the message, unable to restrain his grin.

On my way home. Can’t wait to see you. Save me a seat at the Shack.

Taylor looked up at his friends, his cheeks hot.

“He’s coming back.”

The cold didn’t matter anymore.

They drank in silence, and the incoming tide provided the perfect soundtrack as waves crashed onto the shingled beach below the café wall.

Taylor tried not to stare at his phone— a watched pot, remember?

His grandmother’s saying had never been more relevant—but damn, it was as if invisible threads kept tugging at his head, returning his gaze to that small screen.

When his phone warbled, Taylor lunged for it as though it was a burger and he was starving.

Eric laughed. “So keen. Wonder if they’ll still be like this after ten years together.”

Jason gave a small, wistful smile. “Knowing these two? They’ll still be like this when they’re pensioners.”

Taylor blinked. “That’s… actually kind of lovely, Jase.”

Jason blushed and shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Taylor opened the message and read it with a smile. His heart felt full and aching all at once.

“Well? What’s lover boy said this time?” Eric demanded. “You know you want to tell us.”

Taylor didn’t even try to hide his grin. “Just says, Miss you, babe. ” The warmth in his chest flared as he typed quickly: When can you be here?

The reply came almost immediately. Sooner than you think.

His pulse quickened. Yeah, but now isn’t soon enough.

He tapped his thumbs on the screen. Can’t wait to see you.

He hugged the phone to his chest. Despite nightly video calls, he missed David’s touch, his presence, his scent, the way his smile tilted more on one side when he was truly happy. He missed him with his entire being.

Taylor typed again. *Really* can’t wait to see you.

The next message arrived. Then turn around.

Taylor stared at it in confusion before typing What? His phone chimed again.

Taylor. Behind you.

His breath caught. For a moment, the world seemed to still. Slowly, he turned—and time stopped.