Page 28 of The Beach Shack Summer (Laguna Beach #2)
Meg sat in the familiar kitchen, staring at the leftover pizza and trying not to feel ridiculous about the tears that kept threatening. It was just three doors. She’d moved three doors with a toothbrush and commitment issues.
A knock interrupted her pity party. She opened the door to find Luke holding a bottle of wine and wearing that smile that made her stomach flip.
“Housewarming gift?” he offered.
“You already helped me move my vast estate of two suitcases.”
“That was moving. This is checking on you.” He stepped inside, taking in the space. “How are you doing? Really?”
“I’m sitting alone in my old house, eating leftover pizza and talking to a stolen succulent.”
“Herbert’s a good listener?”
“The best.” She found some wine glasses and let Luke pour. “It’s so quiet.”
“Different from Tyler’s chaos?”
“I can’t hear Stella’s music. Or Tyler reorganizing things. Or anyone breathing.” She took a sip of wine. “It’s what I said I wanted.”
“But?”
“But it’s really quiet.”
Luke set down his glass and pulled her into a hug. She let herself lean into him, breathing in his familiar salt-and-sunshine scent.
“You didn’t abandon them,” he said softly. “You gave them room to figure each other out. ”
“I stole their stapler.”
“They’ll survive.” He pulled back enough to look at her. “And you’ll be happier when you can actually work without bathroom acoustics.”
“The acoustics were excellent,” she protested weakly.
“Meg.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “You did the right thing.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m failing them?”
“Because you care. Because change is hard. Because you’ve spent your whole life trying to hold everything together.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But sometimes the best thing you can do is step back.”
She studied his face—the laugh lines, the sun-lightened hair, the steady certainty in his eyes. “When did you get so wise?”
“Ocean time. Very philosophical.” His hand settled at her waist. “Plus, I’ve been watching you try to fix everyone since you came back. Hell, since you were a teenager taking surf lessons.”
“I don’t try to fix?—“
“Meg. You literally reorganized the surf shop while waiting for your lesson once.”
“It was chaos!”
“You were seventeen.”
“A very organized seventeen.”
He laughed, and she felt it rumble through his chest. “I’ve missed you. This version of you.”
“What version?”
“The one who steals staplers and names succulents and creates filing systems for napkins.” His voice went softer. “The one who chose to stay.”
The air shifted between them. Meg was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing, how his hand felt warm through her shirt, how the kitchen light caught gold flecks in his eyes.
“Luke...”
“I know we’ve been taking things slow,” he said.
“And I know everything’s complicated with the move and Stella and the whole family dynamic.
But Meg...” He cupped her face gently. “I’m so damn glad you’re here.
Not just in Laguna. Here, figuring out what you actually want instead of what you think you should want. ”
“What if I don’t know what I want?”
“Then we figure it out together. No rush. No pressure.” He smiled. “Though I do have some suggestions.”
“Oh?”
“Starting with this.”
He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, like they had all the time in the world.
Like they weren’t standing in a quiet kitchen with nothing to unpack and Herbert watching from the windowsill.
Like three doors was exactly the right distance and everything was falling into place even if it felt like falling apart.
When they finally broke apart, Meg was breathless.
“Good suggestion,” she managed.
“I have others. Want to hear them?”
“Maybe. Yes. After pizza. ”
“Cold pizza and warm wine in an empty house.” Luke grinned. “Very romantic.”
“You forgot Herbert. Cold pizza, warm wine, and a succulent witness.”
“Even better.”
They settled at the kitchen table, sharing leftover pizza and wine, talking about everything and nothing. Luke told her about the tide pool project moving forward. She admitted she’d almost taken Tyler’s label maker too but showed restraint.
“So noble,” he teased.
“I have my limits. Very few, but they exist.”
“What’s the plan for tomorrow? First day in the new office?”
“Conference calls without bathroom echoes. Living the dream.” She played with her wine glass. “And checking on Tyler and Stella approximately every hour.”
“They’ll be fine.”
“I know. That’s what scares me.” She looked around the empty kitchen. “What if they don’t need me?”
“Meg.” Luke took her hand. “They’ll always need you. Just differently. Not as a buffer or a referee or a bathroom-conference-call coordinator. As family.”
“When did you get so smart about family dynamics?”
“I’ve been watching yours for years. It’s like a nature documentary. Fascinating behavioral patterns.”
She laughed despite herself. “We’re not that bad. ”
“You literally just moved three doors away and acted like it was an arctic expedition.”
“There was a succulent involved. That’s serious business.”
“Of course. Herbert changes everything.”
They talked until the wine was gone and the pizza was just a memory. Luke helped her arrange the few things she’d brought, making the house feel slightly less like a museum. When he finally left, with another kiss that made her knees weak, Meg felt something settle in her chest.
Change was hard. Three doors felt like three hundred. But maybe that was okay. Maybe the distance was exactly what they all needed.
She looked at Herbert, stationed proudly on the windowsill.
“Just you and me now,” she told the succulent. “Think we can make this work?”
Herbert, being a succulent, didn’t answer. But the house felt a little less empty, a little more like possibility.
Tomorrow she’d have her first real workday in her own space. Tomorrow Tyler and Stella would navigate breakfast without her. Tomorrow everything would be different.
But tonight, she could still taste wine and Luke’s kisses, could still hear echoes of laughter from dinner, could still feel the warmth of being wanted even three doors away.
It wasn’t perfect. But it was a start.