Page 35 of The Best Worst Mistake (Off-Limits #2)

Abby

I can see the Ferris wheel from here. The little yellow and red bucket seats perched under each matching umbrella spin slowly, nearly stretching out above the whitecap waves beneath the pier.

There’s a bright yellow roller coaster and what looks like a Tilt-A-Whirl beneath the structure, but I only have eyes for the towering, circular wheel.

I’ve wanted to see this thing in person since Rowan Sanderson brought in that photo in first grade.

I smile, my nose nearly pressed to the car window. Dax grabs my knee over the console between us and I take his hand in mine, grinning over at him.

“Let me just park the toaster real quick,” Dax says, throwing the car into reverse to try and fit into a tiny parking spot near the sandy boardwalk.

I turn back toward the beach, sand as far as I can see in each direction, with a wood-plank pier stretching out into the water.

At some point, someone somehow fit a whole amusement park on an enormous wooden pier that reaches out over the waves.

It all looks a bit intimidating now that we’re here, but I am determined to ride the wheel before we go back home.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” I say, once Dax gets the car in the spot and turns off the engine.

He insisted on coming here after we finished our milkshakes at the diner.

We’ve both taken the rest of the day off from work.

It is Saturday after all, and we deserve a break.

“I wish I had a swimsuit. How warm is the water?”

“Chilly, I’m guessing. Do you want to grab a bathing suit from a shop and try it out though? There’s plenty of kiosks that sell them down on the boardwalk.” He eyes the nearest souvenir shop lined with flowy kaftans and bikinis.

“Not today,” I tell him, smiling. “Let’s save the ocean for our next date.”

He turns toward me.

“Date?” he repeats, locking his eyes on mine. “Excuse me, Abs, but did you just use the D word ?”

“I did,” I say, laughing. “Granted, this isn’t nearly as fancy as that Michelin Star restaurant in New York.

” I glance out the window one more time, feeling like I’ve somehow stepped out of a nightmare and into one of my childhood dreams, which is now coming true.

“But honestly, this is so much better. For so many reasons.”

We get out of the car and pay for parking, then make our way toward the ticket booth at the entrance to the pier.

I can already hear the sound of children shrieking on rides as we’re surrounded by families and parents corralling excited young kids while we wait our turn to buy a wristband for the rides.

I watch the little girl in front of us reach up to hold her mother’s hand while we wait in line. The mom squeezes her daughter’s hand ever so slightly, as if she’s done it a thousand times, and smiles down at her before stepping up to the counter.

My heart suddenly tightens, as if caught in a vice.

I feel Dax’s eyes on me, and when I turn, he slips his own hand into mine, gently tightening his grip.

Like he knows I can feel the emptiness of my hand while watching what could and should have been part of my own memory.

I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder, then close my eyes, breathing in the smells of sweet cotton candy and buttery popcorn mixed with the salt of the sea.

“I love it here already,” I tell him, my eyes still closed as we wait for our turn. “It’s every bit as chaotic and wonderful as I imagined.”

“Just wait until you see the view from the top.” He kisses the crown of my head.

As soon as we have our wristbands, Dax begins leading us toward the Ferris wheel.

When we get to its base I look up, seeing couples and families, groups of teenagers, and girlfriends taking selfies filling the seats.

I watch them for a moment, imagining what the view of the ocean might be like from way up there.

“Is it okay if we save this one for last?” I ask. “I want the full pier experience, and I feel like that one might be the icing on top of the cake. Like the grand finale at the very end. I want to look forward to it for just a bit longer.”

Dax laughs. “Of course. Whatever you want. What do you want to do first?”

“Definitely not that,” I say, turning to the Scrambler. It’s like an egg beater, swinging little tubs full of people around its center. “I think I might see that milkshake again if we go on that.”

“How about the roller coaster then?” he asks, pointing toward the yellow track that’s laced throughout the park. It doesn’t look intimidating at all.

“I love that idea,” I tell him.

As we walk toward the line, he pulls me into him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I turn and tuck both arms around his waist, like a mid-walk hug, and squeeze into him as close as I can get.

“Thank you for taking me here,” I tell him. “It’s like a palate cleanser after seeing my old house today.” He kisses me again. “Did you come here often as a kid?”

“Me?” He laughs, thinking back. “I believe I came here twice. My parents are workaholics. We didn’t do much together when I was a kid. Hell, we still don’t do much together as adults.”

I look for any sign of residual hurt on his face, but he doesn’t look sad about it at all.

“Did that ever upset you?” I ask, wondering if he has any regret left over from his childhood, too.

“No. I don’t have any siblings. I think it happens with only children sometimes, where the parents kind of treat you like one of them instead of just a kid.

Sometimes I wish my parents had treated me more like a kid, taken me to do this type of thing more, but I can’t hold any of that against them.

They were — they are — remarkable people.

They just weren’t the warmest parents to grow up with.

But that’s alright. My mother taught me to argue, to win, to run her firm after she retires.

I think that was her way of showing me love. I think I’m a lot like her.”

I smile, trying to imagine an older, battleax version of Dax in the courtroom.

“She sounds like she might be intimidating,” I say.

“Nah. The thing about my parents is that they like whoever I like. Eventually, anyway.” He squeezes me closer. “Maybe you’ll meet them sometime. Maybe over the holidays, if you need a place to go.”

“I can’t imagine.” I’m trying to imagine a Harper & Associates Christmas with two of the managing partners and a tech legend, Dax’s father, all sitting together at a glittering table set for Christmas dinner.

“Big tree, lots of traditions, that kind of thing?” I ask.

It sounds like a Hallmark movie waiting to happen.

“You might have to find out,” he says casually, as if there isn’t the weight of a future in that statement — a future in which Dax and I share holidays together with his family. My stomach drops, but in a good way, and we aren’t even on the roller coaster yet.

We step in line and it moves quicker than I’d have guessed. Before we know it, we’re stepping into the tiny, car-shaped coasters secured safely to the track.

Smushed together, Dax tucks an arm around me again and kisses my temple.

“You ready for a wild ride?” he asks, grinning at me as a worker swings her arm in between us to check that the bar is tight over our laps.

I smile and nod, knowing the ride, at least for me, has already begun.