Page 7 of Time After Time (Golden Sands #1)

Sebastian

T he words on the page stopped making sense.

Gen’s fingers slid through my hair, her gentle touch massaging my scalp, and the words on the page blurred.

Every line I read slipped away like water through my fingers, leaving me wondering if I’d even said them aloud.

I hadn’t realised how much I missed this—lying in her lap, her fingers tracing soft, absent-minded patterns as she listened.

“That’s enough for today,” I said, stifling a yawn mid-sentence.

We hadn’t read much, just a few pages, but it was already clear the protagonist’s family was going to be exhausting. Still, I wanted to know what would happen to Anne Elliot.

As I sat up, Gen’s fingers slipped from my hair and rested quietly in her lap. She stayed focused on the book, now perched comfortably on my rucksack.

“Damn,” I muttered, slipping an almost whole apricot in my mouth from the pile Gen’s mum had given me.

The pit slid out easily as the juicy nectar trickled down my arm.

I instinctively licked the trail, following it up to my fingers before popping the rest of the apricot into my mouth.

I felt a pair of eyes on me, but I ignored it, shutting my eyes and letting out a satisfied grunt. The taste was pure bliss.

St. James’ never disappoints when it comes to fruit. Michael must have some secret trick up his sleeve or something. These aren’t just the best in town, they’re the best apricots I’ve ever had.

“Have you heard anything from the apprenticeship?” Her question made a knot of anxiety suddenly tighten in my throat.

I finally met her eyes and exhaled softly. “Not yet, but I’m hopeful.”

Even with the anxiety swirling in my chest, a small spark of hope broke through. I’d applied for an apprenticeship with Reth Inoue. He was one of the most well-known pastry chefs out there, and he didn’t just make desserts—he created masterpieces. He shaped them, told stories through them.

I’d thrown myself into every extra culinary course I could find, doing whatever I could to strengthen my portfolio and stand out. This was my chance, the opportunity I’d been working toward for years, to follow the passion I’d always known was meant for me.

“They’ll definitely choose you.” She placed her hand on my knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. My eyes followed her fingers before meeting her gaze. Gen had been my biggest supporter since we were kids, always there. Just like I was for her. “You’re incredible. I believe in you.”

A flicker of sadness dimmed her eyes, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was also thinking about the future that might pull us apart. The thought unsettled me, so I pushed it aside.

I leaned in and ruffled her hair, feeling the damp strands slip through my fingers. She let out a whine, swatting at my hands in mock annoyance. Her hair, a tangled mess from our swim, fell loosely around her cheeks, with a few grains of sand clinging here and there.

The curve of her lips, shaped like Cupid’s bow, gleamed in the sunlight.

I couldn’t help but notice, as always, how her lower lip had a subtle fullness that contrasted with the top.

Her cheeks, pleasantly round, framed a heart-shaped face.

She had once mentioned disliking this feature, feeling it made her look childish.

I saw it differently. Her face was anything but childish.

“What about you?” I knew this question could weigh heavily on her.

Michael, her dad, had always set high expectations for her and her sister.

For reasons I couldn’t fully understand, he wanted them to leave this small town and explore the world.

Geneviève had once dreamed of leaving as a child, but recently, she admitted that the thought of leaving this place and what it meant to her was starting to tug at her.

“Yeah, you know my dad,” she said, her gaze dropping to her lap as her fingers nervously tugged at the edge of her bikini bottom.

“He wants me to go into a corporate job or something so I can make a decent income and never worry about money. But I can’t stand the idea of being stuck in a job that doesn’t excite me.

Maybe it sounds naive, but I want to actually enjoy what I do.

” She sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping as a quiet desperation crept into her wavering voice.

“Sure, a big paycheck wouldn’t hurt, but…

” Her expression faltered, and she chewed on the skin around her thumb, lost in thought.

“This morning, he stuck a pamphlet from the University of Barcelona on my back… about their architecture program.”

I reached out and eased her thumb away from her mouth, knowing how deep her nervous biting could go. “What’s on your mind?”

Her brow furrowed, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought, her lips parting as if searching for the right words. “I had this strange dream... more like a nightmare.”

“About what?”

Her lips curled downward, and I inched closer, silently hoping to offer some comfort.

“I found myself in my thirties, living alone in a tiny apartment, stuck in a dead-end job that barely paid enough to get by,” she began, her voice quivering slightly.

I leaned in, hanging on to each word she spoke.

“I was working on some high-profile businessman’s construction project for a fancy building.

It was one of those days when everything went wrong.

” She continued, listing one thing after another—like the coffee machine that broke, the taxi that splashed water all over her, the boss who seemed to get off on making everyone miserable—and more.

“And when I finally got home, this wave of loneliness just... hit me,” she said, her voice soft, almost like she was speaking to herself.

She wiped at her eyes, her fingers lingering on her cheek.

“I hadn’t talked to my parents, and Sylvie…

” She trailed off, her breath hitching as she looked away, her gaze darting around before finally meeting mine.

“Sylvie was gone, and I didn’t even go to her funeral. ”

I was about to ask, but she raised her hand, silencing me. “You weren’t around either. I don’t know what happened between us, but even thinking about you hurt .” She paused, her eyes distant, like she was somewhere else. “I saw our photo album and couldn’t bring myself to open it.”

Her words hit me hard, a knot tightening in my chest. I had a thousand questions bubbling up, but they all seemed to freeze before they reached my lips. Why wasn’t I there? Why did just thinking about me cause her so much pain? What the hell had happened between us?

“Hey,” I whispered, cupping her cheeks as I leaned in, our foreheads gently pressing together. I didn’t mind the damp strands of her hair sticking to mine. “That nightmare? It’s not going to come true.”

The thought of leaving at the end of summer crept into my mind again, but I shook it off.

“We’ve still got the entire summer, Gen,” I said, my voice softer, hoping she’d feel it.

“We can explore, try new things, find something you’re passionate about.

A place, an experience, something that helps you see where you want to go.

” It was the best I could offer right then, but I hoped it was enough.

She took a deep breath, her warm exhale brushing against my skin as she rested her forehead on my chest. Her cool fingertips brushed my lower back, sending a shiver through me.

I felt my muscles tighten, my hands moving to her bare back, goosebumps rising.

The sound of waves surrounded us, crashing against the shore.

These were the fears we knew we’d have to face eventually, the kind that seemed bigger the more we focused on them.

For a while, we stayed like that. The sun growing stronger as we shifted into more comfortable positions, drowsiness slowly pulling at both of us.

Eventually, the heat became too much for Gen. She shifted, letting out a grunt as she pulled away from my chest, her skin damp from the sun and our closeness. She glanced out at the water, then back at me with a small smile. “How about one last swim before we head home?”

Once we reached her house, I broke the silence that had settled over us during the walk. “See you tomorrow morning?” I asked, already knowing I’d be tied up helping my mum with some repairs for the rest of the day. There were also a few boxes I still needed to bring over to my cottage.

Gen nodded and smiled, stepping closer to pull me into a tight hug. Instinctively, I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, just like always.

“Hey, Seb,” a familiar voice called out, drawing my attention to the doorway.

Sylvie was walking toward us, her smile as bright as ever.

I chuckled and opened my arms for a hug, waiting until Gen stepped back.

“Seriously, you’ve got to stop growing,” Sylvie teased, her hug much quicker than her sister’s.

I gave her a light pat on the back as we pulled apart.

“Did you have a growth spurt in the few days you were gone?”

A sly smile spread across my face. “Well, my nonna makes these little casseroles and piles my plate high with double servings of everything.” I watched their eyes light up, the corners of their lips twitching before they both burst into laughter, shaking their heads in disbelief.

My grandma had a way of making sure we were never just full, but completely stuffed.

The St. James sisters knew her cooking well, since my nonna had a special fondness for them.

Back when she was healthier, the kitchen was always filled with the smell of her cooking, and she wouldn’t let anyone stop at just one serving.

Even if we were stuffed, she’d still insist we save room for dessert or a few slices of fruit.

“Oh, Sylvie,” I said, glancing at Gen as I crossed my arms. “Could I bring my truck by sometime? There’s this weird noise I can’t figure out.”