Trusting the Billionaire by Emma Sutton

Author:Emma Sutton [Sutton, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Henry

With the murky inked skies of twilight now starting to lift, I shut the front door of the Market Street house that I used to know like the back of my hand. Birds tweet me a jittery tune as they wake for the day which brings on a sudden pang of nostalgia.

It was a long time ago that I used to spend summers at this house. But with all the memories the double-story historic home holds⁠, it just feels wrong to be back in the house. Memories like vacations Lydia and I shared with the kids serving as a yearly respite from our crazy life up in Kentucky. The month-long surf camps I’d frequented in high school. Spending every Fourth of July I can remember on the docks here across the street until I found myself swept away to Yale University and living the ridiculous Ivy League life⁠. I mean, even Grandma June’s furniture is all still here. But it’s gone untouched for three years now. The air feels empty. It’s just a strange realization that none of these memories, no matter how special, can quell.

With a sleepy Ryley still in my arms along with her Winnie the Pooh blanket she’s had since the day she was born, I lock the door behind me with the old key. As I turn to head to the car, I take pause, breathing in the salty air from the sea across the street. I can only see part of it between the homes in front of me, but from the balcony on this place, you get a clear shot to the Atlantic.

The sun will push up over the horizon here in about half an hour while we’re at the bluff, but I can’t help but think how much this scene means to me. Especially shared with my two children. As I reach the car, I tuck a sleepy Ryley into her booster seat next to Co.

Hopping up into the driver’s seat, I glance up at my two babes in the rearview mirror. “Who’s ready to go watch some surfing?” I ask in a lower voice⁠— our morning excitement not quite at peak just yet.

Without a word, Rye raises her hand and tucks her cheek into her blanket.

“I am,” Cohen says through a fierce yawn.

Spending another few seconds just to watch them, I smile to myself at how lucky I am for the privilege of being their dad⁠. Now whether or not I’m doing a great enough job at it remains to be seen.

When we reach town, I pull over at the nearest coffee shop⁠— The Daily Grind⁠— and disappear inside for a second to grab us some breakfast. While in line for treats, I study the directions that Landon had texted me last night that are supposed to lead us straight to the bluff. I’d only ever been up there once, but that was when I was a kid and meeting one of my summer friends there via bicycle.

Once I veer us right at the fork in the road, I see a blue sign for Sandstone Bluff.

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