Chapter 2: A Vacation
The smell of charred cedar and sea salt drifted through the screen door as Tessa unpacked. She swapped her boots for flip-flops, trying to shake the image of Mark’s damp curls from her mind. She was the "Sensible Thorpe." She didn't get flustered by ocean-blue eyes, and she certainly didn't fall for her sister’s rejected blind dates—even if that rejection had been a mutual pivot toward friendship.
Walking back into the kitchen, she found Athena struggling with a massive bowl of potato salad while Caleb hovered nearby, trying to "help" by sampling the ingredients.
“You two are subtle,” Tessa said, leaning against the marble countertop. “About as subtle as a car alarm at three in the morning.”
Athena didn't even look up, though her ears turned a light shade of pink. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just thought it was a nice gesture. Mark was so helpful during the… you know, the whole weird love triangle with my ex who became my husband after I planned for his wedding with someone else situation. He deserved a beach trip.”
“He’s an only child, Tess,” Caleb added, finally catching a piece of celery Athena tossed at him. “He’s never experienced a Thorpe family vacation. We’re doing him a public service.”
“A public service,” Tessa repeated, flatly. “Is that why you put his room right across from mine in the guest wing? For community outreach?”
Before Caleb could answer, the screen door slapped shut. Mark walked in, now wearing a dry, charcoal-grey hoodie that made him look unfairly cozy. He was carrying a stack of firewood.
“Fire pit’s ready for later,” Mark announced. He caught Tessa’s eye and gave her a small, knowing nod. “I also found a local place down the road that does a lavender-honey latte. I figured since they don't have mochas here, you might be going into withdrawal by tomorrow morning.”
Tessa felt the air leave her lungs again. It was a tactical strike. Mark didn't just know she liked coffee; he knew her specific brand of caffeine-fueled grumpiness.
“Lavender-honey?” she asked, trying to sound skeptical. “That sounds like drinking a garden.”
“It’s surprisingly good,” Mark countered, stepping closer to set the wood by the hearth. “Or I could just get you a plain black coffee and we can watch you scowl at the ocean. Your choice.”
Athena giggled, and Tessa shot her a look that usually silenced her siblings. This time, it had no effect.
“Go help him, Tessa,” Athena said, shooing her away with a wooden spoon. “The grill needs pre-heating, and Caleb and I have to… uh… finish this salad."
"You need Caleb's help for that?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Why?"
"It’s a two-person job.”
“It’s literally just stirring,” Tessa pointed out.
“Very intense stirring,” Caleb said, grabbing the bowl and pulling Athena toward the other side of the kitchen.
Tessa sighed, defeated, and looked at Mark. He was holding the door open for her, a playful glint in his eyes.
“After you, Thorpe,” he said.
The deck was bathed in the golden-orange hue of the setting sun. The dunes were casting long shadows, and the sound of the waves was louder out here, a rhythmic thrum that matched the beating of her heart.
“They’re definitely meddling,” Mark said quietly once they were out of earshot.
Tessa walked to the railing, gripping the smooth wood. “Definitely? They’re practically wearing ‘Team Messa’ t-shirts."
"Messa?" Mark grinned.
"It's what I assume they call us behind our backs."
"Messa sounds like a mess, a fun one though."
"Ugh, I should have known when Caleb offered to pay for the gas.”
Mark laughed and moved to stand beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off his shoulder. “Does it bother you? The meddling, I mean.”
Tessa looked out at the horizon, where the sky met the water in a hazy purple line. “I’m the protector, Mark. I’m the one who makes sure my sister won't get hurt. I’m not used to being the project.”
“Maybe you don't have to be a project,” Mark said, his voice dropping an octave. He turned to face her, leaning his back against the railing. “Maybe you could just be a guest. For once.”
Tessa finally looked at him. Up close, his eyes weren't just blue; they were deep, like the water at the end of the pier. She thought about all those months she’d spent telling herself that Mark was "just a nice guy" for Athena. She thought about how much easier it was to manage other people's hearts than her own.
“I don't know how to do that,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
Mark reached out, his hand hovering near hers on the railing before he bravely closed the gap, letting his pinky finger rest against hers. It was a tiny contact, but it felt like a jolt of electricity.
“I’m an actor, remember?” he said with a soft smile. “I can teach you how to play the part. Step one: stop worrying about what Athena thinks. Step two…”
“Step two?” Tessa prompted, her breath hitching.
“Enjoy the view,” he said, but he wasn't looking at the ocean anymore. He was looking directly at her.
The moment was shattered by Caleb’s loud "accidental" dropping of a metal tray inside the kitchen, followed by Athena’s poorly muffled shushing.
Tessa let out a startled laugh, the tension breaking. “They are terrible at this.”
“The worst,” Mark agreed, though he didn't pull his hand away. “But hey, if it gets me a weekend at the beach with the most interesting woman I know, I’m not going to complain to the management.”
Tessa looked at their joined fingers, then up at him. For the first time since they’d arrived, she didn't feel like she needed an extra shot of espresso to face the day.
“Lavender-honey, huh?” she murmured.
“Tomorrow morning,” he promised. “It’s a date.”
“A vacation activity,” she corrected, though the blush on her cheeks told a different story.
“Right,” Mark grinned, his dimples showing. “A very romantic, one-on-one vacation activity.”