And Then She Kissed Me

2. Devon

CHAPTER 2

Devon

Sam and Sadie’s party is in full swing when I arrive. I spot a lot of familiar faces, but I’m here for one face in particular. I can see Sadie on my TV screen whenever I want these days, but it’s been years since I’ve seen her in the flesh. When Suzy invited me earlier today, I didn’t have to think twice about accepting. I consider myself a down-to-earth person—you have to be in my profession—but Sadie Ireland has always been the exception to any rule I’ve ever set myself.

I make my way through the throng of people on the deck. I hear two guys I know talking about catching some waves in the morning. I give them a nod of recognition. I try to ignore the coil of nerves in my stomach, even though I know better than most how futile it is to try not to feel your feelings. But again—Sadie’s the exception to everything.

I spot Suzy first. She’s part of a circle of people that have gathered around Sam and Sadie, as if they’re holding court. Suzy’s usually the center of every circle, but maybe she’s happy to surrender the spotlight to her siblings on their birthday. I know all three Irelands and it has always struck me as odd that, out of the three of them, Sadie ended up the TV star.

Not that she doesn’t have the looks for it—she always had. I lock my gaze on her and it all comes back to me, engulfing me like a dream I’m not sure I ever want to wake up from.

We’re both twenty-four years older now, but the slant of Sadie’s nose and the shape of her eyes are as familiar to me now as they were then.

Sadie has spotted me. She does that thing with her eyes when she glances away at first before her gaze is pulled back, as though she has no other choice but to look at me again.

“Devon!” Suzy must have seen something on her sister’s face because she has turned around and is pulling me toward them. “So glad you came.”

“Happy birthday, Irelands.” I stand around awkwardly because I don’t know whether to kiss them or hug them or, more than anything else, how to behave around Sadie.

Sam opens his arms wide and draws me into a bear hug. I’m not a regular at his bar, but I stop by here often enough, usually for a post-surf morning coffee.

“Happy you could make it,” he mumbles, his words slurring a touch already.

“Thank you so much for having me. I’m sorry I didn’t bring a gift. It was all a bit last minute, but it’s definitely forthcoming.”

“Your presence is your gift.” Sam steps back and I have a full view of Sadie again. Does she even remember that day? Probably not. It meant different things to us. That has always been clear.

“Devon!” Sadie sounds surprised to see me. “Oh, my god!” She opens her arms to me and I walk into her embrace. “Wow,” Sadie whispers when her lips are close to my ear. “What a trip down memory lane.”

I’m partial to tight hugs full of intention, but I only manage a limp pat on Sadie’s shoulders.

“I know.” I send her a smile after I’ve stepped back. “It’s been a minute.” I regroup and turn it on in a way that fools even myself.

Sadie arches up her eyebrows and brings a fingertip to my left arm. “Wow,” she says again. “Those are so incredibly cool.”

“Devon’s the most tattooed life coach around,” Suzy says. “Sadie’s right, by the way. You’re such a cool chick, Dev.”

I chuckle heartily. “Cool is the very last thing I’m feeling right now.” I give Sadie a look so she knows I’m referring to her presence.

“Don’t tell me Sadie’s fame impresses the likes of you.” Suzy brings her hands to her hips, as though scolding me. “That’s not what I signed up for when I hired you as my coach.”

We all have our weaknesses, I think, but can’t possibly say out loud. “It’s not so much the fame that impresses me, but that the girl I used to sit next to in class is now on my television every time I turn it on.”

“Professional hazard,” Sadie says.

“Here.” Sam offers me a bottle of beer. I’m not much of a drinker, but tonight, in the presence of Sadie Ireland, I may very well indulge.

“Here’s to you two.” I hold up the bottle and both Sam and Sadie clink theirs against it. I try to catch Sadie’s gaze as we toast, but it skitters away. Maybe a flash of memory surprised her, too.

“You must have turned forty recently?” Sadie inquires.

“A few months ago.”

“Here’s to you as well, then.” She lifts her bottle again, and this time, she returns my gaze for a split second. Her eyes still have the same bottomless darkness to them. Her smile is still as lopsidedly gorgeous as ever. “You look really good, Devon.”

Heat flashes up my neck. Thank goodness the light is dimmed in the bar. Damn you, fair complexion. Unlike the surfer dudes on the deck, and despite all the time I spend in the water and underneath the California sun, my skin only knows two tones: alabaster white and lobster red.

“Thank you.” More people arrive and want a piece of Sam and especially Sadie. According to Suzy, even though LA is only a six-hour drive south, Sadie doesn’t make it back to Clearwater Bay very often. Also, according to Suzy, Sam is the luckiest of the three Ireland siblings because Sadie bought him a beach house and a bar in his beloved hometown, and he gets to enjoy the fruits of their sister’s labor the most.

“I hope we get to talk some more later,” Sadie says, before she’s swallowed up by a group of people I’m not familiar with.

I lean against the bar and cast my gaze about the place. I see plenty of people I know and should chat with, but my eyes are drawn back to Sadie time and time again. I’d best get a grip. I look away and think of my son, Finn, who should be fast asleep right now at his dad’s. It’s easy enough to picture him in a funny, haphazard sleeping position, which is exactly what I need to pull me out of my Sadie Ireland induced trance.

When I scan the bar again, it’s with different intentions. I fully acknowledge that I have some residual feelings left for Sadie, while I also know that twenty-four years later, they no longer hold any meaning. It’s more nostalgia than anything else. Perhaps mixed with a touch of loneliness. I won’t wallow in either, which is why I decide there and then, as my gaze scours the women in The Bay, to kill two birds with one stone—if I feel less lonely, nostalgia won’t stand much chance either.

As if on cue, the music is turned up. Suzy’s the first to start dancing, pulling her reluctant brother and sister along with her. Both Sam and Sadie retreat to the bar, while Suzy is quickly surrounded by other people more than willing to dance.

A woman I don’t know catches my eyes. She has a few tattoos of her own, which is always a way in. I try to focus on her, but it’s as though an invisible force field radiates from farther down the bar, where Sadie’s standing. I can’t help but look—and I can’t help but melt a little more either. Damn you, nostalgia.