Page 84 of From Coast to Coast
“So that’s it,” Remy concludes, clapping his hands andrubbing his palms together. “Anybody need anything to eat, or we could check out the beach?”
“Beach,” Troy and Sam say simultaneously, before Troy adds: “Definitely the beach.”
“We’ll let you change.” Throwing my arm around Remy’s shoulders, I steer him toward the living room and bend to kiss the top of his head. I understand what people mean when they say they’re on cloud nine, now. I’m so happy I feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. I lean down to kiss his hair again, because why the fuck not.
“Think they’ll be surprised?” he whispers.
“Troy, definitely. He never suspects anybody of anything. He still acts shocked when I mail him a birthday present every year, like he can’t believe I remembered. Sam might have an inkling, but we’ve been pretty good at hiding it.”
“Do you think the house will be okay for Nico?” Remy pulls open the massive sliding patio doors, and turns around to peer at the living room. “That coffee table is a hazard for everyone, honestly. I should just get rid of it; the number of times I’ve bashed my shins on it.”
“I think it’ll be fine. I sent Lawson some pictures and he said you already have less furniture than they do, and a more open floor plan.”
“Okay.” Remy’s voice, barely above a whisper, still sounds wary. “I wish all the bedrooms were the same size. I feel bad that Corwin is getting the smallest one, but with Nico…”
Wrapping an arm around his waist, I pull his back against my chest and glance behind me to make sure Troy and Sam haven’t come out yet. They’re still back in their room, but I pitch my voice lower anyway, leaning down to speak directly into his ear.
“You don’t know Corwin like I do. He’s happiest when everyone else is happy. You could put him and Nigel on the porch and they would roll with it. Seriously, Remy, they’re the most laid-back group of people ever. Nobody is going to be unhappy with what they have here.”
“Nigel St. James can’t sleep on the porch. He’s old. It would hurt his back.”
I’m still laughing when Troy and Sam make an appearance, both wearing nothing but board shorts and matching grins. Troy looks at the open patio doors and nearly vibrates with excitement.
“We should swim,” he says.
“You need sunscreen,” Sam replies, eyeing his pale skin.
“I’ll get a base tan and then I’ll be fine,” Troy retorts, already walking out the door and down the steps. Sam follows immediately after.
“When you saybase tan,you mean sunburn, right?” he asks, making Remy laugh. He rises up on his toes to kiss me before patting my hip and following the other two out the door.
“I’ve got the spray shit. We can sneak attack him,” he calls to Sam.
“I canhearyou,” Troy responds.
Making sure I leave my phone behind, I jog down the stairs, leaving the patio doors open like Remy and I usually do when we’re home. When I reach the sand, it’s clear Troy lost this particular argument as he’s standing with his arms held out in a T-position while Sam walks around him and douses him with sunscreen. Remy points toward his calves.
“Don’t forget the legs and feet. Worst place to get a sunburn is the back of the knees—trust me.”
Obediently, Sam sprays twice as much sunscreen than isneeded onto the backs of Troy’s legs. He’s so greasy, he’s a reflective surface.
“Let that set before you go swimming,” Sam tells him, and then starts to spray his own arms.
“We probably should have bought more sunscreen,” I say to Remy.
“Nah, we’ll be okay once we get that base tan,” Troy repeats, making me laugh. He looks around, shading his eyes and peering up at the house. “This is really your beach, Remy?”
“From that marker”—he points to a stake—“to that one. This entire stretch is considered privately owned, so I rarely have any trouble. Sometimes dog walkers or runners will pass through, but that doesn’t bother me. The ‘private property’ thing is mostly meant to deter loiterers.”
“That’s so cool. I can’t believe you live here,” Troy muses, shaking his head.
“Well, we’ve got plenty of space,” Remy replies casually, waving a hand back toward the house. My head whips his direction so fast my neck cracks.We.“You’re welcome any time. The house is empty the majority of the time, anyway. You ever want to open it up for a weekend, you let me know.”
Troy beams at him, face flushed. He turns to Sam. “Swim?”
“Swim,” Sam agrees. “Race you.”
As quickly as if a starting gun was shot off, they bolt for the water, laughing deliriously. Remy watches them with a smile on his face; I watch Remy. That casualwerattles around my skull, short-circuiting my brain. I hope he meant it as the all-encompassing “we” that labels us as a single entity. We, as in Grayson and Remy. We as in this is endgame and I never want to touch another man as long as I live.