Page 295 of The Romance Adventure

We all go quiet because that’s exactly what it could mean. Perhaps the Crimson Tide is over there.

“I love you, Strawberry Shortcake.” Royal hugs her close and kisses her forehead.

Robyn wrinkles her nose. “Okay, enough, you too. You’re making Nutmeg uncomfortable. You probably should’ve gone on your honeymoon.”

“But I thought you had fun,” Isla teases.

“Where did Mom and Dad’s boat supposedly sink?” I ask because if the barque is along Sailor’s Folly, maybe that’s where they went missing, too.

The door opens and CJ stands in the doorway, dripping wet. “It didn’t.”

“You look like something the cat dragged in,” Royal says.

Nutmeg flicks her tail with disapproval.

The ladies are so excited to catch CJ up on our most recent developments, that we don’t have a chance to ask him where he docked his boat or why he returned in the storm. Okay, not to ask, but to tell him he’s an idiot.

We linger in Beans & Books until the rain lets up. Eventually, when it does, Harley leaves to get Luke and I head back to the house to get the journal and the pen with a plume. Maybe there is something written on the blank page that was inside the envelope after all.

No one is home, but before I return to town, I spot Harley on the beach with Luke. The treasure hunt is captivating, but I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing than spending time with these two.

I wave as I approach. Luke lunges toward me, arms wide open. The sand is still damp from the rain and Harley passes the little bundle of boy to me.

Carefully and gently tossing him in the air because Mama Bear has her eyes on me, I blow a raspberry on Luke’s belly each time he comes back to me. I used to think the fans cheering when I scored a touchdown was the best sound in the world, but his giggles take the championship.

“I had no idea what I was missing,” I say.

“You’re really good with the little guy.”

We start walking, both of us quiet at first as if recollecting the morning and all the days before now. I don’t know about Harley, but I’m not sure where to start or what to make of it.

Eventually, I break the silence. “I have to go to the Dry Tortugas,” I say, referring to a nearby island.

“I’ve always wondered why it’s called dry when it’s surrounded by water,” she says.

“Because it’s a desert island. Get it?”

“A desert here? This is the tropics.”

“It’s like a desert, dry, sandy, deserted, not to be confused with dessert unless there’s some ice cream there. It was a dad joke.”

She laughs lightly. “A bad dad joke.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Harley lets out a breath like she’s about to take a risk, “You’d make a great dad.”

“I would? Never thought of that.”

“Never?”

“Okay, maybe a little.” I shift Luke in my arms.

Somehow, I slid right into the role. We went from a something-ship to a relationship. These last weeks, after long days clearing out the Sip & Scoop, we’ve had dinner with the rest of the Owens at the Driftwood, or on the beach. We get Luke ready for bed and then Harley will read to me from Chip’s portion of the journal—trying to see if we’ve missed anything. There are passages about business, including someone by the name of Kurt Jerkovic. Chip’s opinion of the guy soured before he disappeared from the entries entirely. Mostly, my grandfather wrote about missing his wife, taking care of us, and the treasure hunt without any mention of the crown itself.

I can’t help but fear that all my treasure will get snatched away. Washed away by a storm, caught up in some mysterious, unsolved event like the waxy blob.

Harley