Silver Bay / Chapter 3

Lying on a deckchair on Noah's terrace, I finally enjoy my day off, hoping to catch a bit of sun. Sunglasses on, earphones firmly in place, I let the music gently lull me. The sun warms my skin, the world fades away, and I begin to drift into a peaceful drowsiness. A hand suddenly touches my arm. I jolt, pulling out one earbud. Noah is looking at me with a teasing smile.

 — Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.

 Wearing only swim trunks, he settles next to me and stretches out lazily. I turn toward him, draw closer, and place a hand on his chest before closing my eyes again. I feel his fingers slide over mine, intertwining gently. The sun warms our skin, and for a moment, everything feels calm, until Noah decides to tease me.

 — Planning to sleep all day?

 I answer without opening my eyes.

 — Maybe. It’s my day off. I’m enjoying it.

He laughs softly and presses a kiss to my forehead, making me smile. But the moment is broken by a vibration on the table next to us. A call. I groan in frustration as he gets up to check. He reluctantly answers.

 — Hello? ... Yes, of course. Why?

 He turns to me, a hesitant smile on his lips.

— She’d be delighted.

 I squint, suspicious. He hangs up and comes back to me. I can already see in his eyes that whatever he's about to say won’t please me. I sigh dramatically and lean back, savoring the last few seconds of peace.

 — Alright, go ahead. Spit it out.

He clears his throat.

— My mom wants us over for dinner tonight.

I pause, then let out an exaggerated sigh.

— Even when I imagine the worst, I’m still not close.

— I know it’s hard between you two...

— Correction: SHE has a problem with me. 

— Maybe... But it wouldn't hurt to try a little.

I sit up abruptly and remove my sunglasses, glaring.

— Are you kidding? I have been trying. She always finds a way to put me down. She can’t help herself.

He tries to calm me.

— It’s true she can be a little...

— Annoying? Controlling? Condescending? Want me to keep going?

He gives me a look that says you're overreacting, but I know I’m not. That woman is a nightmare in heels.

— Anyway, I said we’d go. You’ve got 15 minutes to get ready. I stare at him.

— What ? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing ?

He glances at me, and I roll my eyes. Jean shorts and a bikini top... yeah, probably not approved by the wicked stepmother. After turning my whole wardrobe upside down, I finally settle on a black long-sleeved flowy dress, dressed up with some gold accessories, simple but effective. As for shoes, my options are limited, so I ditch my worn boots for black sandals. I grab my straw bag and head out. Noah is already waiting downstairs on his Vespa, the engine softly humming. He’s in a navy shirt tucked into white pants that fit him like a dream. His blond hair is slicked back, the picture of effortless elegance. So attractive, I almost forget about the disaster of an evening ahead.

***

We arrive in front of an imposing house, spotless facade, perfectly aligned planters. Not a thing out of place. Noah takes my hand, a small, reassuring squeeze before knocking on the door. It opens to reveal a woman with blonde hair pulled into a painfully tight ponytail. She’s wearing a fitted white dress with a perfectly matched pearl necklace. A real-life 50s housewife model, except her smile is sharper than it is warm. After noting, without much effort to hide her irritation, that we’re seven minutes late, she invites us in. We follow her to the dining room, where a large, impeccably set table awaits, already surrounded by guests. Among them, unfamiliar but clearly influential faces. A tight-jawed lawyer, a retired judge whose glasses slide down his nose, and even the city’s mayor, smiling with a glass of champagne already in hand. The conversation is muted, the laughter overly polite. Uncomfortable, I squeeze Noah’s hand a little tighter. This kind of atmosphere suffocates me. Too much pretense. His mother gestures toward two chairs right across from her. Of course. She wants us in her line of sight. As I sit, I notice him; Lieutenant Montgomery. The kind of man who gives orders and expects no questions. He glances at me briefly, then looks away. Next to him sits Victor, his son. He avoids my gaze, and honestly, that’s for the best. This dinner is awkward enough without lingering eye contact. The conversation drags on. Urban redevelopment, subsidies, bills… a masterclass in dull topics. Then Mary, Noah’s mother, rises with her champagne glass. She taps it gently, and a solemn hush falls over the table.

— I’d like to make a toast in honor of Mr. Montgomery, recently appointed Lieutenant of Silver Bay.

Applause scatters around the room. Victor’s father wears the composed satisfaction of someone used to recognition. Victor, meanwhile, looks like he’d rather vanish. Mary sits down again, and of course, turns to me.

— So, Elea?

I mask my anxiety with a polite, if slightly frozen, smile.

— How’s your entrepreneurial journey going?

— The café is doing well, thank you.

— Are you actually making a living from that ? I mean… on your own, with no real support?

Noah steps in, calm and firm, trying to deflect the jab. She gives him a disapproving look. I could stay quiet. I could let it go. But no.

— I’ve learned to manage on my own, Mary. Independence has its perks. The café sustains me. It’s not luxurious, but I’m not complaining.

My smile stays in place, though my jaw tightens. Mary nods, feigning satisfaction though clearly, she heard exactly what she expected.

— That’s admirable. Truly. You seem like a fighter. It’s not easy for everyone to bounce back after such a... trauma.
 
She takes a sip of champagne as if she hadn’t just tossed a grenade into the conversation. Noah shifts uncomfortably, but I stop him with a subtle motion.

— And you, Mary, what do you do for work ?

I return her smile with equal insincerity. Her lips purse. For a second, she glares at me, then cleverly redirects.

— Well, no need to monopolize the attention. Since we’re among friends, Montgomery, where does the investigation stand ?

She puts a hand to her chest, playing the distraught hostess.

— Poor Mr. Fletcher... such a respectable man. What happened to him is just awful.

A chill runs through me. My throat tightens. I avoid Victor’s eyes, though I know he’s just as tense. “Respectable” nearly makes me laugh. If she only knew. Montgomery answers, his tone neutral.

— As you know, Mr. Fletcher’s body was found in a creek. Based on the initial evidence, his death doesn’t appear... natural.

A heavy silence falls. My stomach knots. The words hang in the air like a quiet warning. Victor stays composed, but I notice his clenched jaw.

— Maybe he got what he deserved. Every head turns to Victor.

His father frowns. Mary smirks faintly, clearly enjoying the drama. I feel the tension spike and jump in.

— I think he meant that in general. After all, not everyone leads a spotless life. A man like him... surely had his share of skeletons.

Mary looks me up and down, searching for cracks in my composure, but Noah interjects gently.

— Maybe we should change the subject. This might not be the best time for this kind of discussion.

He smiles, trying to ease the mood, but I can tell he’s just as uneasy.

***

Dinner drags on like an endless play. When we finally leave, it’s late. As guests trickle out, I linger near the gate while Noah finishes talking to his mother. That’s when Victor passes by, pretending not to see me.

— Seriously? You couldn’t keep your mouth shut ?

He stops, turns with irritation.

— Would it kill you to say hello ?

I lower my voice, seething.

— While you’re at it, why not tell them everything ?

Victor looks like he’s about to reply, then changes his mind. He shrugs, clearly bored. Starts to walk away. I grab his arm.

— Maybe it’s nothing to you cause you’ve got no one. But I do. A boyfriend, friends, a café to run. I’m not losing all of that because of you.
 
— Keep pretending to be the perfect little café owner with your sweet boyfriend and your cozy life. I don’t care.

He yanks his arm away, leaving me frozen, stunned by the bite in his voice. I stand still as he walks off. Noah joins me, a bright smile on his face.

— I know dinner was rough, so... I’ve got a surprise for you.

I try to return the smile, though the bitterness still lingers. I follow him to the Vespa. The cool night wind brushes our faces as we ride to the beach. There, he takes my hand, pulling me toward the waves. I give him a knowing look.

— Perfect. I love midnight swims.

He grins, then kisses me gently. I pull back slightly.

— Promise me something.

He raises an eyebrow.

— Next time I see your mother, it’ll be at least a year from now.

He laughs, a real laugh that lifts the weight of the night.

— I promise.

On impulse, I peel off my dress and run into the cold sea. It steals my breath, but I smile. Noah follows without hesitation, laughing. We splash and play like nothing else exists. I wrap my legs around him, kiss him deeply. His fingers brush my hair back behind my ear.

— I love you.

— I love you too.

His kiss deepens. Our bodies press together, urgent and soft. My breath syncs with his. I turn, offering him my back. His fingers unfasten my bra, his lips climbing the curve of my neck. He caresses my hips with reverent ease. My body melts into his, waves rocking us gently. His fingers graze the inside of my thighs, and then, we move as one. My breath hitches. I hold him tighter, tangled in his wet hair, in his rhythm. The world vanishes. All that remains is heat, contact, and a silent intensity that drowns everything else.