Tides of Love

Chapter One
 Mikayla Pierce involuntarily licked her lips as she watched the server walk toward their table. She sat up in her seat as he placed the pint glass of amber hard cider before her on the square coaster and another in front of Ashe, who pushed her wild mane of bright blue hair back and batted her boldly lined and lashed eyes at him.
 Mikayla kicked her sister under the table but had a hard time being truly irritated at her, not while they sat overlooking the glimmering Pacific Ocean from the glassed-in patio of the Grotto, a restaurant situated on the cliffs of La Jolla, California. She was determined to wait until the server left before she lifted her drink and took a big sip. She didn’t want to appear too eager. It wasn’t the alcohol she craved but the memories it evoked. Her memories were bleak these days, and the cider reminded her of happier times. Sought-after happiness typically didn’t come in a glass for her, but oh, the memories this one held.
 “Thanks, Pete,” she said, prying her eyes from the glass.
 “No problem, Mrs. Duncan.” He tucked the serving tray under his arm. “Will you be eating dinner with us this evening?”
 “It’s Ms. Pierce now, Pete, but how many times have I told you to call me Mikayla? We’ll probably order something to eat in a little bit.”
 “Sorry. I forgot you said you were celebrating your divorce today. This first round is on me, ladies. I’ll check in on you again soon.”
 She refrained from reminding him that Ashe had used the word celebrate, not her. She was definitely not celebrating. She had no idea what she was doing. Still numb from the shock of it all, she’d been avoiding her feelings and had only recently started to allow emotion into her world again. To her surprise, the expected devastation at the mention of the D-word didn’t come. Maybe in time. She turned to ask Ashe how long it would take, only to catch her sister’s eyes glued to the back of Pete’s work pants as he walked back into the restaurant.
 “He’s not a pork chop. You can wipe the drool from your chin.”
 “I’m savoring the presentation,” Ashe said, slowly turning her head back to Mikayla after Pete disappeared through the swinging kitchen doors. “That man is yummy.”
 “Jeez, Ashe. You’re as bad as a man and almost twice his age. Try the cider.” Mikayla buzzed with excitement to introduce Ashe to the new Julian Orchards Hard Fuji Apple Cider she’d discovered the last time she’d come to the Grotto. It tasted like a cherished memory, transporting her directly back to the winding drive up to the little mountain town of Julian with their beloved Grampa and Grandma James to pick apples. They’d died fifteen years ago, six months apart, he from a heart attack and she from a broken heart. She missed them as much now as she had back then. She wasn’t going to let her sister’s lechery spoil the moment. She needed this happy.
 Ashe lifted her glass. “I’m certain he’s a man who wants more than missionary sex. I have a rigid two-orgasm requirement. Life is too short for anything less.”
 Mikayla shook her head. “Whatever floats your boat, as Mom likes to say.”
 “Do not bring Mom into my bedroom.” Ashe sipped her drink. She gave an impressed look at the glass. “This is good.”
 “Does it evoke any memories?”
 “Now that you mention it…” Ashe closed her eyes, and thinking lines appeared between her eyebrows. As Mikayla watched, she smoothed the same spot between her own brows with a finger. Recent Botox had made it numb. “It reminds me of being slightly carsick, the odor of unfiltered Camel cigarette smoke, and…”
 “Grandma and Grandpa James,” they said together.
 “Right?” Mikayla said.
 “I miss them so much,” Ashe said, taking another sip.
 “I couldn’t wait for you to try it exactly for that.”
 “I wondered why my wine-drinking sister all of a sudden got all hot for cider.” Ashe laughed. “It’s not often you surprise me, and you’re such a sap for the good old days.”
 Mikayla sighed. “Things were uncomplicated back then.”
 “Well, we were ten and eight. Everything was uncomplicated.”
 Mikayla blew out a long sigh. “Yeah.”
 “Speaking of Mom, is she speaking to you again yet?”
 Mikayla dropped her chin to her chest, blew out another big breath, then straightened, sitting tall in her chair. She trailed her finger through the condensation on her glass. “Dad says I should give her time to process. Apparently, it’s shaken her to her core that Craig’s going through with the divorce. As if it’s up to me to fix it. Were you aware that divorced men have lower life expectancies? She’s worried about Craig, and if I can’t make my marriage work, no one can. She’s already grieving the ocean views from our backyard and mourning our holiday gatherings.” She didn’t mention how their mother still hadn’t asked her how she was holding up. Almost as if it had been her shattering Craig’s hopes and dreams. Not the other way around. Craig would be fine. Mikayla? Well, that remained to be seen.
 “You mean, she made it about herself? What a huge surprise.” Sarcasm dripped from Ashe’s voice.
 Normally, having her sister say aloud what they both thought of their mother made Mikayla feel better, but this time, she only registered her mother’s words. She’d always hated how overly servile her mother behaved toward her father. Actually, her fathers. Plural, since the man she presently called her father happened to be her second stepfather. Her and Ashe’s biological father had died when they were seven and nine, and her mother’s second husband had died when they were eleven and thirteen.
 Daddy number three, currently still in the picture, had assumed his position by the time Mikayla turned twelve. They’d all been wonderful men, and she’d called