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might think the three of them were still a family. And the way Mike was staring at Lucy, standing closer than a divorced guy had the right to, he was undoubtedly wishing they were together again.
    Alexa tugged on her mom's shirt and said something. Lucy ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes as Mike touched her arm. Lucy sighed and held up two fingers and Alexa jumped in place and pumped her fist in the air. The smile on Mike's face left Tate pretty certain he was not going to be happy with whatever just went down.
    Alexa led Mike inside their house while Lucy walked over to Tate's with her head down. Tate stepped out onto the patio. "Everything okay?"
    She crossed her arms and gave him a tight smile. "Can you make extra beach rolls tonight? Mike is staying for a few days in the apartment over the garage. I was hoping he could join us for dinner."
    Tate forced a great big smile. "No problem," he lied.
    What is Tate's internal response?
    Tate panics and invites agent over.
    Tate feels guilty about coming between Mike and Lucy
    Tate doubts the relationship with Lucy will continue once summer ends

Tate feels guilty

    Tate set down the giant platter of lobster rolls for the world's most awkward dinner.
    "Yum, beach rolls!" Alexa rubbed her hands together. "Daddy, did you know Tate is a famous cooker?"
    Tate laughed, surprised at how pleased Alexa's pride made him.
    Mike waited for an explanation. Why did the Lucy's ex have to be so good looking? He'd been hoping for a rude, ugly brute.
    "Tate's a TV chef," Lucy said.
    Mike's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. So that's your place door?"
    "It's my agent's. I'm up here working on a cookbook."
    Mike smirked. "I bet you're getting a lot of work done."
    Lucy shot him a dirty look.
    Tate bit back the sarcastic comment he was going to make about the fun he'd been having instead of working.
    Alexa chattered on during dinner about all the clamshells she planned on decorating. "I sell them on the weekends, Daddy. Lemonade, too, and Mommy's driftwood."
    "I haven't bought one of your creations yet," Tate said.
    "I need to find some more shells, first. I'm all out," Alexa told him.
    Tate slapped his head. "We should boil some clams and you'll have all the shells you want."
    "Really? What are clams anyway?" Alexa took a huge bite of her beach roll.
    Lucy cringed. "Remember the lobster?" she whispered to Tate.
    He nodded. "Uh, they're the things that make shells."
    Alexa nodded, happy with the answer.
    "You want to look for shells?" Mike asked. "We can do that after dinner."
    "Yes! Mommy, will you come? Tate, you too?"
    Tate stood up. "Actually, I have to work on a few recipes tonight."
    "Then you can come, Mommy," Alexa said.
    Lucy crossed her arms. "I should help clean up."
    "We can all clean up," Mike said. "That way, you can join us, Lucy."
    "Maybe you'll find some driftwood," Alexa suggested.
    Lucy twisted her lips. "I do need some more."
    "What are you doing with driftwood?" Mike asked.
    Lucy walked over and picked up one of her creations from the railing of the deck. "We've been busy this summer making beach crafts." She explained to Mike.
    Mike took it, examining the smooth piece of wood with bits of old rope and shells glued to it. She'd added a few sparkly baubles here and there, and Tate thought her projects had a unique and upscale look.
    Mike set down the piece. "That's really neat. You always were so creative. I'll help you find some."
    After cleaning up, they walked off the deck toward the beach, and Lucy looked back at Tate. They shared a smile, and she walked away. Tate thought she, Mike, and Alexa looked like the perfect, beautiful family. He wished poor Alexa still had that. Even now, he could remember the TV episode of The Cosby Show he was watching when his parents had come into the family room, turned off the television, and told him they were getting a divorce.
    He'd been an only child, just like Alexa, but a little older - seven instead of five. Based on his own