Page 59 of Diving In

I tried to fish through his words for an answer as to how we’d known each other, but I was drawing a blank once again. I scoured my brain, searching for any familiarity surrounding him, but I came up empty-handed.

“I get it, it’s been years.” He chuckled before speaking again. “I’m Goldie Nelson’s grandson. We all used to run around the island together during the summers, most of the time ending up at the arcade on the pier.”

“Ms. Nelson,” I mumbled under my breath. “Holy shit, Matthew, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

“It could be the beard, or maybe the three-foot height difference from the last time you saw me,” he joked before folding his arms across his chest.

“Your grandmother always bragged about you, saying you’d be the next Top Chef.”

“She was never a woman of few words, that’s for sure.”

“Was?”

His smile saddened, answering the question that I had planned on asking next. “Goldie passed away a few years back. The cancer took her quickly. Although, I’ve always believed she died of a broken heart, because it was only a few weeks after my grandfather passed that she left us too.”

“I’m so sorry, Matthew. Your grandmother was one of the most special humans I’ve ever known. She was truly too good for this world. I’m sorry for your loss, but you have to know that she shaped the lives of so many while she was here—especially my brother’s and mine. I can only imagine how proud of you she is, watching you from up there.”

“Thanks, G. That really means a lot.” He hesitated before continuing, “The same could be said for Jack. I don’t know where this town would be without him. I’m equally glad that you made it back here to the island, to Jack’s, and to the restaurant.”

“Me too,” I said, and I realized that I wasn’t even lying.

“Jack was my first ever customer. He only ever had the lobster bisque, but he’d come in almost every day to have a bowl. In fact, this was his favorite table to sit at.” Matthew gazed out the window. “He always said it was because the salty air paired nicely with his soup, but really I think it was because it gave him a crystal-clear view of that spot.” He lifted his hand and pointed in the direction of a tiny island located just off the coast, probably a ten-minute boat ride from the marina. “I wonder if he ever made it back to that dive spot,” Matthew asked like a question, even though he surely knew I wouldn’t have the answer.

I looked a little harder at the island he’d pointed to and noticed the buoy just north of it, dancing recklessly around the water.

I knew that island.

I fucking hated that island.

I’m not sure how I didn’t put two and two together right away. That weathered buoy had haunted my nightmares for so long. It was there to signal a shipwreck located meters below the surface, and it had been Jack and Fletcher’s favorite diving spot.

But more than that, that worthless piece of polymer will forever indicate the place that had so suddenly taken Fletcher from me. It was a constant reminder that he was gone, a permanent marker of the spot that I never wanted to see again.

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve been back here,” I said, trying to offer something through my turmoil.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Well, I won’t keep you from enjoying your food any longer, but I do have one last thing…” He trailed off as he dug into his pocket, pulling out a white envelope. “Jack wanted me to hold onto this until you made your way back home.”

I grabbed the letter from his hands and mumbled a “Thank you” before managing to look at him again.

“Well, I’d better get back to the kitchen now. It was really good to see you again, G. Take care,” he said genuinely.

“You too, Matthew. It was really good to see you. Thank you for holding on to this.”

He nodded at both Ian and I before turning around and walking away. Although, Ian hadn’t noticed because whatever was on his phone was clearly more important than being polite.

My hand traced the letters on the front of the envelope as I tucked it into my lap. Half of me wanted to rip it open and read it right here, but the other half of me needed to not open it in front of Ian.

Every fiber of my being wanted to call Cal and tell him I got the third letter, and when I glanced up and saw Ian sitting across from me, my heart stuttered. I tried for a smile, but it felt wrong.

“You’re not going to read it?” Ian questioned.

“I am. I just need a minute,” I snapped back.

We both took our silverware and began eating, sharing very minimal conversation over the course of the next fifteen minutes or so.

This was in fact the best damn lobster bisque I’d ever had. I finished what was in front of me before folding my napkin and placing it in the bowl, pushing the entire plate to the side of our table, signifying to our waitress that I was finished.

“If you want to grab the check, I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Ian said awkwardly as he stood up.

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