Page 30 of The Waiter at Table 6

Before the guy behind the counter can stop me, I turn and spray my last shot directly at Ryder’s chest.

The world erupts with sound. The guy behind the counter is stumbling through his scolding, Ryder is spluttering with indignation, and I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe. I barely get the water gun on the counter before I’m doubled over.

“I cannot believe you just?—”

“Miss, you can’t just?—”

And I don’t even care. I’ve never had this much fun.

In the end, the guy behind the counter succumbs to a chuckle of his own. Instead of holding my stuffed animal trophy hostage, he asks me which animal I want, and I manage to point at one of the manatees before I dissolve into laughter all over again.

Ryder’s smile is taking over his face by the time we walk off, though he’s also shaking his head at the giant wet spot in the middle of his chest.

“You might actually be worse than my sisters,” he muses.

My laughter finally dies long enough for me to say, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you know you were a good shot? Or was that another hole-in-one surprise?”

“Definitely a surprise.”

Ryder’s sigh is exaggerated. “This might be the end of my trying-new-things movement with you. I’m nervous to see what else you’re good at.”

My answer is instant and comes without thought. “I think I might be, too.”

I’m more surprised by my comment than Ryder. He simply nods in understanding and asks, “What else have you wanted to try?”

I mull over the question as we start toward the exit of the carnival. We’ve hit every food truck Ryder deemed worthy, and we’ve spent the last hour playing games, so it feels natural to stroll toward the main part of town.

“Are you going to think I’m trying to impress you if I say cooking lessons?” I ask, tilting my head up at him.

“Definitely,” he quips.

Shaking my head with a smile, I give him a serious answer. “It is actually cooking lessons. I make the best chocolate chip cookies?—”

“I’ll need proof of that,” Ryder interrupts shamelessly.

“—but I want to be able to cook a variety of really good meals,” I finish with only a scolding half-glance his way. “I’ve traveled to so many places and had so many different types of incredible food, but I’d love to make those delicious recipes myself.”

Ryder couldn’t tamp down on his excited grin even if he wanted to. “Well, you’re in luck, because I am an excellent teacher.”

I roll my eyes as a smile peeks through. “Of course you are.”

When he lightly pokes me in the side, I yelp, the sound immediately turning into a giggle. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he says in mock seriousness. When I merely continue to laugh, he asks, “What else do you want to try?”

My gut reaction has my laughter slowing. My mood doesn’t sober, necessarily, but the answer in my head has my thoughts drifting. To a different time—a different version of me. The me that always felt selfish wanting something for myself, that never put my own needs and desires above those of the other people in my life. If it didn’t make me a better wife, daughter, woman—I didn’t let myself think about it.

And maybe it’s the sugar high, or maybe it’s Ryder, but… “I’ve always wanted to learn how to pole dance,” I admit on a rushed exhale.

There’s a pause, and then…

“Okay, so…why haven’t you tried that yet?”

And even in its simplicity, it’s so non-judgmental that all the tension rushes from my body in a whoosh.

“I…have no idea.”

Ryder is either oblivious to my world tilting on its axis or simply blowing right by it in that take-it-in-stride way of his.

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