Page 91 of Wanting a Family Man

“Is that what I am?” She sputtered out a helpless chuckle. “You know I envy you and your boring life here where nothing happens, right?”

“The grass is always greener on the other side of the strait.” She retook her chair and propped her chin on her hand. “For instance, as an only child, I am insanely jealous of your new siblings. Tell meeverything.”

*

What was thatold quote about the best of times and worst of times?

Trystan was living it.

Johnny’s cousin and his new wife came onto theStorm Ridgewhile they were docked in Bella Coola. They had grown up here and knew the waters and islands as well as anyone. They had just returned from living in Prince Rupert for several years—where they’d both worked as deck hands on fishing boats.

They needed work, a place to live, and the husband already had all the certifications he needed to step in as first mate. They were outgoing and instantly made friends with the guests.

Trystan called Reid and he said, “If you think they’re the right fit, make it happen.”

He did.

The couple promised to be in Bella Bella by Tuesday night so they could take over with Johnny on Wednesday morning.

“Now you can stay home and look after your girl,” Johnny teased Trystan later that night. Johnny was operating as captain this tour, so he was handing off the evening shift to Trystan, who was acting as first mate.

“Cloe’s not mine.” And she didn’t want him looking after her. That knowledge was sitting in his belly like gravel. “We’re just friends. I have to get back to filming.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my show’s been on hiatus. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“No, I mean… You couldn’t keep your eyes off her ass, which I admit is fine as hell.” He put up a hand. “I only noticed that by accident. Friends don’t ogle friends.” He winked. “But she was always bringing you coffee so I figured you two were a thing. I ship that, as the kids say,” he added with a twist of irony at the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, but I need to get my ship together before I ship with anyone.”

“Do what you think is best, man, but let me tell you, me and Nina were a mess when we got together. I had student loans up to here.” He touched his hairline. “Her grandma was in and out of hospital. We accidentally got pregnant so I moved her into the basement suite I was renting. It immediately flooded and ruined all her shit because it was still in boxes on the floor. In the middle of that, the guy she was working for won the lottery and folded up his business. Did he share the wealth? Hell, no. Not even a two-week severance check. He texted her not to come in and got on a plane. She’s never heard from him since. We still laugh about that. Like, anytime something shitty happens, we’re like, ‘Don’t come in. Won the lotto. Bye.’”

Trystan couldn’t help chuckling because what else could you do?

“Now we’ve got the babies and it’s a different chaos, especially with this job taking me away all week, but we never worry about whether we’ll get through it because we’ve already been through so much together. You never know what life will throw at you, Trys. Cloe’s nice and funny and seems to roll with whatever comes at her. Maybe don’t wait for the perfect conditions because they might not happen.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Trystan said sincerely. At the very least, he and Cloe had to make up. Knowing she was angry with him was eating him alive.

The pace of the summer was noticeably slowing when he tied up in Raven’s Cove. The wharf wasn’t as full and even though Randy, the apprentice, was walking by with a pipe wrench, he didn’t look to be in any big hurry, despite the light rain that was falling.

Trystan got through his top-level chores and was walking the bags of dirty linens to the lodge when he spied the golf cart parked next to the dry-dockedMissionary II.

Cloe wasn’t working on a Sunday, was she?

He dropped the laundry, then veered toward the boatyard, reminding himself not to scold as he climbed the ladder.

“Cloe? It’s me,” he called as he stepped onto the deck.

“I’m down here,” she called from a lower deck, voice muffled. “I’ll be up in a sec.”

He found her wearing eye protection and a respirator mask, rolling primer on a bunk. The rest of the cabin was already taped and wearing a coat of white.

“I’m almost done this cabin. Don’t kill your brain cells with this stuff,” she said in her muffled voice.

The paint was marine grade so it was heady, but the porthole was open and she had a big fan in the passageway keeping the air moving.

He picked up the brush and did the corner work, then tapped the can closed while she wrapped the brush and roller.

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