Page 29 of Broken Hearts

Chuckling, I say, “Honestly, everything.”

She glances across the table at me. “So what would you and my dad eat then?” she now asks. “Let’s order that.”

“Okay,” I say, giving her a small smile.

When the server returns with our drinks, I put in an order for the street taco platter for two, elote, queso, salsa and tortilla chips and the beef burrito.

“Um, okay, so that’s a lot of food,” Sage says, holding up her glass.

“Yeah,” I reply, doing the same, the two of us clinking them together. “We were always starving after surfing, so… You don’t have to pay for it all or whatever.”

“No, no,” she says, waving a hand as she takes a sip of her drink. “Holy shit, that’s good,” she murmurs. “And yes, it’s on me, dinner I mean.”

I smile, not saying anything as I take a mouthful of the cold liquid, loving the sour taste.

“So, does your family live in Hawaii?” Sage suddenly asks, and I nearly choke on my margarita. “Shit, are you okay?” she asks, halfway out of her chair.

I cough into my hand, nodding as if to tell her I am. “Yeah, fine,” I eventually get out.

She watches me, her eyes wide, as she waits for me to answer. When I don’t say anything, she prompts me again, with a “Nate?”

I take another mouthful of my drink, wondering if this was her plan all along, to get me out in public, get a few drinks into me so she could ask all the questions that were undoubtedly running through her head when I told her about how I first met Mitch this afternoon.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I eventually say.

“What?” she asks, clearly surprised.

I shrug, taking yet another mouthful. “Don’t really know my family.”

“You were…” She trails off as though she’s searching for the right word before eventually settling on one. “Adopted?”

I shake my head, lifting my drink again only to find it’s now empty. Signaling to the server, I wait until they’re standing beside the table before ordering us both another drink, even though Sage is only halfway through hers. When the server leaves, I turn back to find Sage watching me still, an expectant look on her face.

Chuckling, I reply, “Not adopted and did anyone ever tell you, you’re kinda?—”

“Nosy?” she prompts.

With another laugh, I shake my head as I say, “I was gonna say ruthless, but yeah, I guess nosy also works.”

Sage smirks at that, finishing off her drink just as our new ones and the food arrive. “Yeah, okay, maybe I’ve heard that too, but honestly, if you’d met my mom, you’d know where I get it from.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not Mitch,” I say, smiling, remembering how Mitch never pushed me to tell him anything. Instead, he just gave me space and time, creating an environment where I felt safe to start that conversation.

“Tell me more about him,” she now says, and I exhale, grateful for the subject change.

We spend the next couple of hours and several more margaritas talking about Mitch. Sage asks me a million questions about him, but this time steering clear of anything directly related to me and how we met or how I came to be living in his guesthouse or working in his shop.

I’m grateful because I honestly wouldn’t know how to tell her. How to tell her that her dad basically saved my life, even if it seems as though he was barely in hers.

By the time we are done, we’re both stuffed with food and a little drunk.

“See, not so much food after all,” I say, gesturing to the empty plates in front of us.

Sage giggles as she finishes her drink, the last of the liquid making a slurping noise as she sucks it through her straw. It draws my attention to her mouth, and clearly, I must be drunk too because once again, all I can think about is what it would be like to kiss that mouth.

“I am so full,” she moans as she lowers her now empty glass to the table.

I smile, my eyes still on her mouth as I say, “Yeah, maybe a little drunk too.”

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