Page 101 of Tide Over

He chuckles softly, and I smile. He’s pulled me out of my own darkness so many times these past few days, it’s time I return the favour.

“Besides Raúl almost breaking the table last night, there’s not much to report,” he says.

I laugh. “Sore loser?”

“No, he won,” Liam replies. “He’s just a big guy who doesn’t know his own strength when he celebrates.”

I laugh, trying to picture big, burly oil rig workers getting so into ping-pong. “And when you win?”

“I accept my victory with grace,” he says simply.

“Oh, of course,” I say with another chuckle.

As we fall into another quiet moment, I let this one sit a bit longer. I take in the sound of his soft breaths on the other lineand wish more than anything I could reach right through this phone and hold him.

But the pain in my arm is growing quickly, and it’s starting to throb.

“I need to go take my meds,” I say reluctantly.

“That’s ok,” he says softly. “I’m just going to go to sleep. Give Miss Bobber a pat for me.”

I reach down and run my fingers through her fur as she yawns and stretches. “Already am.”

“Have a good sleep,” he says.

“You too.”

When we hang up, I open the camera on my phone, snap a picture of Miss Bobber and send it to him.

But before I can lock my screen, he sends a reply.

Liam: Thank you, mo chridhe.

I stare at the words as my eyes trace each letter. It’s the first time I’ve seen them written out, as I’ve only ever heard the beautiful, rolling sound of them on his lips.

Mo chridhe…

I type them into a search engine, and I’m suddenly filled with an overwhelming love for him as the translation appears before me.

My heart.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Theo

Mason wants to know if the shark tried to climb onto the metal island.

I laughwith a shake of my head, leaning against the platform railing as I tap out a reply. Sending a photo of a shark in the water didn’t seem like it would be such a big deal, but… with Mason, I should have known better.

He still can’t quite figure out the rig, can he…

I’ve even showed him pictures. I don’t know what else to do.

I huff out another laugh as I picture Mason at Sunday dinner, just losing his mind over the shark and the metal island while everyone is trying to eat. I sent the photo over an hour ago, and he’s still going. But I can only smile, because I’ll have more pictures of marine life to show him at Sunday dinner next week when I’m home.

Maybe we should just let him think it’s a floating metal island.

Probably for the best.

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