Page 169 of The Love Haters

“But if it was my last conversation with you, I just wanted it to be a good one.”

“But it didn’t have to be our last conversation! If you would’ve helped me rescue you!”

“I was about to tell you,” I said. “But then my phone fell into the ocean.”

“That’s why you should have told me sooner!”

“What were you going to do?” I asked. “Call the Coast Guard?”

“Yeah! For starters!”

“I’d already called them. And they were busy, by the way.”

“I would’ve figured something out!”

“I’m sure you would’ve. But here’s the great news. I got rescued anyway.”

“Barely.”

“It counts.”

“The point is, if you have big news in your life, you’re supposed to tell me. And being adrift at sea on a sinking houseboat is big news!”

“Fine. Next time I’m on a sinking houseboat, I will tell you before my phone slides into the ocean.”

“Fine.”

She was a funny mixture of irritated with me and glad I was alive. All of which was fair.

“Next question,” I said then. “If I have other big news right now that I’m not sharing because you’re mad at me—should I go ahead and share it, or should I wait until you’re done being mad?”

“What other big news could you possibly have?” Beanie asked, as if life had a limited supply.

“It’s rescue-swimmer related.”

Beanie gasped. “Tell me.”

“Would you believe me,” I asked, “if I told you that of all the rescue swimmers in the entire US Coast Guard, the one who showed up to hoist me out of the ocean from the jaws of death in the nick of time just happened to be Hutch?”

“No,” Beanie said.

“Because I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.”

“Hutchwas the one who rescued you?”

“There’s a slight chance that I hallucinated it, but yes. Hutch rescued me. And then he kissed me midair between the ocean and the helicopter.”

“Now you have to marry him,” Beanie said, “so you can tell that story at the wedding.”

SO NOW Ilive at the Starlite. I bought a Dutch bicycle for tooling around town. And I hang out with The Gals in the evenings, and help cook dinner, and revel in the freedom of my newly conquered bathing-suit phobia.

More than that, I have fully given in to the Technicolor joy of a Vitamin Sea–based wardrobe. The horror I felt at my first sight of all those colors and prints and undulating fabrics? I barely remember it now. I’ve got a friends-and-family discount, and I walk around every day in colorful sundresses and skirts that flutter in the breeze.

Chromophobia conquered, too.

I’m like a tropical fish just floating along through my reef.

A tropical fish with all her black jeans and tees folded neatly in her bottom drawer just in case she needs them, but still.

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