Page 43 of Seas the Dating Coach

I force a stale laugh, ignoring how his words chafe. Has Alec always spoken so callously about women? “I am.”

“Yes!” He aggressively hoots into the phone, forcing me to pull it away from my ear.

“But I can only stay out until nine-thirty.”

Alec grumbles, calling me a few emasculating names before we make plans on where to meet.

I intentionally lower my tense shoulders as I walk home. It doesn’t matter how I feel about this situation. Vivian and I are only friends, so maybe I should find someone else to kiss.

eighteen

Vivian

Idon’t realize that I’m standing on Miss Wendy’s doorstep until I see her seashell welcome mat beneath my sandals. Since I don’t usually visit on Friday evenings, I knock instead of letting myself in like I would on a Monday morning when I deliver her weekly fresh flowers.

My lips downturn, hearing heavy cane-assisted steps toward the door. Wendy didn’t tell me she was having issues with mobility. I hadn’t thought to ask since she’d been seated in her cozy sunroom with a cup of coffee when I’d been by earlier this week.

“It’s about time.” The door flies open, Carol Cook’s tattooed eyebrows slashing low with disapproval. “Vivian.” Her expression softens. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Come in.”

I shouldn't be surprised to find Carol here on a Friday evening. Her and Wendy have been best friends since their moms usedto sit on town council together. This was before the town was fully absorbed into the larger city beyond and council members became social figureheads instead of those who held elected power. Young Wendy split her piece of gum in half, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.

Carol pulls me inside with a surprisingly strong grip, the door closing behind us with a snick. “Wendy’s waiting for Nick to stop by and fix her bathroom sink, but he’s late.” She grumbles something unintelligible that sounds a lot likegood-for-nothing louse.

“Carol, stop.” Wendy breezes around the corner in a bespoke sundress similar in color to the one I’m wearing. It effortlessly complements her faded blue eyes and the long white braid over her shoulder. “Nick added me on after he finishes work for the day. He’ll get here when he gets here. You know that boy won’t charge me, anyway.”

Nick Watson, a foreman for WB renovations, has a notorious soft spot for sweet old ladies. He’s even fond of Carol, though she’d rather run him over with her white Pontiac.

Carol harrumphs, pushing back the lace curtain to peer into the lane.

“What brings you by?” I’m enveloped in a rose-water-scented hug so warm and firm that my eyes mist.

It’s not until I’m wrapped in Wendy’s comforting embrace that I realize I’m here to spill my guts about everything. My ocean wish. The whole situation with Atticus. The covert dress collection. My weird entanglement with Finn. The still-secret plan to get off the island for the first timeever.

I can’t talk to Brynn without spilling the beans about the Oceanside Artisan Fair and ruining everything. Wendy has always been a good listener. It was her who I first started speaking to after Brynn and Aunt Tammy, though I’ve never fully unburdened myself like I want to now.

“It’s, um…

Wendy pulls back, surveying me with a soft gaze.

“I’m just so confused.”

I thought Finn and I were friends. But a friend wouldn’t press into my space with a flirty smile, or stare at my skin like it’s buttercream icing, or call me gorgeous in a way that vibrates into my bones.

What’s a woman to do?

No, what amIsupposed to do? Because an average woman might have a ghost of a chance in this situation, but I have absolutely no defenses against someone as inconceivably attractive as Finn, especially when he’s acting like I’m the person who lights up his day.

Because in that moment, Iwantedhis lips back on mine, his hands in my hair, his firm chest flush against me. And I’m not allowed to want those things. Those things are impossible. Finn is not mine to have.

Thank goodness Letitia showed up and stopped me from embarrassing myself.

Fiery indignation licks at my agitated muscles the more I think about it. I’ve asked Finn not to toy with me—more than once. And what’s with him pretending to be upset whenever I mention Atticus? As if Atticus isn’t the whole reason that we’re even spending time together. It was Finn that suggested this…this arrangement, not me. I’d call the whole thing off right now if I wasn’t dependent on him to get to the fair tomorrow.

The words are seconds from exploding from my mouth. Who cares that the town’s gossip queen is within earshot?

My lips part, but I’m saved by the literal bell when Miss Wendy’s old-fashioned doorbell rings. Carol—it seems—had been solely focused on us and missed Nick’s truck pulling up in front of the house. When I catch her hovering beside Wendy’santique tea table—obviously eavesdropping—instead of by the window, she simply shrugs before marching toward the door.

“You’re late,” Carol barks in greeting.

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