Page 71 of Seas the Dating Coach

“Here you go.” Sandy drops off my iced coffee with an unexpected treat—a plate of iced sugar cookies shaped like surfboards.

I balance all three items, carrying them to where Summer has been politely waiting. She sighs wistfully as I set down her coffee.

“Is it as magical as I imagine having unlimited access to delicious coffee and sweets every day?”

A laugh bubbles from me, unrestrained. “Absolutely.”

Summer takes a large gulp of her coffee, licking whipped cream from her upper lip. “I’m so glad you called me.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling. “Me too.”

It’s not until I’m seated across from her that I notice Summer has a smear of paint across her brow. Speckles of sky blue also dot her running tank.

“Are you working on a home project today?”

Summer has been slowly repairing her grandmother’s dilapidated cottage, often with her boyfriend, Nick’s, help.

“I’m repainting the bathroom.” She nods before gripping her mug with both hands and leaning in. “But can we talk about your crush upgrade? Nothing against Atticus, of course, but”—Summer lets out a low whistle—“if I wasn’t madly in love with Nick…”

I chuckle as her sentence drops off.

“You seem really happy,” she adds, her smile softening in that maternal way of hers even though Summer is only a few years older than me. It’s probably a trait she’s gained from being a beloved pediatrician.

“I am.” The honesty of the statement feels revolutionary, like some crucial change clicks behind my breastbone.

We chat about her work and mine, gossip about the rumors about Atticus and Amanda, and by the time Nick’s phone call interrupts with Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” ringtone, asking if she needs anything from the mainland, my heart is so full I feel short of breath.

And when I give Brynn a quick hug after Summer leaves and head back to my shop, Lidia Prescott arrives with a sumptuous Regency gown for me to alter. I take her measurements, easily chatting all the while. Then I crank my Raven Sacaria playlist and get to work. As I adjust the decadent bodice, a small grin lifts my lips. After all these good things happening today, I’m going to end the day with another big “first.”

I just haven’t told Finn yet.

thirty-one

Finn

As I walk home after work, the warm summer air feels like it’s congealing in my lungs. I suck in a deep breath, reminding myself of Vivian’s words—that I won’t be submerged. Though I haven’t been inside a bathtub since I was eight, she’s right in that my larger size makes drowning impossible.

Over the years, I’ve tried to get over this fear. But whenever I wade to my waist, searing panic has me retreating toward my towel. Since then, I make excuses for not getting all the way in at the pool or the beach. It’s surprisingly easy to avoid swimming, even when you live oceanside.

Thoughts of canceling swirled all morning. After all, Vivian said I didn’t have to go through with this if I didn’t want to. But when I returned to my office after lunch, three children’s board books—each about learning to swim—were stacked neatly in the center of my desk. The mystical library hadn’t been wrongsteering me toward Regency romances, so as odd as it feels, I’m going to trust its guidance once more.

As I turn the corner of my rental into the open backyard, lingering panic abates. In its place, my heart stumbles off a balcony and falls six stories. Vivian has foregone the deck furniture and stretches out on the topmost stair, bracing her arms behind her. The most decadent expression graces her features as she tilts her chin toward the evening sun. Her lashes fan on her cheeks as a blissful smile graces her mouth. My phone is out before I think twice about it, snapping a quick picture.

Vivian must hear me approaching, because she tilts her head in my direction, a few curls tumbling over her simple purple dress as I pocket my phone. “Hey.”

It requires effort to keep my pace casual and not sprint to her side when that broad smile—the one just for me—splits her face.

“Hey.” My words are chalky, so I clear my throat. A dozen flirty remarks present themselves, but I end up saying the thought that won’t leave me alone. “Just sit in shallow water?”

Vivian’s gaze turns tender as she pats the space beside her. I set aside my shoulder bag and accept her invitation, gazing at the tranquil bay water but not feeling calm in the least.

“Do you ever sit out here and read?”

“All the time.” It’s no longer a surprise when I answer with the truth. Vivian is about to see the most raw and vulnerable part of me. I’d thought my love for literary antiquities was something that needed to be hidden, but nothing is as revealing as the fear Vivian is about to witness.

“Would you be interested in watching theWorthingtonseries with me?”

“Sure,” I tell her, unsure where this line of questioning is going. I’d assumed I’d change into a swimsuit the second I got home so we could get the aqueous torture done before we could both finally relax after a long week.

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