Page 53 of This Is Who I Am

“Sorry. What?”

“You were miles away but we don’t blame you.”

“Brain fog,” I say, although my brain has never been clearer.

Estelle slides her hand along the back of my neck and, instinctively, I lean into it.

“Sure,” Bobby says.

Despite this life-phase I’m going through, with all its discomforts, I haven’t been this ludicrously happy since long before menopause. Estelle’s hand on my neck. My friends teasing me about being smitten. And the memory of that insane climax strong in my body and my mind.

CHAPTER26

ESTELLE

It’s very different taking to the water with Cass’s gaze on me. She, Suzy, Hunter, and Bobby are leisurely sipping wine on the deck of The Bay, no doubt talking about me and of course I’m curious about what they’re saying. But I can’t focus on them. The waves don’t let me. Surfing is such an in-the-moment activity, demanding full-body control, that you can’t think about the woman you’re falling for. You can’t sneak backward glances while balancing on a surfboard. I tried earlier and paid the price—a complete wipeout, to Linda’s exuberant cheers.

But I know that Cass bought some lube today and that she’ll be keen to use it later. While it was glorious to have her come like that, it’s a delicate balance. Already, I feel I need to manage expectations. Already, there’s a complexity creeping into our feelings toward each other that can so easily cause a bunch of problems.

“Estelle, come on,” Sadie admonishes me. “Focus or you’ll drown.”

“That’s a bit dramatic.”

“The ocean does not reward half-heartedness.” She flashes her TV smile. “Although I get why you’re distracted.” She paddles closer toward me. “Cass is for later. You have all night together. This is now, okay?”

“Yes, boss.” Maybe this is exactly what I need. Something to take me out of my head because, when you’re like me, overthinking a situation becomes second nature. Sometimes, it even leads to thinking something to death before it has the chance to become something beautiful, and I don’t want that to happen with Cass. So I do as Sadie says. I obey the natural command she has when we’re in the ocean, trying to catch a wave. I block everything out, all the doubts, all the reasons for the many scars on my heart, all the papers I’ve yet to go through in my father’s house, all the different ways I’ve tried to approach the problem he set me and failed—and all the ways things can go wrong between me and Cass.

I’m not very good at surfing yet, but there’s a hint of promise when I try to catch a small wave and don’t topple off my board immediately. More than promise though, there’s a freedom to surfing that I seem to crave right now. A freedom from everything that has happened and has brought me here—even though it brought me to Cass.

On the board, you have to surrender. Your mind must go blank and you need to rely on instinct and muscle memory. To ride a wave, this gift from the ocean, is exhilarating and therapeutic at the same time. It’s exactly what I need right now.

“Don’t wait until next week to surf again,” Sadie says while we paddle back to shore. “The more you practice, the more fun you’ll have.” I catch her gaze. “There’s always a chance you’ll catch Devon and me in the water and we’re always willing to give you some tips.”

“I’ll take a private lesson from Sadie Ireland,” Linda hollers.

Cass will be busy with the restaurant when it opens again tomorrow. I promise myself to spend more time in the ocean instead of poring over my father’s papers which, I’m beginning to think, might be a waste of time. But to get rid of them is to say my final goodbye and I’m not ready for that yet, either.

* * *

“So.” Cass’s warm hand in mine feels right as we walk to her house. “What’s your friends’ verdict on me?” I ask.

“As I told you yesterday, they are all deeply and madly in love with you.”

“Even Suzy?” It’s a little naughty, but the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Maybe not Suzy, although she likes you very much.” Our steps slow. “Knowing her, she’ll want a one-on-one with you sooner rather than later.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Just to get to know you.”

“Not to question my motives?”

“That, too, I suppose.” Cass emits a small chuckle. “Hunter thinks you’re too good to be true, which is probably shallow gay for you being too hot for me, but it’s not politically correct to say that.”

“Jesus. Is he still in high school?” My reaction is sharp because I’ve been accused of ‘being too good to be true’ before.

“Sometimes, you’d think so.”

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