Page 119 of Spindrift

“Liar.”Emilia pulled away. “Lucky for you, I have an extra brush.”

“Anyreason in particular you’re spit shining this?” She tried to keep her tonecasual, but if Emilia was planning on selling the boat, Morgan needed to know.

“Stresscleaning.”

“That’sa thing?”

Emiliabrandished her brush like a weapon. “Stress cleaning is very much a thing.”

“Ican think of better ways to blow off steam,” said her idiotic mouth.

“Ibet you can. And you missed a spot over there.”

“Whyare you stressed?” Morgan asked as she doubled back.

“Whatam I not stressed about is the better question.” Emilia spoke to the deck andkept her face downcast as she answered.

Morganwaited for her to say more. When she didn’t, the feeling of dread grew.She’sleaving.The sunlight seemed to dim over the water, and Morgan resumedscrubbing.

“Didyou catch anything?”

“What?”Morgan asked.

“Youhave a fishing pole in your skiff.”

“Oh.No, I didn’t, or else I really would insist on cooking.”

“Wecould pick up some fresh mussels on our way back to my place,” said Emilia.

Katehadn’t liked shellfish. She tried to block out the comparison, but her mindseemed determined to ruin this evening one way or another. Kate also hadn’tliked fish, though she never objected when Morgan cooked it for herself.

“Willyou sell the boat?” she asked to shut her mind up.

“What?No. I mean . . .” Emilia trailed off. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“Youcould always lease it.”

Herbrow wrinkled, and Morgan longed to smooth it away. “God, all this is socomplicated.”

Itdoesn’t have to be,Morgan wanted to tell her. Instead, she said, “or you could sail away into thesunset. Live off your boat.”

“Nellwouldn’t like that.”

“Shecould play with the seals.”

“True.”Emilia’s smile brought light back into the evening. “And I also wanted to be apirate when I was little.”

“Ohyeah?”

“Ifyou make a joke about my booty, Morgan Donovan, I’ll throw you overboard.”

“Harsh.”

“Irun a tight ship.”

Thebrush fell from Morgan’s fingers. She stepped toward Emilia, who backed awaywith a coy smile until her back hit the mast. Morgan took the scrub brush fromher and sent it to join its mate on the deck.

Emiliaplaced her hands on Morgan’s shoulders. She moved to kiss her, but Emilia usedthe momentum of a passing wake to turn the tables on Morgan. She ended up witha cleat jabbing into her back and her head flush against the mast, halfsitting, half leaning on the bow with the boom to her left and Emilia Russobetween her legs.

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