Page 44 of For Butter or for Worse
She gasps, eyes going comically wide. “Really?”
“Yep. It’s probably hard to imagine, but King was all limbs back then.” I look at the wall of pictures behind me, hunting for one of my favorites. “Ah! Here he is. He’s probably fourteen or so in this one.”
The picture is one of Bill and King, both clutching surf boards and looking bedraggled. Like I told Emily, King is tall and gangly in his wetsuit, though it’s easy to tell that he’s starting to fill out with surfing muscles. His dark hair flops in his eyes, but his smile makes it clear he couldn’t be happier with his current situation.
Emily hurries over to check out the picture. “Oh my gosh, he’s so cute! I’ve never really looked at these pictures before.” She starts examining them all, taking in the documentation of Bill’s bakery from its humble beginnings up until what I’m guessing isn’t long before he died.
I look a little more closely as well, surprised to see how many pictures of King are on this wall. There’s a photo of eighteen-year-old King in a graduation gown, King cutting a ribbon in front of the newly renovated surf shack, King on the campus of Charleston Southern University. As they go along, the pictures are less and less about the bakery and more about the Kingston family, even if that family was just the two of them.
The picture with the surfboards was probably taken right before King’s mom died and Bill took him in. Bill was never annoyed that he had to take care of his nephew, and sometimes I was pretty sure he was grateful to have someone with him. Bill and I spent a lot of time together over the summers, and he was always so proud of the person King was becoming. He liked to say whoever earned King’s love would be a lucky person indeed, and he always had a mischievous glint in his eye when he did.
I don’t think I was lying when I told Mr. Vanderman that Bill wanted King and me to get together.
“Why did you guys take so long to get married?” Emily asks, still checking out the photos.
My answer comes more easily than I expect it to. “Because I was scared.”
“Scared of King?”
“Scared of missing out on the life I thought I was supposed to live.”
Emily giggles a little and returns to cleaning the countertop. “At least you figured out it doesn’t get better than being with King!”
Did I figure that out? A week ago, I would have said no, but every time he leaves the bakery with a warm smile, a part of me aches for him to stay. I’ve been more relaxed over the last week than I’ve been in years, and as much as I don’t want to admit it out loud, Willow Cove is starting to feel like home.
Maybe my dreams were all wrong. What if it wasn’t control I craved but knowing I would be okay even when things go wrong? I know I can find thatsafety with King because it has always been there. Since the day I met him. He’s the steadiest person I’ve ever known. What if I…
The bell above the door jingles, and excitement rushes through me when Cecily steps inside.
“Finally!” The word rushes out of me.
My friend lifts an eyebrow. “Finally?”
“I was starting to think you’d never show up.”
“You miss me that much?”
“Yes?”
Cecily’s grin turns devilish. “Why did that sound like a question, Georgie?”
It wasn’t supposed to be, and I don’t know why my heart rate has kicked up a notch. “It wasn’t a question! I’m always glad to see you, Cece.”
“You’re glad to see me because it means you get to see King.”
Absolutely. “Do I? I thought you were here to see me.”
“I am here to save your marriage.” She grabs my hand and starts dragging me to the door. “Emily, Meg and Rebecca will be here soon!”
While I’m glad Cecily made sure my teenage employee won’t be on her own, I get caught up on the first thing she said, nearly tripping over the doorway on the way out. “You meansolidifymy marriage, right?” This marriage won’t be lasting long enough for it to ever need saving.
My stomach twists.
In true Cecily fashion, she doesn’t say a word until we reach the surf shop. Though King is in the middle of a conversation with a girl who looks like she was born to surf—long, strong legs, glowing bronze skin, silky blonde hair running down her back in a thick braid—Cecily makes an announcement to the whole shop in her loudest voice. “Kingston, your next lesson is here!” Then she shoves me forward.
I squeak at the same time King’s eyes go wide. “What?” I gasp.
King swallows. “I thoughtyouwanted to learn, Cecily.”
