Page 42 of Sea La Vie
“Get your mind out of the gutter!” Lucille swats my arm then grabs ahold of my ear. “Sid’s known that girl her entire life. He’s her dad’s best friend, practically her uncle. He helped raise her. We all did after her mom passed away.” Behind her bifocals, her eyes grow misty and she blinks rapidly in an attempt to clear them.
“Oh,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say. I was with Lainey when she found out the news, but that was the last day I was in town. I didn’t get to stay for the funeral, no matter how much I begged my parents, and when I finally called Lainey after we made it home, she didn’t want to talk about it. So, I’ve never known about the specifics and never wanted to bring it up and open old wounds.
“‘Oh’ is right,” she harrumphs. “You break her heart, I’ll break you. Capeesh?” She drags the thumb of her free hand across her neck, her Revlon-red lips curling into a snarl.
“Um…capeesh,” I say and side eye her hand still grasping my ear lobe. Reluctantly, she lets go and storms away, all five feet of her moving surprisingly fast.
17
Lainey
“Ican’t believe you won the bingo grand prize,” I lament a few days later, as the steam from my coffee curls above my mug, mingling with the steam from Tate’s. That night we had played bingo until the crowds cleared, then we stayed even longer, talking and goofing off until the clean-up crew kicked us out. Then Tate danced, laughed, and sang in a terrible voice along with the music playing from the speakers over Water Street until they shut off sometime around eleven. He even whisked me into the middle of the street, grabbing my hand, and insisting I dance with him for the very last song they played:Beat This Summerby Brad Paisley. It was almosttooperfect—a cliche you’d see only in the movies—but I loved every second of it.
As we swayed together under a flickering lamp post, the bullfrogs croaking and fireflies dancing around us, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—happiness.I mean sure, I was happy. I have lived a great life on the coast with my brothersand my dad in a town I love. But not having to worry about anything or anyone for one carefree night…it was amazing.
Tate seems to bring out the best in me. When I am with him, I can’t help but laugh and smile. It’s like his personality is contagious, his smiles and laughter infectious. I want more of this feeling…I want more of Tate. The walls I've built up around my heart that I thought were so strong are quickly crashing down as we spend more time together. And that is terrifying.
“Well, I did tell you I was a bingo champ,” Tate says and takes a sip of Eden’s special. She’s named this one ‘Smitten Sugar Apple Iced Tea’. She clearly thinks she is hilarious. “Are you ready to go?” he asks.
“I’m going with you?” I ask, secretly pleased he’s asked. The grand prize had been a day of sailing around the Outer Banks this weekend and a picnic catered by a restaurant out of Morehead City.
“Of course you’re coming with me,” he says. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like it was as easy for him to say that as, “The sky is blue,” or, “The grass is green,” or, “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Maybe I got a little carried away with that last one, but a girl can dream.
I pretend to think about how busy my schedule is when, in reality, it’s the complete opposite. The weather has been so weird and the water so choppy, I haven’t been able to fish much, which has put us us even further into the red. This is the first nice day we’ve had all season, and a rock lodges in my throat at the thought of giving up the potential to bring in some fish for a big paycheck.
Tate looks so excited though, like a puppy whose owner just came home. His eyes are wide, impatient for my answer, and a thrill runs through me that he’s as eager to spend time with me as I am with him.
I swallow hard, push away the thoughts of the family business I’m desperate to revive, and say instead, “Let’s do it.”
Tateisleaving after he finishes restoring his family’s cottage and finds a buyer, after all, and I might not have this chance ever again. Having a few weeks of carefree fun isn’t so bad, is it? I can spend time with Tate, no strings attached, and watch him walk away without getting my heart broken again…can’t I?
“Are we all set?” The captain asks and glances between Tate and me. I can tell he’s trying to hide a grin when he looks over at Tate.
Tate’s peering over the edge of the boat so far, his feet are off the deck. “Lainey! Did you see that?! I swear I just saw a great white.” He rights himself and adjusts the towel slung around his neck. “This is going to be great,” he says, smiling wide enough for me to see the peppermint gum he’s chewing. The captain leaves us at the front of the boat and disappears behind the wheel.
“Mhm,” I agree, noticing that he’s left a spot of sunscreen right above his upper lip. Without thinking, I reach my finger out and lightly touch it.
Tate’s breath hitches, and he catches my finger. “You look beautiful, Lainey.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks and wondering how much truth there is in Tate's admission. He must recognize my skepticism because he tips my chin up with his fingers and says, “You truly do.”
I let out a self-deprecating snort and glance down at what I’m wearing. “I’m pretty sure these old faded cutoffs were Huck’s at some point, and this bikini is from four seasons ago.”
The captain maneuvers the boat out of the harbor, and as the wind begins to pick up, the speed of our boat does, too. Tate spreads his towel down and pats the spot next to him for me to sit.
“I don’t think it’s so much about what you’re wearing,” he says. “I think it’s more about who you are. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you again, Lainey,” he says. “But youarebeautiful, inside and out.” He shoots me a wink, and I find my cheeks heating again, despite the breeze blowing around us.
“Look over there.” I point just below the horizon. Two dolphins are jumping and playing with each other, as if putting on a show for us.
“That’s amazing!” Tate says. “This is practically your backyard. Does it ever get old?”
I consider his question by tapping a finger to my chin. “No, it really doesn’t,” I answer. “I love it here. Even if this town wasn’t my home, I think I’d still love it here. The city just isn’t my thing.” I shrug one shoulder. “Too much noise and hustle and bustle.”
“I get that,” Tate says.
“I enjoy visiting, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t think I could live there. There’s something about the slower pace of life here that fits me more. I think I’d feel too trapped.”
“You’d hate my apartment,” Tate chuckles. “It’s in the middle of the city, overlooking downtown. Wall to wall windows with modern, industrial touches.”
