Page 58 of Sea La Vie
I giggle and take another sip of my coffee. “Of course I know how it ends,” I say. I steal another glance at him and notice his t-shirt is from UCLA. He catches me staring and sets his coffee on the side of the swing.
“From an intramural basketball game,” he explains.
“Ahh,” I mumble. We swing together in silence for a few minutes before I look at him again. “You haven’t told me much about your time in college,” I say.
He shrugs. “There’s not really much to say. I lived in a little apartment off-campus with my best friend, Jordan. Wait until you meet him. He’s something else,” he laughs as he shakes his head.
He’s thinking of me meeting his friends?
He picks his coffee back up and drains the last sip. “Anyway, yeah. That’s about it. I met Liv there, and well…you see how that ended.”
I cringe and he pulls me into his chest.
“You always smell like sunshine, vanilla, and the ocean,” he muffles. “You have ever since we were kids.” I want to smile, grateful that he’s taken note after all these years, but something pings inside my chest when he says, “I wish we could go back in time and get a redo. I would do a lot differently.”
I pull back and look directly into his eyes. “I don’t.”
His brows draw together, and a frown forms on his perfect lips that I had the pleasure of kissing last night.
“I mean, yeah, if I could go back, I would be much more supportive of your decision to chase your dreams. I wouldn'thave been such a brat about it. But also, I think we are who we are because of the choices we made without each other, too, you know?”
He considers this by drawing one corner of his mouth in. “Yeah, I guess so. It doesn’t stop me from being selfish and wanting you to myself for all that extra time, though.”
“We could always make the most of what time we have now?” I suggest.
“Lainey Adams, I would love nothing more.”
At his confession, warmth spreads across my chest like that first sip of whiskey, oozing into every limb until I feel drunk with happiness.
“We could start today?” I suggest. “Maybe go to the beach? Or we could finishYou’ve Got Mail?”
Tate’s face brightens for a beat before he deflates. “I would love to, but something came up and I really need to take care of it.”
“Okay,” I say. “Like what? Can you postpone it?”
“No,” Tate says, tapping his fingers along his thigh, staring at the ground, then the water, anything but me. “I’ve got one last meeting with the contractors.”
“Okay,” I say. “Maybe later then?”
“Later, yeah, for sure.” Tate gets up and holds out his coffee cup, his demeanor suddenly changed to something that has me uneasy. Is he hiding something from me? Maybe I’m expecting too much too soon from him. We haven’t even defined our situation yet, so of course he wouldn’t need to tell me his every plan. Tate’s phone buzzes along the railing and he flips it over and studies it.
“Well, what do you know,” he mumbles. “Emma’s son just emailed me back.” He flashes the phone in my direction, and I take a minute to read his reply.
Good morning Mr. Matthews,
I have to admit, I’m intrigued by your initial email. My mother, Emma, has only spoken a few times of her summer in Widow’s Wharf, but when she does, she does so fondly. I’ve reached out to her before replying to you to confirm she’s interested in visiting with your grandfather, and she says she would love to make the trip. Is there a day that works better for you? Give me a few days notice so I can clear my schedule, if you don’t mind.
I look forward to meeting you.
Graham
“Wow,” I say. “So it’s actually happening, then?”
Tate nods. “I think it is. I can’t wait to tell Grandpa. When do you think we should do it? Maybe Saturday?”
“Yeah, Saturday would be good,” I say.
“I need more coffee. Do you?”
