Page 93 of All The Way Under
“I didn’t take money from your dad, but I did promise to make you jump.”
“I am going to kill them all,” I blurt, noticing them all standing in a large window overlooking the dock, staring at us.
I give them a thumbs up. Mission complete.
Those fuckers have the audacity to cheer.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
saylor
“Why am I so nervous?My hands are actually clammy. I didn’t know that was a real thing. It’s absolutely disgusting,” I say, checking my outfit in a full-length mirror.
I’m at my parents’ house, in my childhood bedroom, because my date with Brody is tonight, and I wanted everyone around me for moral support.
My mother sips her drink from a chaise nearby.
“Because you’ve been waiting for this night for a year,” she says. “I think the other dress was toolook at me. This one is understated. You are beautiful in both, though. Which bikini did you put underneath?”
I lift the dress. “Baby pink crochet, not full coverage, not a thong, a cheeky bottom. Does it scream desperate?”
She shakes her head. “No, red is desperate. This is perfect. Oh, that reminds me. Let me fetch the box. The chauffeur went and picked it up from the jeweler.”
I got Brody a gift. Like, a proper love gift that I hope doesn’t freak him out. Mom comes back ten minutes later and hands it to me.
“I love you, Saylor. I don’t say it enough because something about saying those words itches my windpipes, but I love you, and I’m proud of you.”
I hug her. Bless this crazy woman. She would lay down her life for me, but maybe not if she was wearing couture.
“I love you too, Mom.”
This year changed all of us. Our perspectives shifted in a way that brought us closer. We understand each other more.
Brody was right. I needed this time. I needed him to set me free. I hated it, but the reality check saved us all.
“I say a lot of stuff about stuff, but follow your heart,” she whispers. “He’s not a dumb man. Don’t be nervous.”
I face myself in the mirror as she leaves, and I worry. I put on makeup and a pair of deck shoes, even though they don’t go with my dress, because they make more sense than wedges.
The drive to the marina is quick, and I park next to his truck. I toss the jewelry box into my tote bag with my laptop and transfer cords, because I’ll never go on the water without my programming again. I see the boat from the parking lot. Brody is on a step stool hanging lights as I walk up.
“Those friend lights look pretty romantic,” I say, letting my voice carry on the slight breeze.
He hooks the strand and steps down, turning with his hands on his hips.
He has on a white linen shirt and khaki shorts. His hair is longer than it was the last time I saw him, and there’s a five o’clock shadow around his jaw. He’s had time off.
He’s had time off, and he hasn’t called you, my subconscious hisses.
“You’re early,” he says. “And that dress doesn’t look very friend-like either,” he says, licking his lips.
Damn. I’m in trouble. Exactly where I want to be.
“Let me help you up.”
He extends his hand, and the view of him, at sunset, is something out of a fairy tale.
“I’ve been working on this all week long,” he says, pride evident. “I wanted it to be perfect for our date.”
