Page 37 of Anyone But You
She shrugged casually. “What can I say? You grew on me like barnacles.”
I grinned. “May I ask you something?”
“May I say no?”
“You may not.”
“Gone ’head.”
“Why do you refer to me sometimes as That Man Over There?”
Victoria snorted, and soon, her sweet giggles followed behind it.
“I call you That Man Over There when I’m at my wits’ end with you. I’m so flustered that I don’t even want to say yourname. The ‘over there’ part comes from not wanting to be near you. Hence: That Man Over There.”
“That makes perfect sense. Thank you for clearing that mystery up for me.”
We finished our sumptuous meal, and I prepared the raft for my daily scavenging adventure. I was about to shove off when Victoria approached me.
“Will you bring me back something nice?”
My heart split in two because I could hear the hopefulness in her voice and see the pleading in her eyes.
“I will.”
She nodded, and I could tell she didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth.
And why should she?
“Here’s your water,” she said, offering me a few water bottles that were filled from the waterfall.
“Thank you. I’ll be back. Stay on the beach.”
And because it felt like the most natural thing to do, I kissed her. She tensed but eventually returned my affection. Besides touching and holding each other, we hadn’t been intimate since our first night on the island. Truthfully, we had bigger things to worry about, and I didn’t want to make her feel obligated to be affectionate with me. I figured it’d happen on its own time—when the moment was right.
This moment feels so fucking right.
I broke away first, leaving her a bit stunned, and shoved off into the water before she could call me a Dirty Old Bastard or That Man Over There. Instead, as I rowed away, I found her smiling as she grew in the distance. It was foolish of me to make her any promises, but I did, and I’d do my best to fulfill them.
11
Million-Dollar View
Victoria
“He has officially been promoted from That Man Over There to That Man Stranded Out at Sea because where the hell is he?” I growled, looking at the expanse of the ocean. I was trying not to freak out, but it was becoming late, and the orange raft was nowhere in sight.
I’ll never forgive that son of a bitch if something happened to him. We have a rule not to go farther than the wreckage. I shouldn’t have been so fucking self-righteous and ate the damn birds!
“He’s fine. That man is literally a roach. Him and his antennas will be back, bothering me, and keeping me sane,” I murmured. I had a strong urge to strap my life preserver on and swim out to the wreckage to search for him, but the voice in theback of my head was telling me to trust him and give him some time.
I left our “condo” with the “million-dollar view,” as Knox loved to call it, and checked on the sun-drying coconut meat I planned on turning into flour. I squatted over the drying mat Knox weaved together for me from palm fronds and rubbed the dried flakes between my fingers. Satisfied, I scooped the flakes onto a slab of rock and used another rock to grind them into fine pieces. I whistled the tune to “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” as I tried to remain upbeat about my task at hand. Later, I planned to make a crude pancake from the flour with some of the sweet fruit we found. Personally, I felt the little dry-ass cakes left much to be desired, but Knox always requested them, ate them with a smile, and sent his regards to the chef.
I paused my grinding to wipe away tears on the back of my arm. Since our arrival, there wasn’t a day when Knox didn’t tell me that he appreciated me and my efforts. It was all I ever wanted from him—an acknowledgment that my work mattered… thatImattered outside what I could do for others. That was always the role I found myself in, even as a child. My mother had deemed me the “responsible” and “independent” one when, in reality, I had more common sense than my older sisters, which translated to me taking on more burdens than my little shoulders should’ve borne. My problem was that I was too selfless for my own damn good.
I looked out at the ocean, and relief flooded my body when I spotted Knox in the distance. I never thought I’d live to see the day I was excited to see him — but in just a month, I’d gone from wishing he’d catch a case of crippling gout after an all-nighter to praying for his safe trip, his return, and… another kiss.
I wanted Knox…badly. It was something about how that man took care of me that made me as feral as my deceased cat, Nala, who would go into heat so severely that you’d findher with her ass tooted up in the air. She didn’t give a shit what was behind her—human, couch, cat-scratching post—she wanted it. My mom kicked her ass out for trying to throw it back on the Christmas tree. She said, “That freaky bitch has to go.” A few months later, I saw Nala happily trotting around the neighborhood with her full, heavy belly swaying.
