Page 70 of Our Long Days
I do that, admiring the bright orange bobber cresting the small ripples.
Dex sits again, ducking his chin, inviting me back to my seat.
It’s hot with the layers of rubber between us, mosquitoes buzz above our heads, and I’m sure there’s a bite on my left ankle. It’s the most perfect day.
“You’re a very good teacher,” I say, studying his side profile—the strong bridge of his nose, dark brown whiskers, the fine lines around his eyes.
“I’m invested.” He tucks me in closer.
“In fishing?”
“Nah.” He turns his gaze on me. “In you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
florence
The nervous drumof my fingers echoes through the service station restroom. Bleach and mildew have me breathing through my mouth, and the fluorescent lights highlight the dark circles under my eyes.
Best worst night’s sleep ever.
Dex pulled in for some gas on the short drive home. I told him I was going to freshen up, so hopefully, he’s not questioning my absence.
Biting the bullet, I stab at the Call button.
With three older brothers, I spent the better part of my childhood wishing for a sister. Johanna and Quinn fit that mold perfectly, but the last thing they need is my mess turning up on their door. Also, bless Quinn’s heart of gold, but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.
The phone rings three times before a raspy voice answers. “Did you forget time zones exist again?”
Alessandra Argiros is blunt, smart, and the exact voice of reason this predicament requires. Aly has grown to be someone I turn to over the last few months, even if it’s through the phone or text.
“It’s an emergency,” I whisper-shout.
There’s a pregnant pause. “Go on.”
“You know Dex?” My sneakers stick to the linoleum floor as I pace back and forth.
“I’m familiar with the tattooed carpenter.”
“Well…we slept together.”
Aly isn’t one for dramatics; there’s no shocked gasp or girlish squeal. “Didn’t that happen months ago?”
“Again.”
“Ah. I see one-time only didn’t stick.” Rustling bedsheets sound through the phone. “Didn’t you explain to him you weren’t interested in anything casual?”
I fiddle with the faucet, switching between a stream of hot and cold water. “He changed his mind.”
“Well, that was bound to happen.”
“That’s it?”
She sniffs. “I’m going to hazard a guess and say he’s worried what Patrick will think, and you’re going to keep your relationship a secret in the meantime.”
“You’re scarily perceptive.”
“I know. But that’s not why you’re calling. You’re scared…”
