Page 99 of The Mistakes I've Made
I could barely be heard over the roar he was making. “I just thought, if I was going to be seen hanging around the town fisherman for the next month, I might want to learn.”
His laughter died down as the reality of our time together set in. I watched as he swallowed hard, his eyes meeting mine.
“Yeah, I’ll teach you,” he said, his fingers trailing down my face.
I felt like both of us were waiting, the words right there on the tip of our tongues.
What if I didn’t go?
What if I went with you?
But neither of us said it, neither of us capturing the moment while it dangled there in front of us, waiting to be caught.
Instead, we stood frozen in fear, worrying over what would be when our time together ended and life returned to normal.
But then again, what could ever be considered normal after meeting a man like Taylor Sutherland?
“So, what is this thing we’re doing today?” Leilani asked. “And why am I dressing up like a pirate?”
I chuckled, giving her a once-over as we both dressed, having commandeered the suite she’d made over in the hotel for our very own. We had also spent a few nights over at By the Bay over the last week, enjoying Molly’s scones and the killer dual-head shower.
We had yet to spend a single night at my place, however—a fact that neither of us had decided to bring up.
It was kind of like her impending deadline—when she would go back and present the plans to her father. We knew it was coming. We worked on it daily, yet we didn’t actually talk about it.
Ever.
“It’s a fall festival. By the Bay used to host it at the inn, but it got too big over the last few years, so they moved it to the streets.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“You really are a city girl, aren’t you?” I laughed.
“Okay,” she said, slipping into the long, old-fashioned dress, “but that still doesn’t explain why we’re dressing as pirates.”
I smiled. “Only one of us is dressing as a pirate, Pookie Bear,” I corrected her, knowing I’d always get a rise out of her when using that particular pet name. “You are just a woman.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Just a woman?”
“Sorry! What I meant to say is, you aren’t a pirate; you’re a woman. A specific woman.”
She didn’t look impressed.
“History lesson?” I said like it was a plea for mercy.
A smirk tugged at her lips. “Okay.”
“Every year at the fall festival, there is a theme when it comes to costumes. Molly, who still runs the whole thing, tends to go a little off the rails sometimes. Last year, being pregnant, she picked the color pink.”
“Pink was the theme? Like, just the color pink?”
“Yep. The whole town looked like an ad for Pepto-Bismol. It was crazy. Anyway, this year, she’s a little saner, and she went with historical characters. Anyone in history is fair game.”
“And you chose a pirate?” Again, her tone was less than pleased.
“Not just any pirate. I’m Blackbeard!”
She looked confused. “Like Jack Sparrow?”
