Page 107 of If All Else Sails
A simple question. One I feel like I should know the answer to by now. One I’m not sure Iwantthe answer to. It’s almost like we’ve been living in a little hockey-proof bubble.
Is it bad if I prefer it that way?
Considering the fact that Wyatt views hockey as a part of his identity...probably.
“Yes,” Wyatt says finally, and there’s no real justification for the swell of emotion this one word produces in me.
It’s his career. Something he’s good at. Something he loves. Why wouldn’t he go back?
And why am I so disappointed?
“My turn,” Wyatt says, yanking me out of my thoughts.
I tighten my fingers around the edge of the comforter, wishing I’d suggested we bet for something else. Like...bragging rights. Or candy. Even money.
Why did I think truth was a less valuable currency than money?
“How many bathing suits did you really buy for Jib?” Wyatt asks.
The question is as unexpected as the laugh that bursts out of me. “Seriously—that’s your first question?”
“Yes. And you have to tell the truth.”
“Are you going to judge me?” I ask.
“Definitely.”
I pause. “Only three.”
“Only?”
“No, wait! Only threebikinis. There’s also a one-piece. It’s a fifties pinup style—”
“Stop,” Wyatt says with a groan, dragging a hand over his face.
“—with ru?es and—”
Reaching over, Wyatt covers my mouth with his hand. I laugh behind it, my lips brushing his palm.
“I am sorry I asked,” he says. “So very sorry. Can we move on?”
I nod, and slowly he lifts his hand away from my face. I’m tempted to grab it and press it against my cheek. But I let him go.
Wyatt readjusts his pillows. And he scoots just a little closer to me. Not quite touching. But close enough that I can feel—or maybe I’m just imagining I feel—his warmth.
“Why did you stop wearing nail polish?”
Never in a million years would I have expected Wyatt to ask me about this. “You noticed my nail polish?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Yes.”
Maybe it shouldn’t, but his question throws me. Why did I stop wearing nail polish? And when? There was a time when I used to change bright colors week to week. When I started in nursing, I switched to more muted, standard colors. Then I wore no polish at all.
“I don’t think it was a conscious choice. It started to feel like too much.”
“Too much work?” Wyatt asks.
“No. Like...Iwas too much,” I confess. I’ve never thought about this until now, and I don’t like the realization.
