Page 97 of If All Else Sails
I want to reach for him but still don’t feel fully comfortable. Holding hands this morning doesn’t mean it’s now on the table to hold hands any old time. It’s much easier when he initiates, which just shows how much I’ve grown to trust him.
When I find his foot under the table and press mine to the top of it, his gaze snaps back to mine.
“If you want company, let me know,” I say. “But no pressure if it’s something you’d rather do alone.”
“I’d like company,” he says. “If it wouldn’t be too weird for you.”
“Less weird than keeping him in the fridge in a Cool Whip container.”
He barks a short laugh, and I grin, delighted.
We’re interrupted when the hostess, who definitely recognized Wyatt and fangirled no small amount when we sat down, appears at our table with a package in her hands. I’m instantly annoyed. Partly because she’s shaken her blond hair loose around her shoulders and added more eye makeup.
But also because she’s bringing a gift for him. I’m tempted to stab her with the tines of my fork.
But how did she get something for Wyatt? Especially since it looks like a FedEx package. I squint, trying to read the address.
“The dockmaster said this arrived for you,” she says, holding out the box to Wyatt with a smile.
The package has a stamped label saying it’s been rush-shipped. One corner looks a little smushed, so I hope it’s not breakable.Wyatt takes it with a nod, not even glancing up at her. Disappointment makes her wilt, shoulders drooping. I almost feel bad for her.
But not quite.
When she lingers by the table, Wyatt says, “Thank you,” in a firm voice that sends her scampering back to the podium.
“You got a package delivered here?” I ask, and Wyatt nods, frowning at the damaged corner of the box. “I didn’t know we could do that.”
“Don’t even think about ordering more clothes for Jib.” He gives me a stern look.
“I wasn’t.” I totally was. “Did we forget something we need for the boat?”
“Yes.” Wyatt holds my gaze as he hands me the package. I stare at it, blinking. “For me?”
Wyatt only nods, and I take the box, hesitating. I want to tear it open, thrilled at the idea of a surprise but also strangely overwhelmed by the gesture. My heart is doing something weird in my chest, and there’s a rushing sound in my ears.
I swallow, then grab my unused butter knife and slice through the tape.
When I get the box open and move aside the tissue paper, I can only stare inside. Words fail me.
“They’re boat shoes,” Wyatt says.
Indeed, they are. I recognized what they were as soon as I opened the box. A light brown leather top with white rubber soles, they’re a less broken-in version of Wyatt’s. It’s notwhatthey are that made me freeze.
It’s thewhyof it.
“You bought me boat shoes...and had them shipped here.” It’s a question, but it comes out like a statement.
I can’t look at him. The intensity of my emotional reaction is too much. I think if I move at all, I might burst into tears.
So, I just sit there, the noise of the restaurant buzzing around me, the smell of salt hanging in the air, and my hands gripping the box of new boat shoes in my exact size that Wyatt had shipped here. For me.
“They’re just shoes,” he says, but when I look at him, it’s clear neither of us believes that.
Chapter23
A Three-Letter Word
Josie
