Page 9 of Made For You

“It’s called a cleat.” I nod at her. “The first thing you have to do,” I instruct, unlooping the rope from the cleat, “is have your rope at an angle to the cleat.” I show her. “Passing it under the far side of the cleat, and then wrapping it around your hand to do a circle.” I show her the loop I just made. “Tying it to the other side of the cleat.” I put the loop around the cleat and pull it closed. “And then repeat it on the back side.” I do another loop and then tie it to the other side. “And that’s it,” I say to her and she looks at me.

“But is it sturdy enough?” she asks me and I nod at her.

“If it makes you feel better, you can do as many loops as you want,” I tell her, undoing the loops now and letting the rope loose.

“What are you doing?” she asks me, shocked as she sees her boat untied again.

“I was showing you how to do it. Now it’s your turn.” I hand her the rope and she just looks at me. “I’m right here if you fuck up.”

“Well, that’s very encouraging,” she mumbles, and it makes me want to laugh out loud but instead I just watch her hands. “Pull,” she talks to herself. “Angle.” She repeats what I did. “Loop de loop.” She makes up her own words. “And stick it in the hole,” she says as she puts the loop around the cleat, “and repeat.” She then looks at me. “I’m going to do three for good measure,” she tells me and does another loop. “And boom.” She does the “throw down the mic” action.

“What boat did you have before this?” I ask her as I rise up. She stands up beside me, looking down at her handiwork.

“Um,” she says, “this is boat number one.” She holds up one finger.

“You didn’t have a boat before this?” My eyebrows pinch together.

“That would be correct.” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t think these ropes are going to move.” She ignores the shock that is all over my face and walks past me to the middle cleat. “I’m going to tie this one.”

“You don’t need to,” I inform her, but of course she ignores me and does what she wants to do. “But of course, do what you want,” I mumble.

“Thanks, Mr. G,” she says to me and I just stare at her.

“Mr. G?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

“I call you Mr. Grumpy,” she admits to me without an ounce of embarrassment. “But I figured it was rude, so I shortened it.”

“Good call.” I shake my head, walking past her toward the back of her boat. I look over and see Beatrice lying on the back of my boat. “You bought this boat?” I stop and look over at her.

“That I did.” She smiles as she walks over to me. I see that her toenails are painted a bright red.

“Do you know how to drive it?” I ask her, even though it’s none of my business.

“I have a license.” She cocks her head and glares at me. I just raise my eyebrows. “I have a captain coming to show me the ins and outs of the boat,” she informs me, “so eventually I’ll know how to drive it.” She walks past me and gets on her boat. “The boat seems more secure,” she says to me. “Now I have to go have a piece of pie.” She smiles at me.

She walks to the sliding door and opens it, and before she steps into it, I speak up. “Xavier,” I say, walking over to my boat with her looking at me, “instead of Mr. Grumpy.” I get on my boat and Beatrice comes off the bench. I look over at her. “Or Mr. G.” I walk over to the door, opening it, and stepping in, leaving her just staring at me.

I step into the cabin and look at Beatrice. “Now what did I do wrong?” I ask her as I walk over to her bowl picking it up. “I can tell you. I did rule number one and rule number two completely wrong, and I even messed up rule number three.” I put food in the bowl and then place it in front of her. “It wasn’t my problem and I didn’t have to fix it.” I stand. “But in my defense, I did it more for me than her.” Beatrice ignores me and my struggles. “She could have hit my boat,” I huff to her, walking over to the fridge. “You think she’s alone on that boat?” I look out the window at her boat and the shades are closed, so I can’t see anything. “Jesus, I’m a Peeping fucking Tom.” I shake my head.

Beatrice looks up once she finishes eating. “You want a cookie?” I ask her and she wags her tail. “This is from the lady next door.” I open the drawer and take a cookie out, holding it to her. “Sit,” I instruct her and she sits, but her tail still wags and makes knocking noises. “We don’t like her,” I remind her. “Right?” I ask her and she just gently takes the cookie from my hand. “She calledmegrumpy?” I put my hands on my hips. “Me, grumpy,” I huff, looking at Beatrice.

I can’t even put into words how I feel right now. I’m like a full-blown ball of emotions. I’m angry but then irritated and that is making me angry. I think about the words my therapist said: talk it out, put pros and cons to everything. “Could I have been nicer to her?” I say, walking back and taking another bite of the pie. “Sure, I guess.”

Beatrice sighs at me and walks over to her bed and lies down with a snort. “Could I have offered her advice?” I look up. “Probably.” I sigh. “Did I judge her for buying a boat without knowing how to drive it? Yes. Did I do the same thing? Again, yes.”

I take my fork and take another piece of the pie. “Will I try to be nicer to her? No,” I admit. “Will I be cordial? Fine.” I look at Beatrice. “Only because she likes you.” I chew the bite of pie. “Will I let her get to me?” I look out the window toward her boat. “Absolutely not,” I vow. Beatrice sticks her head up now and barks at me, probably calling me on my bullshit. “Oh, please, whose side are you on?”

CHAPTER7

VIVIENNE

I walkinto the boat before he says another word. “Xavier,” I mumble his name, putting my phone on the counter. “Definitely not a name I would give him,” I say, walking to the back of my room and stripping off the wet clothes and putting them in the sink. I turn on the shower. “Xavier,” I repeat his name again, touching the water to make sure it’s hot enough before I step inside.

Closing my eyes as I let the hot water rush over me, I still hear his voice. “What the fuck?” I swear. At that moment, I wish it was anyone else but him. I would have even gone with the asshole I last dated, who decided we were going to have an open relationship and never told me until I caught him with his dick in a blonde’s mouth. At that point, I would have gone with every single ex I’d ever had instead of him.

I step out of the shower, grabbing the towel I hung up the night before and wrapping it around myself. Walking out to start another cup of coffee, I press the button, moving over to the fridge and grabbing the pie. I’m slicing a piece of pie when my phone rings. Leaning over to grab it, I turn it over and see that it’s Lisa. “Hello,” I greet, smiling.

“Vivienne,” she says my name, and I look over and see that it’s just a bit past eight o’clock.

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