A shining pink-tinted pearl rolls under a clothing rack, and I reach for it.
“Excuse me,” I say, as a gloved hand brushes mine. As much as I appreciate the help, I want all the pieces back. But the pearl is snatched just out of my reach. My gaze tips up at the customer, and I fixate for a moment on the shape of his claws…
The webbing that stretches between each finger and—
“Looks like it’s time for me to make you another bracelet, hm, darlin’?” a voice says, and I’d know it anywhere. My eyes snap up, and—he’s here.
He’s really here.
Those sunset eyes blink at me as his fins flatten in a way that makes him appear sheepish and shy.
“When—how—oh my god!” I topple forward and squeeze my arms around him so tightly I hear him gasp.
Something cold presses against my side—a nose—a snout. Oh my God, he brought Clawrece, and she’s as happy as ever, thudding her tail loudly on the wooden floor with her teeth bared.
“I’m here,” Gil says. His lips are so close, I can’t reply. Instead, I lean forward, nearly tripping into a kiss. “I’m right here.”
His webbed hand splays across my waist as my hands reach around his neck, touching his fins and gills and—the gravelly sound of a throat being cleared snaps me back to reality. A reality in which I’m making out with my boyfriend in the entrance of my aunt’s boutique, and she’s definitely—absolutelyabout to call the police.
There are costume-less shoppers with cell phones poised undoubtably taking videos, and sure it being Halloween might explain everything away, but I’d rather this moment stay off the internet—though it’s probably too late now.
“That animatronic is so good.” Someone whispers, pointing to Clawrece—and you know what? Rainbow was right: humans really will figure out how to explain anything away.
Humans except for Aunt Andrea.
“What is the meaning of this?” she shouts, and to be fair, this may be one of the times in her life where her rage is justified.
The shoppers stare wide-eyed at the scaled man in cut-off shorts and sandals who’s brought a gator into a retail establishment. There’s only one thing I can say to explain all of this away…
“Don’t worry, everyone,” I say with a casual shrug of my shoulders. “He’s from Florida.”
This whole time I’ve been trying to figure out how to handle everything alone, without Grams and without Gil—one for pride, the other for distance, but now that he’s here, and face to face with Aunt Andrea, I gulp at his confident posture and serious gaze.
I’ve seen him in “work-mode” once before, the way his good-natured goofiness turned to something driven and professional, something that demands respect.
“That’s quite the costume,” Aunt Andrea says. Her voice has a nervous edge as she stares at Clawrece. “You know you could be arrested for bringing a wild animal in here.”
“Beg your pardon, ma’am,” Gil says with a bow of his head. “When I spotted you behind the counter, I assumed all kinds of predators were welcome inside.”
My jaw drops.He did not just say that.
I’ve held back all these years—and apparently so has he.
Still, the tone, the posture, it all remains calm. And work-Gil—he’s kind of hot.
“Out!This instance,” she says, pointing to the door with a shaking hand. Then something strange happens—Aunt Andrea looks—really looks—seeming to study every single inch of Gil, her eyes stretching across him presumably to look for a seam, a zipper, some proof that what’s in front of her isn’t real.
And for a moment it’s like 12-year-old Marina is at the forefront of my mind. The girl who was desperate to say, “I told you so” finally able to prove that her stories have always been reality. I’ve never been a liar.
“You—you can’t be—” Aunt Andrea’s face twists in horror. She moves, cowering behind the desk. And with almost cosmically perfect timing, Jenna strides into the office, completely oblivious.
“Why isn’t anyone out—” she begins, then screams, jumping into the air as Clawrece snaps her jaw. I don’t even try to suppress my laughter.
Within seconds, she’s pressed herself against the wall. And Aunt Andrea is crouching on top of her office chair like she’s hiding from a mouse. As I’m enjoying the show, I hold out my palm and make a clicking sound with my tongue. The gator nuzzles my side.
“Jenna—Good, you’re here!” I say. “Allow me to introduce you to Gil—from camp. You remember, right? I told so many stories about him. How could you forget?”
Her jaw falls slack as she looks at her mother for confirmation of the impossible. But Aunt Andrea’s eyes are locked on mine.
