"No problem.But let’s grab you one of my jackets,” Calvin said.“The wind's picked up."
She and Calvin returned to the comfort of the patio.She took the same chair she had occupied earlier, while he positioned his wheelchair right alongside hers.Pockets of stars blanketed the sky overhead.They sat hand in hand and watched lights dance in the ripples of a nearby koi pond for a while.Neither of them spoke, and she silently cursed herself for that last glass of wine.She’d spent the flight out collecting the exact words to express the state of her heart.Now, sitting beside him and seeing the progress he had made, her rehearsed speech lacked true honesty.
Claire shivered.She released his hand, pulling his jacket snugly around her shoulders.
"If it's too cold for you we can go back inside,” he said.
"I like it out here.It feels nice."
"Do you remember that night we spent out on Simon Cowell’s boat at the marina?When we almost froze to death?"
Claire shook her head and sighed."Unfortunately, yes."
"The wind whipped us around as if we were out in twenty-foot swells.I hit my head on the cabin door, and it bled like hell, remember?And we didn't have any bandages or anything, so you held a Kotex pad on my forehead until it stopped bleeding?"
"It worked, didn't it?"
"Yes, it did.Amazingly well, I might add.I think it was the ‘Super Absorbency’ variety, wasn't it?"
"Talk about a rough night.Tell me again why we stayed?"
Calvin barked a sarcastic laugh."Tell you again?Ms Jordan, youinsistedwe stay."
"Me?”Claire pressed a hand to her chest.“Are you kidding?I was scared to death.I begged you to leave."
"Wrong.”He shook his head.“You said any sailor worth his salt would stay and ride it out.I couldn’t say no—not with my manhood challenged by the presence of feminine hygiene products on my brow."
Claire erupted in laughter, unable to catch her breath for several seconds.Calvin tried to stay serious and composed, but her contagious laugh got the best of him.
"What I meant to say," Claire took a deep breath, "was that any sailor worth his salt would have taken his female companion to the nearest five-star hotel for warm blankets and room service."
"Well, there were other memorable nights, if I recall.Nights when room service was the last thing on your mind."He waggled his brows.
“Yes, there were quite a few of those,” she confirmed, smiling softly in remembrance.
"What about that time we drove to Napa?"
"And we took your old Aston-Martin?"Claire laughed."And about two hours in, we were hit by that thunderstorm, and you couldn't get the convertible top up?"
"Damn vintage automobile,” Calvin grumbled.“I don't know what we'd have done if we hadn't found that old barn off the freeway.I swore off convertibles altogether after that."
"We were soaked, do you remember?It rained cats and dogs for hours."
“I remember the dark sky—like squid ink.And we were starving."
Claire rolled her eyes."That's because your idea of a picnic on the road consisted of a bottle of Bordeaux and a can of Pringles."
"I wasn't exactly a gourmet cook back then, but I don't recall you complaining.Not after we took a turn on the picnic blanket anyway."He squeezed her hand.
"You know what I remember most about that trip?"Claire lowered her voice, turning more serious."I got that bad piece of fish and puked all night.You stood right beside me while my head was in the toilet and held my hair back.Do you remember that?"
"British men do not puke, let alone hold the hair of those who do.You must have confused me with someone else."He made a face that made her laugh.
The sound of an ambulance cut through their conversation.It echoed loudly, and Claire held her breath.They listened in silence for several moments until the siren faded into the night.Her mind filled with images of Christmas Eve.She tried to imagine Jay’s memories of that night.A lump rose in her throat and stayed there.
“My sister owes you a monumental apology, Claire.”
Claire looked away, flustered by his declaration.“What?Oh, that.Well, she was only looking out for your wellbeing.Can’t fault her for that.”
