I need to talk to you. A smile isn’t enough anymore. I want to know the word you would use to describe me.
And then…
8
Cloudy but clearing in the afternoon
My loafers almost skipalong the gravel path to the wharf. I’m exhausted, but finally, it’s Thursday.
Where do the weeks even go? Workdays vanish in a blur.
This morning, a toddler decided she no longer wanted to wear anything but her sandals. Her poor mum. I fashioned a toga for the little girl from a sheet in the storeroom cupboard. A knot of twine around the middle, and she happily modeled her new “Oga” for everyone in the waiting room.
Something exciting always happens.
But I miss spending my days tucked in the corner of the library, buried under a pile of old books. The clinic smells too clean. There are no musty pages to pore over. And it’s soyellow. The walls, the blinds, and even the waiting room chairs are the same shade of spoiled clotted cream.
The only things that break up the monotony are the dozens of flowers Luke has delivered every day. Vases dot the waitingroom, but the cards are locked safely in the top drawer of the reception desk.
I tried to read Little Women to make you swoon with some meaningful quote, but I’ve decided to rent the video instead. Have you seen it? Promise me it’s good. The cover doesn’t inspire much hope. L.
Luke’s cards are charming. Not enough for me to forgive him, but charming all the same. And at least he’s honest…about some things…
I duck along the path that winds behind Mulligan’s. Dare Watson is there. I don’t know what I expected him to look like, but he’s dark all over. His hair—including the carpet on his forearms—his clothes, and clearly, his mood. Flint gray eyes scowl at me as he swings a trash bag into the dumpster out back.
I don’t stop to wave. He’s slightly terrifying. “Hi, Mullie!” I call over my shoulder.
“Hi?”
He has no idea who I am, but I know about him.Always chasin’ tail, that’s what Sawyer said. I stifle a laugh and keep hurrying down the path.
The scene waiting on the other side is so familiar. My steps falter, and I suck in a deep breath. Familiar, but not the same.
Luke and Sawyer stand at the edge of the wharf. They couldn’t be more different. Flannel and jeans next to sleek business casual. Sawyer’s head hangs low, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he’s listening to whatever story Luke is telling with lots of big hand movements. Whatdothose two talk about? Sport? “The game?” I grimace.
Luke’s head turns. He must hear the crackle of gravel under my loafers as I come down the path.
“Elsie.” Surprise edges his voice, but he smiles.
A sharp pain stabs between my ribs to see him across the sand with the sunset glowing in a halo around his dark hair. We could have been so good together. He ruined it. But I refuse to be rude to him. It will only be awkward for Sawyer.
I force a smile and offer Luke a simple “Hi” before turning to the man beside him. “Are you ready to go?”
Sawyer jerks his chin down. “We finished late. Mind if I stop by my place on the way through so I can wash up?”
“So.” I waggle my eyebrows. “It’s my turn to seeyouin a towel, huh?”
His cheeks flush, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Aw, well…”
Luke glances between us, frowning, and my stomach plummets to my loafers. It’s too late. The words are already out of my mouth. I didn’t mean for that to sound so dirty. Now I reallyhaveembarrassed Sawyer.
I stumble over an apology, but Sawyer smiles. “You’ll cop an eyeful eventually, I s’pose.” He claps a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Cain can fix you up with whatever you need for the restaurant tonight.”
There are no goodbyes.
Just as Luke opens his mouth to speak, I square my shoulders and turn my back on him. My attention focuses on gingerly tiptoeing through the sand beside Sawyer.
His brow furrows when he glances down at my feet. “Sorry,” he says. “I forgot you wear those.” My loafers and knee-high socks look ridiculous sinking into the sand beside his rubber boots. “I should’ve taken the path.”
