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“You said, ‘Take a picture, it will last longer.’”
She erupted into laughter. “I forgot about that. That feels like ages ago.”
I shook my head. Maybe it felt like ages, but it hadn’t been. Not quite. It reminded me of how little time I had with her. The lake would be our dream world, and in a couple of days, all of it would be behind us.
She looked like she wanted to ask what was on my mind, but then the server brought out our dinner. We dug in, and Gemma moaned as she ate. I had to shift my dick in my pants at the sound of it.
When I took my first bite, I understood why she made that noise. And then I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“These are good-ass crab cakes,” I said with a smirk.
She laughed again, and at that moment, I loved that I made her laugh. She wasn’t glaring at me or telling me to go fuck myself. Even though I deserved all of that. On this dock, Gemma Jensen was wearing a pretty dress and smiling at me like I never did anything wrong.
“Told you they were good,” she said with a cute, cocky grin.
“They are.”
We chatted while we finished our dinner, and Gemma was patient while I sipped my beer. We watched the water as the sun went down, and it reeked like this was a date.
“You’re forgiven,” she said after some time passed.
“Hmm?”
She gave me a bright smile. “For standing me up.”
I quirked up my eyebrow. “Oh?”
She nodded. “Letting me drag you to all those breweries and dinner tonight made up for it. But, Felix…”
“Yeah?”
She pressed her lips together in thought. “I would have understood if you told me about your family situation. I think it’s amazing you took the reins in raising your sister. But it doesn’t mean you can’t have a love life.”
I wished that were true, but I had already tried with Roger, and I chose Skye over him. I didn’t want to do that to Gemma. She deserved to be on a pedestal.
“I just can’t.”
She nodded, but the way she looked down at her phone and ignored me told me I had said the wrong thing.
I wanted to say something else, but then two women walked over to our table. I recognized the one woman as the cheery blonde barista from the coffee shop. She was holding hands with a tall, Black woman with natural curls.
“Hey, Gemma!” the blonde said.
Gemma gave them both a bright smile. “Hey, Harper, Keisha. How are you?”
“Good,” the Black woman said and then looked over at me. “Oh, I’m Keisha. This is my wife, Harper.”
I held out a hand and shook both of theirs. “Felix. I know your wife from the coffee shop.”
The blonde looked up at the sky. “Felix. Black coffee and a pastry. Right?”
I laughed. “You got it.”
Gemma scoffed. “So boring. What are you two up to?”
“Just got done with dinner,” Harper said.
