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“I got up at five this morning,” Wayne said, delivering proof of it with a funny-sounding yawn.
“You’re pretty good at the old sailing thing,” Elise said. She scooched herself toward him and sat about six inches away from where his head was splayed on the pillow.
“I know,” Wayne said.
“And you’re not arrogant about it at all,” Elise said, rolling her eyes.
Wayne laughed. Silence fell between them again. Elise had to face facts: she’d begun to crush on him. Hard.
“I need to apologize to you about yesterday,” Wayne said suddenly. His eyes remained closed as he basked in the sun.
“What are you talking about? You’ve been such a help.”
“Taking you to Anna’s wedding like that.”
“Actually, I dragged you there,” Elise affirmed.
“I guess that’s true. But I should have stopped it. I didn’t want to put you in any weird position. Anna is a great person, a great friend—and I’m so happy she’s happy. But it was pretty unnecessary.”
Is he telling me this because we’re on a date?
Is this a date?
Were the other times we’ve hung out actually romantic?
“I know you’re just a visitor. That you’re just here to figure out your own life and what it all means,” Wayne continued. “But you seem interesting and introspective. And you’d probably get it if I told you... the past few years have not been easy for me. I’ve done a number of things I regret.”
Ah! So this is what Alex was talking about?
“We all do things we regret,” Elise offered, although she burned with curiosity about what he meant.
“I know that. But it gets old, you know? Everyone constantly calling me a playboy. Everyone saying that I actually take pleasure in hurting people. Truthfully? I’ve just felt like an exposed nerve for the past three years. I don’t know how to find my way out of it.”
Three years? What happened three years ago?
“Everyone says there’s a process to it all, you know,” Wayne continued. “And it’s not like I haven’t had a good time. But I’ve been more-or-less single for the past twelve months, trying to take a good, hard look at my life, at what I want. I basically lived at that coffee house earlier this summer, trying to pump as much money into it as I could. I built a lot of the new cabinets and tables in there. It was therapeutic, feeling like I could use my hands like that.” He stretched his massive palms out in front of him.
“You’ve done a beautiful job,” Elise murmured. She gave a slight shrug, then said, “And I guess I understand a bit of what you’re saying. Now that I’m divorced and my mother is gone, I’m trying to pick up the pieces of my life, one-by-one. I didn’t expect that coming here would affect the Swartzes so much.”
Wayne tilted his head and opened his eyes. “If Dean doesn’t get to meet you properly—even if you’re not actually his daughter—then that’s his loss.”
Elise’s heart lifted. “I don’t know. He’s had such a life without me and Mom. Maybe it’s better to leave the past the past.”
“Or maybe it’s better to stare truth in the face and acknowledge it,” Wayne said. “Life is messy and chaotic, and nobody really ever comes out on top, do they?”
“That’s one thing I know for sure,” Elise said with a laugh.
They remained out in the sun for a number of hours. Occasionally, one of them performed swan-dives off the side of the boat, showing off for one another, telling each other that they “still got it” in terms of diving.
“We’re not young anymore, but I think we might still have a shot at the big times,” Wayne said.
“I can’t wait,” Elise said.
After they’d latched the boat back to the dock, Elise tried to drum up the courage to ask Wayne what he’d meant about his loss. What had happened? Who was Tara? But he flashed her that same handsome smile and said, “I’m famished. Want to grab a burger?” and all she could do was shrug and say, “That’s exactly what I want,” and head off down Main Street alongside him. Exactly once, his hand brushed against hers, and electricity shot through her limbs.
She’d never felt like this before.
But they were playing pretend, in a life that wasn’t hers.
And he was probably right.
Soon, she would have to face facts and return home.
