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“I might need to.” She tips her head back as a gentle breeze wafts over us. “I haven’t been to the harbor in way too long. Living on the coast, I sometimes feel like I take it for granted. It’s just there whenever I want and there’s no sense of urgency to get to the shore.”
“I grew up in East Lyme, Connecticut, so I spent a lot of time at the beach.”
“Do you live in Charleston?”
“No, I have a house on Sullivan’s Island.” My answer seems to surprise her. “Not what you expected?”
“Not really. Being a famous hockey player and all, I assumed you’d want to live in the city where all the action is.”
“I used to live in downtown Charleston, and I loved it. Being able to walk places and having so much to do whenever I wanted to get out was great. But after a while it got old, and I wanted privacy more than anything.”
“I can understand that. You’re a celebrity, and people must want a piece of you wherever you go.”
“Sometimes it’s like that. But more than anything, I just like being able to fly under the radar and live my life like a regular Joe.”
She snorts. “Too late for that, dude.”
“Yeah, I know. Notoriety is a tradeoff for playing hockey, and I’m happy to deal with it. It’s a first world problem.”
“I don’t think I’d like to be famous. Being average works fine for me,” she says.
My left eyebrow raises skeptically. “There’s nothing average about you, Rori.”
She smiles. “That’s sweet of you to say, but I’m sure my family would disagree with you.”
“What do you mean?”
She waves her hand dismissively. “Nothing important.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” She seems taken aback by my reply.
“Dismiss your thoughts as if they don’t matter. Tell me what you were referring to.”
“It’s nothing important,” she says again, and I stare pointedly at her. She sighs. “Fine. My mom and sister have a way of pointing out all my shortcomings.”
“Which sister? Stella?” I ask. I can’t imagine it would be Valentina.
She laughs. “No. Stella and I are close. She’s a doll.”
“Valentina?” I ask.
“Yep. My mom and her are like two peas in a pod.” She studies my face. “You seem surprised.”
“I don’t remember either of them being like that.”
“Twelve years is a long time, and I’m not saying I was verbally abused as a child. They’ve just gotten more critical of me as I’ve gotten older, and neither of them is afraid to voice what they think. Nothing seems to be off-limits when it comes to me.”
“Have you told them it bothers you?”
She snickers. “Yeah, it doesn’t make a difference. I’ve learned to let it roll off my back. I don’t take their words to heart.”
“Well, it sounds like you might if you think there’s anything average about you. I haven’t spent much time with you, but I already know you’re beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, and easy to talk to.”
“Maybe you have low standards,” she quips.
“That’s not the case.” I collect our trash and place it in the empty paper bag. Opening the last Styrofoam container, I set it down in front of her. “Would you like dessert?”
