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Sophie
What was that?
Oliver! The nerve of that man. He has played with my heart long enough. Does he realize what he does?
I’m really, really, really glad we didn’t kiss.
Except. What was he saying about wasted time and that I’m incredible?
I’m walking to my car and texting Claire wildly. I don’t care about the typos as my fingers fly over my phone.
Strange moment with Oliver just now. Things were so good on the boate and then we ended up in the water but things were still good and he miht have wanted to kiss me and I might have let him but then he just stood there with this vacant look on his face and I don’t know I think he paniked and then Troy of all peple shows up and I felt nothing it was weird like I never even had a relationship with him at all and then Oliver started saying something about making up for lost tume an…
I curse as I accidentally hit send too early. I walk the rest of the way to my car. I should probably sit down to text out something as monumental as this.
It takes less than a minute for Claire to call. I’m feeling vulnerable from my stream-of-consciousness text. “City administrator jobs totally rock,” I say. “You can get off at five and be at my beck and call whenever I need.”
She ignores my opening. “Your run-on sentence should win an award.” Claire’s voice holds worry. “And, are you okay? I don’t think you’ve ever misspelled ‘might’ before.” There’s a pause. “Or the word ‘people’ or the word—”
I interrupt. “I don’t know if I’m okay.” I put the phone on speaker and slump down in my driver’s seat. “I should probably come home before I have a freaking trauma response to what just happened.”
“Trauma response? Start from the beginning. Why were you on a boat with Oliver? And it capsized? What in the heck?”
“It didn’t capsize. There’s a reason I smell like fish and it’s not because we went out for seafood.” I sigh and start my car. I wasn’t kidding about the trauma response. “I’ll explain everything when I get home.”
“Are you okay to drive? Sisters don’t let sisters drive in a funk.”
I assure her that I’m fine. I’m hoping I’ll make it home in one piece, as the strange points of interest in the dumpster fire that is my life replay in my mind over and over.
When I get there, Claire already has a long, thin rice bag warmed up for me. My dumpster fire-ness must have come across over the phone.
Wilford gives me tons of kisses, liking the way my skin tastes now that I have dried lake water on me.
Claire eyes my crazy, seaweed-like hair. “You really did go overboard.”
I nod, but then rush to explain. “It was near the shore. The far shore. We were trying to ditch Sebastian, and—”
“Who would ever want to ditch Sebastian?” It’s a reflex of hers. Sebastian’s this hot, surly beast, prowling in a castle. Completely unattainable, but a lot of women around here don’t ever want to stop trying.
I laugh as I remember the scene. “I don’t know exactly why Oliver was trying to avoid him, but we had so much fun. And then he jumped in the water for me, and everything was like it was in slow motion, you know? And then we reached the shore, and I wanted to kiss him on the beach.”
Claire holds up a palm. “Wait. You shared a romantic moment?”
“It was...” I stop, not even sure I want to try to explain it to her. Doubts rush into me. What even was that? “I don’t know exactly. We didn’t kiss. But we almost did. And then I asked him if he was going to move to Capri and he said that he has to.” The pit in my stomach grows. “But then later, after we got back to the resort and saw Troy and his father in the distance, Oliver was super agitated. And he started talking about wasted time and how I’m an incredible woman.”
Claire’s eyes grow wide. “He said that? You mean there’s a Tate brother who actually notices other people?”
My heart sinks to my stomach. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Villainize someone just because they might be interested in me.” Wilford has settled his huge head on my lap. I knead the hot rice bag hanging from my neck and finally, there’s some heat seeping into the bones of my fingers.
Claire opens her mouth to protest, but then her gaze goes to the floor. “I’m not villainizing him.”
At my tongue click, she holds up her palms. “I admit it, I never liked Troy and made that clear to you from day one. But that was because I knew he wasn’t right for you. So yeah, I villainizedhim.” Claire grabs her hair, sweeps it to one side and holds a section of the ends close to her face, probably looking for split ends. It’s a habit I caught myself doing just this morning.
“And what’s so wrong with Oliver? He’s nothing like Troy,” I shoot back.
