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We exchange mobile numbers and he gives me a small, grateful smile before helping Rose out of the club.
Assuming Peter follows through—and, let’s face it, that’s a crapshoot—tomorrow’s conversation seems like a pivotal moment. One that will either mend what’s broken or confirm my worst fears.
With a heart full of uncertainty, I head home.
Whatever happens, I’ll be ready. It’s time to confront the past.
And maybe, just maybe, I can find some peace in the present.
Chapter eleven
Peter
The Next Day
She’s not going to show.
Well, it’s 50/50.
We agreed to meet at eleven and it’s twenty past. I’m about to text her to see if she’s changed her mind when I see her gunmetal Mercedes sedan pull into the Bell Harbor Marina parking lot.
Jordan gets out of the car, dressed warmly in black jeans, boots, and big puffy coat. Her hair whips in the wind as she looks around until she sees me. I hold up my gloved hand and watch as she approaches. There’s still a possibility she’ll bail when I tell her the plan.
If she accepts my invitation, I’ll have her to myself for an entire day and I won't waste the opportunity.
I'll lay it all out there.
She stops in front of me, pink-cheeked and trepidatious. Looks over my shoulder to take in the sleek lines of my Sea Ray Sundancer 320. Her eyes flick to me and she tilts her head. “This is your idea of a chat? You expect me to get on a boat alone with you?”
Aching to take her in my arms and kiss her senseless, I opt for what I hope is a sincere smile. “It’s a rare, clear day. The way I figure it, we have an opportunity. New year. Fresh start. Plus, there’s pizza involved in Kingston. Have you heard of Sourdough Willie’s?”
“Peter…” She glances up at her car in the parking lot, probably considering whether to make an escape. Flicks her gaze to me. “I didn’t expect this to be an all-day thing. What if I have plans later?”
I look deep into her glittering green eyes. “Do you?”
She sucks her lip between her teeth as if she’s pondering her options before conceding. “No.”
Stepping aside so she can board, I palm her lower back to make sure she keeps her balance. “I bought this a couple years ago when I had a big project on Bainbridge. It was easier than waiting in a ferry line. I haven’t taken it out since summer.”
“It’s nice.” She glances around the helm, which is enclosed in a fiberglass hardtop. “Won’t we be cold, though?”
I plug in the electric blankets I bought earlier. “Not with these. Have you boated before?”
Jordan sits in the passenger seat. “Sure, my pops loves boating.”
Holding up the kettle, I gesture to the cabin. “I’ll make hot chocolate for the ride. Will you help with the fenders before we take off?”
“I’m happy to.” Jordan fidgets with her coat. “It’ll give me something to do. This is fucking awkward.”
Realizing my terrible communication skills are, once again, putting her at a disadvantage, I grip her shoulder with my gloved hand and feel a zing through the cloth. “Thank you for coming. I hope after today things won’t seem strange.”
“Fat chance.” Jordan rolls her eyes but quirks her eyebrow and grins.
Ten minutes later, we set off to the north, the Seattle skyline shrinking behind us as we head toward Kingston. I pull the flaps of my wooly hat over my ears and keep an eye on my navigation settings. Jordan wraps a blanket around her and settles into her seat. Once we’re on course, the hum of the engine and subtle sway of the boat create a sense of tranquility.
I decide to dive in. “I owe you an explanation. About a lot of things. I’d like to start with our night in Vegas.”
She turns to me and takes a sip of cocoa, waiting.
