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The blues of her eyes manage to be remote, awed, a bit sad at whatever they’re seeing in that sunset.
She almost seems to be talking to herself as she continues, “So many things are like that. You rush through the best parts, just trying to get things done and done right, only realizing they were the best later. It’s like we use memories to enjoy things, really. Though we’re too late, of course.”
Coming to, she gives her head a little shake and lets out a small chuckle. “God, I’m getting philosophical and I haven’t even had any wine.”
“I think the boat captain was offering some if you...” I trail off, seeing the slight downturn of her lips.
I follow her gaze.
She has a point, what she said.
I’ve spent several nights here, and not once have I noticed the sunset other than a fleeting two-second ‘that’s nice’ thought.
Right now, a pink haze surrounds the half-sphere of the sun, a long swath of purple, then pink, on the horizon. It burns the waters into pale pink, broken by the navy swells of waves. The sky on the very edge looks bluer than I’ve ever seen.
“Maybe another week here isn’t the worst thing,” I say quietly.
Wynona glances at me, surprised. Her smile is rueful, almost naked-looking without her usual bold lipstick. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
I don’t know what my smile is. “Come on. I can’t be the worst ex you’ve had.”
Wynona looks up to the left, pretending to tap her lip deep in thought.
I rip my gaze away. I’d like to cover that lip with something very different. Something that could ruin tonight within seconds.
“I don’t know...” she says contemplatively. “I mean, there was this lumberjack who cheated on me with his second cousin, then tried to steal my dog, but then again, there was you...”
“Seriously?” I ask.
She chuckles, although her eyes haven’t gotten the memo. “Guess I should’ve seen how he looked at that dog.”
“Jesus, and I thought I was unlucky in love.”
Her gaze swings my way, this time matching her frown. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
I shrug. “Believe what you want. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say that my most recent ex is a first-class psycho.”
Wynona quirks an eyebrow. “What is it they say about people who claim that every single one of their exes is insane?”
“Did I say every single one of mine was?” I find myself growling.
Her eyebrows lower. “I was joking.”
“Fine,” I say.
“Great,” she says.
Already, the sunset is disappearing, its traces still on the left-behind waves.
Her question is so quiet that I almost don’t hear it. “Is that what you said about me?”
“No.” I turn her way, but she’s not looking at me. “Of course not. I—”
“No,” she says coolly. “You didn’t even tell most of your brothers about me.”
“Wynona, I—”
“No.” She straightens, turning her back to me. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No,” I growl, turning away too. If she wants to play this game, then we can play it. “You shouldn’t have.”
The boat motor’s still whirring, and we’re gliding over the water at a good clip, spray flicking us every so often, when suddenly, the boatman cuts the motor. Now, we’re riding the waves and seeing what we came here for.
“Look!” someone says.
I look, eyes skimming the waves, almost getting distracted by their lulling pulse until I see it. A rounded fin.
“Dolphins,” Wynona murmurs.
Seconds later, the head belonging to the fin appears, a shiny bottle-neck dolphin with a grin that makes me grin too.
Another one pops out, then they make a whistling noise before disappearing under the surface.
“Must be your lucky night,” the boatman says. “Not every day they visit us so close like this.”
“I thought this is the dolphin sightseeing boat,” a strident voice says.
“Lady,” the boatman says, pursing his bulbous lips, “this tour is free.”
We get a few more glimpses of the dolphins, heads popping up, swimming around, before the boatman starts the motor again.
During the ride back, the others chitchat among themselves easily, but not us. Wynona is still staring at the waves, her face lost in thought. Her shoulders are part-hunched, perhaps from the cool. Perhaps from me.
“Shit,” Wynona says suddenly, lunging toward the side of the boat, reaching for something. I catch her just in time.
“What the hell were you doing?” I ask.
Wynona gapes at me, chest working hard, before she wrests herself away. She leans over the side of the boat, her gaze going to the water we just passed.
“My hat,” she explains.
“So what?” I say. “You thought you’d just jump off the boat to get it?”
Her frown goes rueful. “I wasn’t thinking.” She turns my way, her smile grudging. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She doesn’t say anything else the rest of the ride.
I think of a few things to say, about the color of the night sky, how it seems different from back home, or how the salty air has another scent that I can’t place but maybe she could, or even about how the boatman’s soundtrack this whole time has been nothing but Enrique Iglesias songs.
