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I didn’t escape me how carefully she walked in her strappy high heels. She was fighting to hide her limp, and I suspected the railing was a way for her to disguise it.
“Yeah, all that body heat from everybody canoodling,” I muttered as I swirled the Scotch in my glass.
“It’s not easy, is it?”
She had to be drunk. Either that, or she was about to suggest it was difficult for me to walk around without a brain in my head. Something sarcastic like that.
“What?”
“Being the last one at the dance without a partner,” she clarified, and the way she said it made me laugh before I could help myself.
“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”
“Oh, really?” she replied with a hint of amusement.
“Sure.” The breeze picked up and stirred the gauzy top layer of her pale green dress, giving me a hint of the body beneath it, covered in satin of the same color. The sleeves were only that light, almost see-through material, and floated around her arms. For the first time, I noticed the regal way she carried herself. Until then, I had only interpreted that quality as bitchiness. An example of her thinking she was better than me somehow.
It was probably the Scotch or the twinkling lights that set off the faint, reddish highlights in her hair, drawing my sincere interest. Or it could have been the frank clarity in her green eyes when they met mine.
“Then again,” she said with a sly smile, “you could have any woman you wanted. I mean, you have it all.”
“Maybe not quite everything. Good judgment would be a bonus, and until now, that hasn’t been my forte.” What an unexpected and strange conversation. Maybe because we weren’t friends, it felt easier to open up. She already judged me, after all. “No, I already got burned. Third degree.”
“Well, at least you can say you tried.” Her eyes darted away before she turned her head, letting me observe her profile as she gazed over the water. Her throat worked, and her nostrils flared, but she said nothing.
“That’s good news about your surgery.” I had to say something, didn’t I? It wasn’t like me feeling this awkward while talking to a woman. Then again, I couldn’t remember the last time I had an actual conversation with one that didn’t involve whether we were going to my place or hers.
She snickered before a knowing smirk tugged at her glossy lips. “Sure. Then I’ll be normal, and I won’t be a burden anymore.”
“Did I say that? I didn’t say that,” I quickly defended.
“I don’t know where that came from,” she admitted, her voice low and throaty. “I shouldn’t have said it.”
Was that how she really felt about herself?It never occurred to me that she ever would. “Barrett doesn’t think of you that way. None of us do. But I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“He means well.” I left it there, and the twitching of her lips told me she understood.
The breeze stirred again, teasing a few strands of hair from her classic twist and carrying her sweet, floral scent my way. Something like hunger stirred to life in my core, so sudden and so potent I almost laughed at its presence.
I could be honest with myself. She wasn’t my type for many reasons. She didn’t make herself available, for one thing. She didn’t flirt, didn’t look at me the way women normally did. All they cared for was what was on the surface, nothing more. Leila had been like that.
How did I not see it while there was still time to course correct?
Evelyn was another story. Maybe it was because she saw me clearly. We didn’t get along because something was fundamentally broken in me that could never be repaired. She saw that, and she didn’t bother pretending to not be turned off. That was new, like being out at sea without a compass. But standing there on that deck, I had to admit there were times when seeing someone and being seen by them wasn’t so bad, especially by someone with curves that practically invited a hand to glide sensuously down along their contours.
“Why do you live in Boston?” I asked, needing to fill the silence.
“My life is there.”
“You know how much Barrett wants you to move to New York.”
I could practically hear her teeth grinding. “Which may or may not be part of the reason why I still live in Boston. I like feeling…” She ducked her head and snickered. “How stupid. I was about to say independent, but clearly, I’m not. I never have been. I owe everything to him.”
No, she wasn’t independent any more than I was. I didn’t have to work, and a damn good thing that was. But if it wasn’t for my family’s money from the tech company, I would have nothing of my own. Nothing real. I couldn’t even manage to hold on to a wife, though she wasn’t worth holding on to.
“You’re smart,” I offered, noticing she was already staring at me when our eyes met. “Smarter than probably ninety-nine percent of the women I know.”
