“Well, maybe it’s more accurate to say I’m notjusta barista.”
Lilavati continues to watch me, giving me nothing.
“I own the café. Not just that one, actually. There are five of them. I work the floor sometimes to keep an eye on things, or when we’re short staffed. Which we are right now.”
Lil’s eyes leave my face, and she stares into her wine, which she swirls slowly.
“And the surfboards?” she asks, looking up again.
“Yeah. That too. I own Beach Road Boards. Probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but I make boards for a lot of the pros on the circuit. I’m making one for the world number one right now.”
“Hmmm. So that stuff at the airport about the Hawaiian champion?”
I nod.
Lil twists the stem of her wineglass into the sand, stands and walks to the edge of the water and paces back and forth, hands on hips, shoulders tense.
I give her a minute to process before I follow her. She stops moving and turns to face the dark waters of the moonlit bay. We stand silently, shoulder to shoulder, until she turns her fiercest glare on me.
Which is fierce in the extreme. God help our future children when they step out of line. The thought of having children with Lil almost brings a smile to my face, but I manage to hold it in.
“You … you … nincompoop!” she splutters, shoving me in the shoulder.
“Nincompoop?” I burst out laughing, despite how the future of our relationship is hanging by a thread.
“Yes, nincompoop.” Lilavati laughs. “Why didn’t you just tell me I’d made a mistake from the get-go?”
“Because I knew you were trying to piss off your parents, and I didn’t want you using it as an excuse to back out.” She hasn’t slapped me or stormed off, so that’s a good sign.
“Why?” She crosses her arms. If I look down, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her foot tapping.
“Why? I thought I’d made it clear, but if you need me to spell it out, I really like you. I wanted the chance to get to know you. And I didn’t think you’d give me the time of day if I asked you on a date.”
“You liked me?” Her lips twist in an attempt not to smile.
“Yeah. Call me weird, but the minute you hopped out of that car and started abusing me, you had me hooked.”
She huffs to try and cover a laugh.
“If you tell Warren or Mum or Grandie about this …” She leaves the thought hanging.
I run my thumb and forefinger across my lips, twist them, and I’m about to throw away the imaginary key when I hesitate. Something in my expression must alert her.
“What else haven’t you told me?”
“Nothing. Honestly. Well, except Grandie already knows.”
“She knows? You told her before you told me?” Her hands fly up and out in frustration.
“Not exactly. She googled me.”
Lilavati laughs. “Grandie? So that’s what you were talking about during your little stroll to the back of the boat on the cruise?”
I nod sheepishly. “She made it crystal clear that if I didn’t tell you, she would.”
“Were you ever going to tell me of your own accord?”
“Of course! I’ve been trying to tell you since we arrived. I started to tell you when we were dancing on the first night, but then Emily cut in. And I tried to slow things down when we were skinny dipping, but, well, I’m only human.”
