And so it begins...
We eat at a café, a long meal in which Mrs. Cabot drinks several cups of coffee and—just as we’ve paid the bill— announces she needs one more cup.
We’ve been on the road for maybe forty-five minutes at most when Betty suggests that they stop to show me Bahia Honda State Park. Fortunately her second suggestion, a visit to the turtle hospital, is politely shot down by Elijah and rudely shot down by Mrs. Cabot. Following this, we go to Robbie’s in Islamorada for lunch.
It’s eleven in the morning, and we are already eating again. At this rate we will reach Siesta Key roughly around the point that Kelsey is walking down the aisle in New Orleans. We’ll have had several hundred meals.
At Robbie’s, we’re seated next to a family drinking Red Bull and vodka, and they appear to have been at it for a while.
“Your brothers would fit right in here, wouldn’t they?” Mrs. Cabot asks me.
My brothers. My fighting, stealing brothers.
“I wouldn’t know,” I reply coolly. “I haven’t seen them in a long time.” I hear Kevin in my head, saying, “Good to know, Dr. Walsh” and suppress a shudder.
“Easton,” says Betty, with her phone open as if she’s filling out a form, “what are your love languages?”
My gaze shoots to Elijah. “Love languages?”
“How can you have all those degrees and not know this?” she asks. “I still don’t understand why you got all of them, either. Most people would be happy enough just to be a doctor the first time. Anyway, your love languages are how you want someone to show he cares.”
“Not dumping me the morning after we’ve hooked up,” I mutter, for Elijah’s ears only.
“That’s not a love language,” corrects Betty, who has shockingly good hearing for someone unable to moderate her own volume. “Some people like to hear the words, some like to be touched, some just want a man to take out the trash, some want gifts and some just want to spend time together. So how does Thomas show you he cares and how do youwishhe’d show it?”
For a second, I’m utterly blank. When we first started dating, I heard all kind of words. He acted as if dating me was the equivalent of a winning lottery ticket. Since then...I’m not sure.
“Touch, I guess.”
Elijah’s nostrils flare.
“And what do you wish he’d do more of?” Betty persists.
This entire line of questioning is sort of beside the point. We aren’t even together, so I don’t currently wish he’d do anything at all aside from pulling his head out of his ass. If weweretogether, I guess I could come up with a list. But again...we’re not. “I don’t wish he’d do more of anything.”
“You’re making her defensive,” says Mrs. Cabot, though she sounds as if she approves.
Elijah throws his napkin on his plate. “Let’s drop it.” Weirdly, he seems even more irritated than I am.
“Stay out of this, Elijah,” says Betty. “Easton, tell me the last act of service he did. Something he helped you with.”
Again, nothing is coming to mind. The phraseact of servicemakes me think of something like volunteering at a soup kitchen or cleaning up trash on the highway. “I don’t need Thomas to do anything.”
“Of course you do,” she corrects. “Okay, well, what about some romantic thing he did for you—a special surprise or a gift?”
My gaze flickers to Elijah and away. “That’s not really his jam.”
“I’m not even sure why you want him then,” Betty says, putting her phone away.
I sink in my seat. Thomas is not a terrible boyfriend, but Betty’s sure making him sound like one, which makesmesound pathetic for wanting him back so much.
When the meal ends, I reach for the check, and Elijah’s hand lands atop mine to stop me. It’s warm and strong and calloused, and a visceral thrill climbs through my stomach, spreading heat like some unwieldy vine. Our eyes meet, as if he feels it too. That’s one more thing I don’t get from Thomas—those chills, that bone-deep want. I wish I hadn’t noticed the difference.
I’m going to think about it when Thomas comes back. I’m going to think about a lot of shit when he comes back.
We rise from the table and walk down to the end of the pier. Elijah buys a bucket of bait to feed the tarpons, fish that unhinge their jaws and leap from the water when they smell prey. Only Elijah is brave enough to do it.
Betty and Mrs. Cabot instead focus on feeding a manatee who has wallowed toward us, despite the fact that there are signs every six inches warning us not to feed the manatees.
