“What would you like to do today?” he asks, a blurry hurricane zooming from here to there, making adjustments to his beachy knickknacks. There’s so much driftwood. And starfish.
Ordinarily, I’d say I want to go back to bed. Followed by grazing on snacks in bed while playing on my phone, until at least three in the afternoon. But this is Hall’s first holiday with a family, and I’ve been shamefully half-assing it.
After I dress and return from the bathroom, Hall takes one look at me and stands up straight, eyes widening. He takes a step forward, then back, resting a forearm against the wall.“Wow.”
“I take it you like the dress you picked out.” By his reaction, you’d think I was wearing something unbelievably hot, but it’s only a simple dress, albeit more form-fitting than what I’d usually wear.
He slips his hands into his pockets, laser-focused. “Do a little spin for me?”
I oblige.
He gives a low whistle, eyes dark and glittering with appreciation. “I was right, you look like a dream. Like a sea nymph. Like...” He circles me, then stops in the doorway and leans against the frame. “A goddess from Atlantis.”
I blush. “Oh, stop.”
“Never.”
I do another spin, because I am incorrigible and I love how slack-jawed it makes him. “Today, we’re going to make salt dough ornaments together.”
He stares at me like I’ve asked him if he wants to get married. His attention darts to the ceiling above my head, and I watch the minutiae of anxiety play across his features, a blush on his throat.
“We can shape them like candy canes.” When he still doesn’t respond, looking oddly deer-in-the-headlights, I prompt, “Hall?”
“Uh. Hang on a second. Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I do as requested, frowning when I sense movement overhead, stirring my hair ever so slightly. “What in the world are you doing?”
“Nothing. I think I heard someone calling my name. Gotta go, bye.” Then he runs out the door, down the hall. I hear footsteps thump on the stairs.
The spot where Hall had been swirls with crushed peppermint dust and an uncharacteristic ocean tang.
Okay, then.
The rest of the house has received a drastic makeover. The red, green, and gold ornaments are now aqua, coral, and tan. We’ve got oars on doors, fishing nets, an octopus coat hook, sand dollar drink coasters,life’s a beachwall decals. A saltwater aquarium that takes up half the sitting room and which I am unsurprised to find comes with every fish featured inFinding Nemo.
“He told me he’s thinking about becoming an interior designer. Asked if he could practice on the house,” Grandma is mentioning to Mom from behind a tiki bar with amargaritavillebanner. “He must have rented a truck for all this shit.” She sips her mimosa. “You know, I kind of like it, though.”
I finally track down Hall as he’s emerging from Grandpa’s study, a stack of thick texts balanced in the crook of his arm.
“What are you up to?”
He doesn’t slow, moving swiftly toward the living room. “I’ve got so much to read. There’s a list called One Hundred Books to Read before You Die, and I’ve only read two of them. How am I supposed to learn about the Dow Jones at this rate?”
“Why do you need to learn about the Dow Jones?”
“I’ve been thinking.” His brows slant down as he revolves, adding a book to his pile. “Do you want to go to Orlando? I’ve got unfinished business in Orlando.”
“Are you all right? You’re acting a little off today.”
His jaw locks, and I watch a thought crystallize in his brain. But before he can open his mouth to explain it, there’s a knock at the door.
“Ah, that’s for me,” sings Marilou, sweeping down the stairs. We all turn, puzzled, as she opens the door and a strange man enters. He’s tall, handsome, dark-haired, a dead ringer for Henry Golding.
Felix stands. “Who’s this?”
