“Oh, Iloveyoga!” Maren beams at Fee, then turns to me with the same megawatt smile. “I’m hopeless with computers, though. You must be incredibly smart, Georgie.”
Her genuine warmth makes everything worse.
“Not really,” I mumble.
Maren glances at Patrick with playful intimacy that makes me want to scream. “Is Patrick a friendly boss?” she asks, technically aimed at me and Fee, but the tilt of her head is all for him. “I imagine he’s very… demanding.”
The way she draws out “demanding”—God, it’s so obvious. Their inside joke about what he demands in bed.
I’m going to throw up.
Patrick’s jaw tightens, his mouth pressing into a grim line, like he doesn’t appreciate the comment landing in front of me.
“I mostly deal with middle management,” I say.
“We should let you get back to your lesson,” Patrick says abruptly.
“Are you joining us?” Maren asks.
His eyes flick to me for half a second. His jaw tightens. “I’ll leave it today.”
Maren’s face scrunches in confusion. “What?” She reaches toward his forehead like she’s checking for fever. “You never miss a chance to surf. Are you feeling okay?”
He can’t bear to be in the same ocean as me. Probably worried I’ll try to touch him again underwater.
“I don’t have time. I’ll drop the board at the shop and head off.”
“Okay,” Maren says, still puzzled. She squeezes his arm and gives him a quick hug. “Catch you later.”
She claps her hands. “Right! Time to get wet!”
Perfect. Maybe the sea will be merciful and take me quickly.
Patrick heads to his Land Rover. I force myself not to watch him go.
We follow Maren into the shallows. The second the North Sea water hits my ankles, I yelp.
From shore, the waves looked gentle, almost playful.
Complete lies.
It’s not exactly tsunami conditions, but enough to make my stomach lurch with fresh panic.
“We’ll stay in the white water,” Maren calls over the wind. “Much easier to catch, and you won’t get pummeled by the big ones.”
I wade waist-deep, death-gripping my board. The water surges and drags at my legs, and I’m already struggling to stay upright without a single wave hitting me.
I attempt to climb on. The board shoots sideways. I splash down hard, salt water flooding my nose.
Coughing and sputtering, I scramble back on. A wave that wouldn’t bother a toddler sends me toppling off backward again.
I glance toward shore, checking Patrick’s leaving. So focused on his Land Rover that I miss the baby wave sneaking up.
It slaps me full in the face. I tumble off, surface gasping, hair plastered to my face.
“That was really close!” Maren yells cheerfully. “You almost had it!”
Almost had a concussion, more like.
