And when you put the whole package together, you get a guy who’ll likely make a very lucky woman very happy one day.
I’m trying to be happy for her—provided she deserves him, which she better, whoever she is—but my dinner is suddenly sitting sideways in my belly and my ring finger feels like the rock on it is dragging it down to the bottom of the lake while I’m still on the shore.
“How old is this thing?” Dane asks me as he pulls it toward the water.
“At least a few years, I think.” Has it always been here? I can’t remember. I didn’t pay attention the last few times I was here.
“Have you ever seen anyone use it?”
I shake my head.
He grins again. “Guess we’ll find out if she floats.”
“Are there paddle thingies?”
“Oars? Yeah.”
He kicks off his shoes as he gets the canoe into the water, wading out as he guides it deeper, rocking it a little side to side.
I place my shoes near Dane’s and head out with the small bag of dessert.
“Hold on.” He waves me back. “Testing it for leaks. Can’t have you sinking in the middle of the lake.”
“I can swim.”
“Chili can’t.”
I crack up. “Yes, he can.”
“Not twice in one day.”
Chili lifts his head enough to grunt in Dane’s direction.
“Is he picking on you, you poor thing?” I say while I rub the pup’s head.
He blows out a long-suffering breath and puts his head on my foot.
And once again, I’m cracking up.
While on a beach picnic with my pretend fiancé and his dog, getting ready for a dessert canoe ride at sunset.
It’s a role that hasn’t been in my dreams for a long time, but it’s a role that’s giving me the squishy-glowy kind of warmth in my chest.
Which isnot real.
But what can be real?
Being a good friend to Dane.
He’s a good guy. He deserves to be treated well.
And some of that means having fun with him.
“I think she’s good,” he calls. “You ready for your sunset dessert cruise?”
Aw, we’re even on the same wavelength with what to call the canoe ride. “Absolutely. Chili? You coming?”
The dog sighs, then lumbers to his feet like he’s put out, but he knows we need supervision.
