“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Your father was cruel on purpose. You were scared.” Grayson shrugs. “Still wrong, but different.”
The pelican chooses this moment to take off, massive wings beating the air as it launches from the marker and glides low over the water. We both watch it go.
“I want to send her the manuscript,” I say.
“Okay.”
“Not to win her back. Not as some grand gesture.” I shake my head. “Just because she deserves to see how I see her. To know what she means, even if she never forgives me.”
“That’s either very mature or very stupid.”
“Probably both.”
Grayson considers this. “What if she hates it?”
“Then at least she’ll hate the real me. That’s better than her hating someone I made up.”
He nods slowly. “That’s actually not terrible logic.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“You’re constantly full of surprises.” He sits up straighter. “Did you say the tide is dropping?”
I look over the side. The water level has fallen noticeably since we anchored. The mud banks are fully exposed now, and the channel is looking...narrow.
“We should probably go,” I say.
I pull up anchor and try to start the engine.
It turns over. Coughs. Dies.
I try again. Same result.
“Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Grayson says.
I look over the side at the propeller. Which is currently buried in mud.
“We’re stuck.”
“On a sandbar.”
“Yep.”
Grayson stares at me. “You’re a boat owner. How do you not know the tide schedule?”
“I was distracted!”
“By your feelings?”
“By the—yes, fine, by my feelings. Happy?”
He leans back in his seat, arms crossed, looking far too amused. “So we’re just stuck here until the tide comes back in.”
“About an hour. Maybe ninety minutes.”
