“Yeah, I’m supposed to be teaching you etiquette.” I try and fail to keep reality at a distance. I much prefer this happy little island.
“So, I take it that I’m not supposed to kiss my coach.”
“Probably not. I didn’t read the entire employee manual, but I’m guessing it’s forbidden.”
“What happens on Isle Royale stays on Isle Royale,” Grey says.
I giggle.
“But I might want to take it off the island at some point, in which case, there’s one more thing I want to know and you owe me an answer to a question,” he says.
A thread of tension appears in my neck where there had been none.
“Anything else I should know about Todd, aside from him being a world-class jerk?”
My breath turns shallow.
“I’m not asking to pry, but because I want to know what we’re dealing with if he decides to show up.” Grey goes silent.
He’s quiet long enough that when I turn to look at him, his expression is all stone.
Letting out a sigh, he confesses, “Since we’re already married, I don’t want to be the kind of guy you’d want to divorce.”
We let out a joint exhale. For Grey, likely because confessing that came with a pang of vulnerability. For me, I feel invincible. He said that we’re dealing with Todd together—we. Having someone in my corner and his comment about being the kind of man I’d want to spend my life with is better than cookie dough.
“So do you want to talk about it?” Grey asks.
My first answer is found in a kiss I plant on his lips, telling him how much he means to me. The second is also on my lips. “Yes.” I’ll tell him anything.
“In addition to my father’s desire to rule the world with his ice and iron scepter,” I say only half-joking, “he set the lofty goal for me to become an Olympic medal-winning figure skater.”
Grey cocks his head. “Seriously? Wow. So you were good.”
I nod. “Up at four a.m. every day but Sunday. That was the one respite, thanks to my mother, who was a woman of faith and believed in a day of rest.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday.”
“How will we get to church?” I ask.
Grey points to the far edge of the property where the reflective tips of a seaplane rock gently in the water. “We fly.”
A shaky finger points at him. “You meanyoufly that thing?”
“You can trust me. It’s safe. My father taught me from a young age, and then I became licensed.”
“I’ll have to see your ID, sir,” I say in a mock-official tone.
“Sure thing, Mrs. Adams.” He winks.
“So you fly airplanes.”
“Not commercial, but small prop.” He nods. “And you skate. It was hockey or football for me growing up. Unfortunately, I was lousy with a pair of blades. But when the lake freezes over, maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”
“I bet it’s beautiful up here at Christmastime.” A sneaky, but happy little thought appears like a gift under a tree at that comment. Yes, we got married at the courthouse, but what if we celebrated during the holidays? Then I realize I’m getting way ahead of myself.
“As you were saying...” Grey nudges me.
“Just thinking about weddings,” I sing-song.
