“Wanna hear something cool?” he asks, and my ears perk up. “We have the same birthday.”
“January twenty-third?” I ask even though he just said he knew we have the same birthday.
“January twenty-third.”
That’s interesting, I guess. What are the odds? Well, I know what the odds are. It’s one out of three hundred and sixty five. But what are the odds I would travel to Italy and meet a gorgeous man who takes me on a boat ride to a sea cave and has the same birthday as me? My guess is one in a gazillion.
“Why did you leave Pittsburgh?” I ask, suddenly interested in his story.
Rising from his seat, Asher walks toward me. His long legs only require three steps to reach me. I stand up straight from where I am leaning on the side of the boat. The top of my head stands just under his chin. He leans forward and grabs the orange out of my hand, brushing his fingers with mine. Ripping off the rest of the peel, he breaks it in half and hands the other half back to me.
“I don’t talk about that with anyone,” he answers with a wink, popping a piece of the orange in his mouth.
I put my hand on my hip and shift my weight to the side. “Are you just saying that because I said it earlier?”
He leans against the other side of the boat, directly across from me. “No. I don’t like to talk about certain aspects of my past. There are things no one needs to know and, quite frankly, I’d be happy never to speak of them again.” His answer is honest and concise, and, boy, do I understand.
“Your family is probably completely different than mine. All they want to do is talk. Talk about things that happened. Talk about feelings. Talk about the future. They want to make sure I’m okay, when their constant pressure is making me so not okay I want to crawl out of my skin.”
“Why don’t you tell them to stop?” He asks this like it’s the simplest suggestion in the world.
“My family . . .” Where do I begin? “They’re kind and sweet. My mom is the type of woman who wears cat sweaters where there’s a kitten wrapped in a ball of yarn with a saying that says, ‘Hang in there.’ And my dad, he’s this really cuddly guy who teaches history and reads James Joyce novels. I mean, who readsDubliner’sanymore? And he makes taffy. Like, a lot of taffy. But he doesn’t eat it. He makes it because he thinks we love it, but no one has the heart to tell them we don’t like it either!” My hands have taken on Leah’s Italian like way of talking, and I have to rein them in.
“You’re pretty funny, Emma Paige.” Asher crosses his arms, and the creases around his eyes form as he gives me a real smile. It’s luminous and beautiful, showcasing two divots on the side of his face. They’re not dimples, but they’re definitely only seen when he lets out a big smile.
“Nice to see my pain is entertaining.”
“I don’t mean it like that. It sounds nice to have people around you who care.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his stance changes and the light in his eyes falters.
“They do care, too much. But I don’t want to be taken care of, ever. They raised a strong, independent woman and, lately, all they do is hover—like I’m going to break. I’m not angry with them for the way they act. It’s the opposite. I feel awful. They have their own lives to focus on. I can take care of myself.”
Asher leans his hands on the edge of the boat and cocks his head to the side as if working something out in his head. I just gave him a mouthful. More than I even told my shrink, and that’s not saying a lot.
“Sorry for blabbering.”
“You apologize a lot.”
“Sorry?” I dip my head and cringe to myself even as I say it.
He smiles again and uncrosses his arms. “For someone who doesn’t like to talk, you seem to have an easy time talking here.”
He’s right. Maybe it’s the confines of the cave. They make me feel like I’m in another universe. Maybe it’s the fact we’re on a boat and far removed from the mainland. Or . . .
“Maybe it’s because I know I’m never going to see you again.” This time it’s my turn to be honest and concise.
He nods, the perfect arch of his brow a little straighter; his lips pucker in. Placing his hands in his pockets, he leans back on his heels and looks back at me.
“So, Emma, what would you like to do? I’ve offered my services to you and so far I’ve passed a rock formation I couldn’t tell you the name of and brought you into a cave I only discovered during an outing of my own last week.”
“Do you bring a lot of girls here?” I mean for it to come out sarcastic but I know it sounds anything but.
“You’re the first.” Those divots make an appearance again.
A tingle shoots up my back, and my eyes instantly fall to the side. I wipe my palms on the sides on my shorts and look at the rock surrounding us. Asher steps next to me.
The sides of our bodies touch and it’s not affecting me at all.
Nope. Not one bit.
