“I don’t give a fuck if a penis fish swam up his dick—” I interrupt, only to be interrupted right back.
“Actually, what you’re thinking of is a marine spoonworm.” Saylor chuckles, and I shoot him a pointed look. “But good to know you want me to talk to you.” His playful tone only stokes my anger, and I glare at him even harder.
“How can you just pop in anyway? Which one of them are you hanging onto?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. I have never heard of a ghost that would haunt every member of his family, but it could be possible.
People walking past me glance at me with concern until I manage to relax my scrunched-up face, replacing the glare with a neutral expression.
“What do you mean, hanging on?” Saylor inquires, clearly intrigued.
“Ghosts haunt people. You’re still here because of your or your loved one’s unfinished business,” I explain, attempting to keep my voice low and my lips still as I walk past an elderly couple, offering them a polite smile.
Saylor bursts into laughter. “What? Hell no, I’m not haunting anyone. I’m just here, and then I’m not. If I concentrate and know where my brothers are, I can feel their souls and maybe find them and be there, but most of the time, I don’t have a say in it.”
“What? But that’s not how this works,” I say, furrowing my brows as I finally arrive at the campground, mulling over his words.
“So, how does it work if you know so much?” Saylor asks, peaking an eyebrow at me.
Well, good question.
I bite my lip. “I can’t tell you either. I just know that you being here with me makes no sense. Ghosts are only meant to be with people they have a connection to.”
“Interesting,” he says in a flirty tone, but just as I’m about to retort, he vanishes once again.
“Stop doing that!” I hiss out a little louder, looking up at the sky in frustration.
When I exhale and turn to open my van’s door, I notice a young couple having breakfast in front of their tent, watching me with curiosity. I quickly remind myself to stop acting so weird and offer them a friendly smile and wave before I open the door and step inside, closing the curtains.
Yep, much less weird.
TEN
“Ugh… that’s so good,”I groan out, my voice muffled around a mouthful of cake.
After spending a couple of hours fuming in my van and contemplating my next move, my growling stomach finally got the better of me. So I made my way back to the café. Deep down, perhaps I longed for the company of a friendly face, especially with what I’d faced today.
I’m used to solitude, having learned to be alone early on the hard way, never having been someone with friends. But after my terrible morning, I’m fed up with my own company.
I take another bite of the delicious cheesecake, savoring the richness. When I arrived, there was nobody else in the café, so I seized the opportunity to confide in Tally, sharing all the details after she asked me about how the interview had gone, concern evident in her expression when she saw my face.
Then, after Tim’s day on the boat, he joined me, offering me a slice of Tally’s amazing cake. I ate with him, and now Tim knows all the details of my delightful encounter too. When I explained Mr. Jones had expected a Mr. Sloan Wilson, he had to laugh at first. He assured me he did tell Stephanie that I was a woman.He already thought this could be a hang-up in a shipyard where the secretary was the only woman.
I already feel so much better.
“That’s just so plain wrong. I know you would have done the job just as well as any guy,” Tally tells me, still seething with anger on my behalf.
“True.” I shrug. Having to prove myself to men is nothing new for me. I’ve always known I can handle a lot, often working even harder than them just to earn respect. However, in the past, I at least had a chance to prove myself, unlike this time, where I was dismissed before I could even introduce myself.
“North is such a dickhead,” Tally exclaims, her frustration evident. Tim quickly looks around the empty café before he puts a hand over her mouth as if to keep her from saying more.
“Shh… woman, he’s the one who pays our bills and gets little Timmy his crib and shit,” Tim teases, earning a bite on the hand from Tally. He quickly withdraws his hand with a hiss, shaking it out.
“This baby is not going to be named Timmy, for the hundredth time!” Tally glares at him.
I watch them bicker, a warm smile forming on my face. They’re adorable together. It makes me yearn for a connection like theirs, to have someone who loves me unconditionally.
Flaws and all.
I finish my cake and lean back, resting my hand on my belly as I let out a contented breath. “Tally, you’re a magician,” I tell her, and her face lights up with appreciation.
