“I don’t want your money, Elizabeth.”
The way he says my name sends a chill down my spine, but I ignore it and press the money into his chest. His hand clamps over mine. “Please, you helped me out so much tonight. I insist.”
The last thing I want is for him to think I was some sort of user who doesn’t pay her debts.
“I…” He licks his lips, and I notice how pillowy soft they look. He is probably an excellent kisser, one of those types that make you think about it for years and years after it happened.
Get a grip.
Finally, he takes the cash and reluctantly puts it in his pocket. Giving me a stiff smile, he nods and says, “Let me know if you need help again.”
I smile gratefully. “I will. Thank you again so much.”
Basically shoving him out the door, I shut and lock it behind him, leaning against it for a moment to get control of myself.
I’m so damn embarrassed. I swear this man makes me lose my damn mind.
Going out with Trip was supposed to take care of my problem. I was supposed to have some “adult time”—and oh my gosh, did I say that in front of Derek?—and then forget all about the man who I was having literal dreams about.
Heading into the kitchen, I grab the leftover bottle of wine that Hattie and I haven’t finished yet, forgo the glass, and head to my room for the night.
Where I know that, despite the fact that he is clearly uninterested, I’m still going to dream of him.
Chapter Ten
“Sometimes all you need is vodka and sunshine. And a vent sesh with your girls.” - Viviana
ELIZABETH
When I was a teen and all the way into my adulthood, my family would load up in our large SUV, hook up our boat that we’ve had since I was thirteen, and head out to the lake.
Since becoming adults, Hattie and I haven’t made much time for this tradition, leaving it to our parents to take on, but now that I’m a mom myself, I want to make it something that Aurora would get to experience too.
The sun is high in the sky by the time we make it to the lake. Dad is impatient to launch the boat, and Mom’s trying to get the coolers she packed situated.
“Let me help, Mom,” I say again, trying to help her heave them up. Usually we load these empty and fill them in the boat, but for whatever reason, she ran it backward.
“Okay.” She blows out a breath and claps her hands. “Done! Let’s go!”
“I’m coming!” I turn and see my sister running down the long stretch of road that led to the water. She has a big sun hat on her head that she’s holding on to, and her cover-up leaves nothing to the imagination. Her sandals clop every step, and her bag on her shoulder overflows. “I’m here!”
“I didn’t know you were coming; you were gone when I woke up this morning,” I state, watching her eyes as they drill lasers into mine, and I realize what she doesn’t want said. “I figured you were working.”
“I was, well, kind of. Just, yeah. Are we going?” She moves past me and down to the dock.
My dad, Roger, comes out of the truck with Aurora in hand and passes her off to me. He looks Valerie, my mother, dead in the eyes and with more love and affection than I’ve ever seen on anyone else, and says, “You ready, babe?”
“Always, babe,” she answers.
Then he leans forward and kisses the bejesus out of her. I smile, and Hattie and Aurora cover their eyes, Hattie making it a game for my daughter.
My parents werethoseparents. The ones that found their soulmate when they were young, when all they had was the neighborhood kids around them and school to socialize. Before the age of online dating, of Facebook, of whatever other online platform there is today.
I envy them that. They grew up without all the pressures of perfection you see online.
But mostly, I envy that they have known since the moment they met that they would be together for the rest of their lives.
There had been a time when my naïve thirteen-year-old brain had thought I may have found something like that. When I went to camp as a kid, there was one boy who I liked, and he was the first boy to put butterflies in my stomach. I looked forward to seeing him every summer, because that was all the time we had together. During the school months, we’d all go our separate ways, all dreaming of the day we would be back at camp again.
