Her gaze lingers on me, softening as if a forgotten memory has drifted back to the surface. “You do own a boat. Her name isNatalie Dawn.”
I’ve always wanted a boat. Curious, I lean in. “Did I name it after Natalie when I found out you were pregnant?”
“Your father named it after your mother.” She gets up and puts our empty plates in the sink. “We’d take it out all the time. An ’88 Cape Dory. Sometimes you took me with you to Belize on your work trips. Once we even took a weeklong sail.”
My mother. Her name was Natalie. The urge to know everything, all at once, hits me again. Hard.
“I’ve gone through most of the boxes in the closet,” I say. “And I’ve been studying the map of Carter’s Drop.”
Other than the dive knife my father gave me, most of what I found in the closet was just generic stuff. Dive equipment, framed certificates, college photos, and other odds and ends. Nothing triggered any memories.
“I haven’t started on my journals yet. I’m going to dig into those tonight.”
She starts washing the dishes, and I take a closer look at her. In a short white cotton dress, she moves through the kitchen like a light breeze. The soft folds of the fabric skim her toned legs as she moves from side to side. She’s barefoot, her hair slightly damp from her own shower.
I step closer, closing my eyes for a moment as her scent reaches me. My muscles tense all at once—wired, restless—like I need to move, to do something. “Here. Let me get these,” I say, my voice tight.
She doesn’t object, stepping aside to let me take over, watching me from the counter. The memory of kissing her rushes to my head, and I try to push it away. I’m so distracted by how my body reacts to her when all I want is for my mind to catch up.
“It’ll take time to go through everything, but you will.” Her eyes light up. “You were so comfortable today. Right back in your element.”
I laugh at that. “Oh, so did I always do stupid shit like I did today?”
“Well… maybe you have always pushed it a bit. But you were a natural out there. Still a sailor through and through.”
And she’s my siren.
“Do you think there’s time to look at some photos together?” I rinse the last dish and dry my hands. “I know you’ve got to finish getting ready for City Hall.”
“I have time. And I’m about as ready as I’m going to be.”
“Did you find out what happened with the Coast Guard and that ship?”
She nods. “They were on the ship by the time Finn got there. He handled them. Apparently, he’s got someone powerful in his back pocket. He won’t say who.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re expecting tonight’s meeting to be a spectacle. The meeting should answer the townsfolk’s questions about the reefrestrictions, but with that huge ass ship parked just offshore, it’s becoming sensational—fast.”
“What do you think of him?”
“Who? Finn?”
I study her face.
“Honestly, I’m not sure what to think. Do I think he’s who he says he is, and that he wants to find answers? Yes. Do I think he’s telling us everything? No. He’s as much as admitted so.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Trust?” She bites down on her lip. “Ask me that again in a few weeks.”
Leading me to the leather armchair, she opens the picture album and snuggles in beside me.
I slide an arm around her. Her closeness kicks my heart rate up, and I swallow audibly. Her soft curves press against my side, warming my skin and my blood, and that scent of her…
“Is this good?” she whispers, her weight shifting slightly.
I nod. It takes a moment to find my voice. “That’s some album,” I say hoarsely. At least eight inches thick, it’s crammed full of photographs.
“I only keep the ones that mean the most.”
She flips to a page filled with photos of a place I recognize right away. In the middle is a photo of me lying on a towel, eyes closed. I look so young.
