She snorts. “You want to carry my fat ass through a mile of loose sand?”
“First of all, don’t call my girl that. Secondly Fuck yeah. You think I can’t?”
She gives me this sly look, and for a second I know exactly what she’s thinking: she wants me to prove it. So I do. I squat down, let her climb on, and stand up with her arms locked around my neck.
She squeals, but not loud enough for anyone to hear, because there’s no one out here this early. “I was kidding! Jesus, Anthony, you’re gonna throw your back out.”
“Please. You weigh less than a rescue dummy,” I say, and she smacks me on the chest. “Hold tight.”
I walk the rest of the way to the gazebo, her clinging to me and giggling in my ear. The last stretch is the hardest, but I’m not letting her down until I reach the blanket. When I finally do, I kneel and let her slide off onto the cushions. She’s breathless and a little pink in the face.
“God, you’re a showoff,” she says, but there’s pride in her voice.
I sit next to her, open the cooler, and hand her the thermos. “Try it.”
She takes a sip, eyes going wide. “You made it with oat milk. You remembered.”
“I always remember.”
She sips again, then looks out at the ocean. “It’s beautiful,” she says, and this time she means it. “You can’t see any houses or people. Just water and sky.”
“That’s why I like it.”
She tucks her legs up under her, careful to keep her shoes off the blanket. “Did you ever come out here when you were, you know, watching me?”
“Yeah,” I say, no point lying. “A few times. When things got rough.”
She turns to look at me, chin on her knees. “How the fuck did you even move through this sand without getting totally exhausted and without me hearing you?”
I grin. “I’mveryathletic and very sneaky.”
She rolls her eyes. “No, really. You’re huge and you walk like a cat. It’s unnatural.”
“It wasn’t easy. But it was worth it.”
She stares at me for a second, then shakes her head. “You’re insane.”
I reach into the cooler and hand her one of the sandwiches. “Eat. You’ll feel better”
She takes a bite, chews thoughtfully. “Did you make this?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s really good. Like, suspiciously good.”
“I used to cook for my team,” I say. “They’d kill each other if I didn’t keep them fed.”
She snickers. “Were you the mom of the group?”
“I guess you can say that. I was the boss. The boss always feeds the crew.”
She holds up a strawberry. “And these? Is this some kind of metaphor?”
“Nope. You just always eat them first.”
She pops it in her mouth, chews, then licks her fingers. “You’re a weirdo, but I like it.”
We eat for a while, not talking much. The wind picks up a little, but the sun is strong enough to keep us warm. She leans back on the cushions and closes her eyes, face tipped up to the sky.
