“Yeah.” She shrugs, then tilts her head at me. “Why?”
I squint. “I thought for a minute you were talking to an iguana.”
She looks down at him and back at me as if I’m the odd one here. “Well, I was.”
The iguana lifts his chin at me like he’s challenging me.
I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. “Okay.”
She smiles, all sunshine and zero shame. “His name is Iggy.”
Her mood is considerably better than when I saw her last. Being sober probably helps. There’s a casual easiness to her that didn’t exist before. I feel like it’s good for her.
I move to stand in the shade next to her, and Iggy hisses at me. Great. An asshole lizard.
I take a step back. “Iggy doesn’t like me.”
“He doesn’t trust men at first,” she says solemnly. “We both have that in common.”
I glance at her. “Is that so?”
She nods. “I think he could be an emotional support iguana.”
Iggy takes another aggressive swish of his tail.
“You seemed to trust me last night. I’m a man.” I inwardly groan because what the hell am I even saying. Are you flirting with her?
My brain hisses at me, much like the testy iguana, reminding me it already told me coming to see her was a bad idea.
“I don’t think you count,” Silvie says with a small smile. “You’re a rare specimen.”
Iggy takes another aggressive swish.
Great, now she’s flirting back. This was not how this was supposed to go. She’s heartbroken and piecing her life together. I’m over here trying to keep life simple and untethered. But, with a few teasing words, I can feel us entangling.
I should leave. My mouth opens to tell her goodbye, but no words come out. Idiot.
She stares at me for a beat, her face free of makeup and genuinely beautiful. She looks too young to be having the life problems she’s clearly been up against. I wish I knew her story. I hate that I want to know because,dammit, Cal, that’s not keeping it casual. That’s called getting invested and I don’t do that.
Not even for gorgeous runaway brides…
She pats the concrete beside her, and the iguana settles in next to her. “He lives under the hibiscus,” she explains as if I’ve been waiting to hear the iguana’s story my entire life. “Birdie says he’s been here longer than most people on the island. Did you know they live a very long time?”
“That tracks,” I say with a grumble. “He looks old and judgmental.”
Iggy hisses again, louder this time.
She gasps. “Iggy. Be nice.”
I laugh, full and surprised. “I’m glad you’re doing okay, Silvie.”
Now, walk away, man. You came, you saw, and now you must leave or you’re going to get in too deep. This is dangerous territory.
She looks up at me then,really looks at me, and something soft settles in her expression.
“Yeah,” she says. “I think I am. Even if Iamtalking to iguanas.”
I shrug. “Especially if you’re talking to iguanas.”
