I try to be positive. “He’ll come around.”
“You don’t know my dad.”
I shrug. “People do eventually.”
She studies my face like she’s trying to figure me out. “Are you always so positive?”
I smile. “Sometimes.”
She shakes her head, half laughing. “Weirdo.”
“You married me,” I pointed out.
She laughs more softly this time. “Yeah. I did.”
We finish breakfast quietly, and somehow, we always find excuses to touch. My hand rests on her knee. Her fingers brush the tattoos on my forearms, which I’ve noticed she’s been obsessed with tracing. We stand close when we wash the dishes. God, I can’t get enough of her.
She wanders off to shower, and I start a load of laundry. I see her journal laid out on the coffee table next to her bag, a pen resting on top. I don’t mean to pry, but I see my name and can’t help it.
At the top, it reads:
New Things for Me to Note
1. Never trust a man with a trust fund
2. Don’t let Birdie and the Bee’s drink too much sangria and wander off again.
3. Cal’s arms = illegal. Investigate those sexy tattoos further.
I laugh and set the pen back down.
Then I look further down and see my name underlined twice. And the words safe and happy next to it.
My heart warms at the thought that she feels safe with me. That’s all I want for her.
19
Silvie
Caland I are surprisingly both early birds. I learned that he doesn’t always close the bar. He’s more of an opener. And the night he met me at the bar, he was there by chance. Something he said he’s grateful for. We both got up and went about our usual morning routines. I did yoga with Summer on the beach, and he went and surfed until I was done. He picked me up on the way home.
And now he’s off having his weekly fishing date with Jonah, and I’m setting up shop in his kitchen to work. Morning light spills across his wooden table in warm stripes, the ocean humming outside, waves splashing steadily in the distance. Cal’s kitchen is cozy and quiet in the best way possible. I open my laptop and pull out my notebook and pen, my water bottle full and ready beside me. It’s time to get to work. Face the music.
I’m halfway through my emails when there’s a knock at the front door. I open it to find Wilby standing there with two coffees and his laptop bag slung over his shoulder like he’s ready to work.
“Hey,” he says. “You working?”
I step aside and hold the door. “I am.”
He hands me one of the cups. “I found the good coffee.”
I grin. “Best friend ever. Get in here.”
Wilby scans the room, takes in my setup, and joins me at the table. He pulls out a chair, and his movements are efficient. I’m reminded of why he’s my right-hand man.
“I’m surprised you aren’t working from the bar with him,” he says casually. “You two are awfully inseparable these days.”
I shrug and take a sip of coffee. “He’s fishing with Jonah this morning.”
