He slants his head like he needs to process this new information.
I take his hand in mine and tell him something I’ve never told him. “I missed you before you even moved out. I couldn’t get through a shift without needing to find somewhere to cry. It felt like a breakup. I got used to being without you, but I never stopped missing you.”
He tugs me to him and cups my neck in his hands. “I thought about you all the time.”
I smile, and he kisses me softly.
“So is the plan to buy another suitcase to take all of those back with you?” I ask as we browse the shelves at Mermaid Tales Bookshop. George has three hardbacks and a notebook under his arm. He’s reading the jacket copy of a book about a couple living off the grid in the Clayoquot Sound.
“I’ll make it work.”
“I’m sure you don’t need another notebook.”
He looks at me, offended. “Do you know me at all? There’s no such thing—”
“As too many notebooks,” I finish. “My apologies.”
He glances at his watch. “But speaking of The Plan, we should head over there now.”
He pays for his books and leads me in the direction of the water.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” I murmur.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” George says, but he sounds nervous. “Today is about growth.”
“Ominous.”
“It’s about being open to new experiences.”
“Worse and worse.”
“And finding joy in places you didn’t expect. Maybe learning something about yourself along the way.”
“Oh god,” I say as we reach our destination.
We’re standing next to a wooden building on the harbor. I stare at the sandwich board out front, open my mouth to argue, and turn to George. His eyes brim with a hope that seals my fate.
“I hate whales,” I say pathetically.
“You don’t,” George says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t know about whales at all.”
• • •
“I thought you’dput up more of a fight,” George says as we put on our bulky red flotation jumpsuits.
“Me too,” I say, zipping up. “How do I look?” I turn around in a slow circle.
“Like one of Satan’s astronauts.”
“Ha.”
“So you’re not upset?” George asks as we take our seats at the front of a yellow Zodiac along with ten other passengers.
“I’m not thrilled,” I say. “But this boat looks fun, and I don’t actually have anything against most marine life.”
He smirks. “Just the whales.”
“Exactly. My animosity is purely directed at the whales, and we may not even spot any.”
