Still, he doesn’t make it to the mouth of the gazebo before he turns back and adds:
“If there’s anything I know for sure, Stella, and trust me, it’s not much, it’s that we only get to do life once. And the best we can aim for is to get out of our own damn way so we can actually start living it.”
Then he reaches back and helps me to my feet.
I hope Caleb doesn’t notice my hand trembling as he grabs hold of it. Because truthfully, it’s not the ledge this time that scares me.
It’s that my list of reasons to pretend to hate him is becoming shorter and shorter.
20
When we reach the resort restaurant, a little wiser and certainly a lot wetter, I see that a table has been set up at the edge of a magnificent infinity pool that looks over the bay.
“Oh my god!” My sister stands up when she sees us. “What happened?”
I hold my backpack by the strap so it conceals my lightly shredded leg.
“A little off-trail exploring,” I admit sheepishly. “Sorry I’m late.”
Luckily, no one asks any more questions. I let Caleb take the empty seat next to Tracy and sit down across from them both. When I do, his godmother throws me a sly smile that tells me she might be a little more astute than the rest of the lunch party.
“I’m not surprised,” Tracy says with a mischievous grin. “When Caleb was little, he and his brother used to get into all sorts of trouble here. Chasing sea snakes, wrangling the wild goats?—”
“Trace…” Caleb tries to stop her.
“One summer they decided they were going to learn to scale coconut trees like the local kids. It only took two days before Caleb slipped off a ten-footer and broke his arm.”
If the expression on Caleb’s face is any indicator of whatIlook like when I’m uncomfortable, I’m going to have to do a better job hiding my feelings. Guess Captain Perfect wasn’t always so good at everything.
“Stella was like that,” my sister butts in. “Always pushing the limits. She had a blanket fort built on our roof for three weeks that our dad only discovered when one of the pillowcases ended up on the front porch. Now you wouldn’t catch her dead climbing anything over five feet!”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Caleb mumbles quietly enough that most of the table doesn’t hear. But when I turn towards him, it’s Tracy’s eyes that catch mine—and she’s smiling.
Patricia’s “near death experience” yesterday seems to have raised morale considerably, because everyone at lunch is in a surprisingly good mood. Patricia and Tracy spend so long exchanging embarrassing childhood stories (my favorite being the one where Matthew confused a Hell’s Angel for Santa Claus and asked him for a power ranger costume) that lunch practically turns to dinner, and before we know it, the rain is back in full force. We grab our wine glasses, laughing and screeching as the deluge hits the table and we’re forced back inside. Even Matthew has a smile on his face as we settle into the dry sofas inside the open-air lobby.
“We’re going to have to split you up into two groups for the ride back,” Caleb says as soon as he finishes radioing Jim. “Our bimini only fits three.”
“That’s nauti for rain cover,” Steven leans over to whisper to me.
“Caleb, why don’t you bring the ladies back first,” Arthur suggests.
“So you four can drink yourselves to death?” Patriciasays, looking at the well-stocked bar behind Arthur’s head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll stay for the second boat,” Caleb nods to her. “Steven? Can you escort the girls back?”
“I’ll go,” Matthew offers, hooking his arm under his mom’s. “I need to make sure the Wicked Witch of the West doesn’t get wet and start melting.”
Patricia glares at him, but I can see the hint of a smile playing at her wine-stained lips.
“I’ll remember that remark when your next trust distribution rolls around.”
Armed with two large umbrellas from the front desk, Caleb chauffeurs us out across the dock. The formerly non-existent swell has gone rogue. Frothing white caps snap across the grey sea, slapping against the dock and rocking the tender like a little toy boat. Jim passes us raincoats from beneath the newly raised bimini, but there isn’t much point in wearing them. The rain is coming from every direction.
“We’ve got ourselves a proper squall!” Jim shouts as he helps Patricia and my sister load up. I can barely see his eyes from beneath the drawn hood of his raingear—just a soaking blonde mustache hanging limp out of the corners.
He motions for me to board after Matthew. But Caleb, who is no stranger to my lack of coordination, doesn’t risk it. He grabs me from beneath my armpits and lifts me into Jim’s waiting arms.
I let out a very embarrassing squeak as my feet touch down.
