Gordon, my no-nonsense therapist, tells me this is par for the course. He says I haven’t figured out whether I’m ready to let go of the career that has defined me or to set stricter boundaries within it and create some positive change. Neither option sounds feasible right now, if I’m honest with myself, and not knowing where I’ll be in the fall terrifies me.
The surfing lessons I’ve actually started have been helping, at least to get me to physically exhaust myself enough to pass out at the end of the day, but it’s also nice to float around on the ocean for a little while. Life in Balsam Bay has been good. Great, even. I’ll get to see my parents soon, and then they’re coming to visit, which should feel… exciting. But it feels like more pressure I can’t cope with.
Whatever. I can’t dwell on that right now, because right now, I’m pulling up to Neve’s house to help her set up for this party. It doesn’t look like anyone’s here, so I start unloading things from my trunk and putting them on the back deck.
As I’m shutting the trunk of the SUV I bought last week—because, financially, it makes more sense than renting—the unmistakable crunch of gravel alerts me that someone is arriving. I turn to find the white truck I’d know anywhere approaching. The woman whose face I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to erase from my mind, at the driver’s seat, wide-eyed as she notices me.
When she steps out of her truck, though, my mind goes blank. She’s not in her usual work attire, nor is she in any of the casual outfits I’ve seen her in so far. No. My girl is wearing adress and heels, and fuck me sideways, it brings me right back to our weekend in Halifax.
“Hey,” she shouts with a wave. “So, uh, Neve and Leo are running late. Something about having to try three different stores for the right kind of sparklers for the cake. Pretty sure they’re having sex in the woods somewhere.” I follow her to the back of her truck, wondering what she’s doing and not wanting to lose sight of her. I’m also ignoring the sex comment.
I find her bent over the cab, ass in the air, grunting and muttering a few swear words. “This is a lot easier when I’m not dressed like Georgia’s fucking Barbie doll. Ugh.” With a final tug, she seems to give up her efforts, brushing her perfectly curled hair off her forehead.
“May I?” Fiercely independent doesn’t even begin to describe Billie, so I tread lightly and certainly don’t assume I can do better just because she’s in a dress. Also, I’m not an asshole.
“Please.” The word seems to physically pain her. I hold in a laugh as I reach into the cab for two bins, stacking them and carrying them to the backyard with the rest of the things I brought.
A moment later, Beth is walking out of the back door, slides that are too small for her feet replacing the heels she’d had on. “I popped the cake in the freezer. Do you need to put anything else inside?”
“I think the meat is fine in the coolers, but maybe I’ll throw the beer in there for now. How did you get in? Do you have a key?”
Her answering giggle makes my insides feel like Jell-O. I love the sound so fucking much.
“I do have one, yes, but it’s not like I need it since no one locks their doors here.”
“What?” I nearly drop the case of Leo’s favorite beer on the floor. “Ilockmydoors.”
“Of course you do, city boy. So does Leo. And to be fair, at night we do lock them. We’re not stupid. But during the day, when we know we won’t be gone long? Nah.” She eyes the IPA as I set the case in the fridge. “Leo’s fave. Nice. I got him his favorite ice cream cake.”
“I guess we both know our boy pretty well. It’s nice that he’s made good friends here. He needed this place. You all.” I don’t mean to get so serious, but sometimes this shit just comes out. I love Leo, and yeah, maybe I get a little emotional around birthdays because they’re special. Whatever.
“He’s amazing. And yeah, we take care of our own, you know?” Her smile is easy, the light from the fridge making her glow like an angel, and oh my God, I need to chill.
“I do.” After shutting the fridge, I walk toward the back door. “So, where do we start?”
“String lights,” she explains, pointing to the box next to the ladder. “Neve wants them strung from the pergola to the trees.”
“Cool. I’m good with heights if you want to tell me where they go.” I head for the ladder, trying not to think about how we’ve barely spoken since our last meeting. Since I told her it wasn’t fair and she agreed. Since I watched her walk away and had to physically restrain myself from following.
Once I have the ladder set up at the pergola post, I start to climb, ready with the hook I’ll need to screw into it.
“Here,” she says from below me. I look down briefly and continue my way up, now hyperaware of her hands gripping the ladder, her body just below mine.
This is a terrible idea.
“A little to the left,” she directs, and I shift the hook. “Perfect.”
Yeah. Fucking perfect.
We fall into an easy rhythm. I climb, she guides my hook placement, and we move to the next spot. It’s almost comfortable. Almost normal. Like we’re two people helping set up a party for their friend. Except every time our hands touch when she passes me the string of lights, or I catch a whiff of her fruity shampoo, I feel like I could pass out.
“So, how’s the marina stuff been going?” she asks as I’m securing lights to the fourth tree. “Did you hear back from that environmental firm?”
“Yeah, they’re sending someone out next week. Should have preliminary results by mid-August.” I climb down, careful not to get too close to her, and move the ladder to the next spot. “Has Peyton mentioned anything else about the 3D renders?”
“Yeah, she’s going to have something back to us early next week. She’s good. I think you’ll be impressed.”
“I’m sure I will be.” I glance down and catch her looking at me with a curious expression. “What?” I wonder if I messed something up.
