He looks over at me, one eyebrow raised in a sculpted arch above eyes that look black in the low morning light. He’s perfected the casual I’m-better-than-you-and-we-both-know-it look and delivers it with ease, thanks to that beautiful face. It probably helps that he is, in fact, better than most of us, hundreds of thousands of dollars richer that he is.
“Worried I’m holding a torch?” he asks lightly, turning and leaning back, arms crossed. I sigh again, and his lips twitch into a more natural and less antagonistic smile. “We’re good, Loh. Don’t worry about me.”
“So if I stopped by the Temptress and you were there, we could have a beer together?”
“Sure. You, me, and Ewan can have a nice chat about how good you look naked.”
“You’re the only one who’s seen me naked, and don’t be a dick,” I admonish him. He chuckles, low and soft in the dark. Light from the lanterns glints in the deep pools of his eyes.
“Give it time. He’ll get you there soon enough. That’s why he’s back in town, after all, and talk on the street is the pair of you are close again.”
Of course it is. You can’t take a piss in this town without everyone knowing how yellow it is. Scratching at my beard, I look away from him and over the black expanse of the water. The boat rocks gently beneath our feet, both of us compensating easily. Roy may have grown up on a sailboat, but he’s adapted well to the commercial fishing way of life, early morning grumblings notwithstanding.
“I didn’t come over here to talk about Ewan.”
“Well, sweetheart, I don’t think it’s possible to separate the pair of you. And why would you try? This is what you wanted, Loh. You wanted him to come back, and now he’s here. I was happy to fill the space while he was gone, but I’m not going to sit around and watch the aftermath, nor be a part of it now that he’s back.”
I flinch, even though the words weren’t delivered with malice. The tone was downright nice for Roy, honestly. This is exactly what I was worried about, though—him feeling like some sort of stand-in while I waited for Ewan, feeling as though I was only partially committed to our relationship, just in case the man I really wanted came back. I wonder if subconsciously it’s true, and exactly what kind of person that makes me.
“That’s not why?—”
“I know.” He cuts me off. “I told you we’re fine, and we are. Not sure I’ll be accepting any invitations to future barbecues, but I’m not tossing your voodoo doll in the fire either.”
I raise my eyebrows and address the most important part of that. “You have voodoo dolls?”
“Get off my boat. I’ve got work to do.” He smirks as he says it, eyes warm in a way that takes away the sting of the command. Pushing himself up, he approaches and touches my face, fingers sliding along my jaw. He stares hard at me, and I smile a little ruefully.
“We didn’t work very well together, did we? I was never really certain you liked me all that much,” I admit.
“I liked you most of the time,” he replies, which is such a Roy response that I laugh.
His hand drops, and I take a step away. I don’t think he was particularly concerned about holding on to me, and so letting go is simple. No voodoo dolls, no cursing each other’s names. We’re just going to keep on going with little lost on either side, which probably says volumes about the two-year relationship we cared little enough about to cultivate. I’m disappointed anyway, sadness and regret weighing heavily on my shoulders.
Walking over to the other side of the pier, I look at the soft glow surrounding theDrifter. Oliver is here. Indeed, I catch a glimpse of pale gold hair just moments before his voice is carried my way on the breeze. He’s singing too low for me to make out the words, but the sound nonetheless feels as friendly as a hug.
“Hey, Oli.”
“Morning!” he greets me happily, good mood seeminglyalways guaranteed with him. The cooler he always brings is under the standing shelter. Catching me looking as I pull on my oilers, he grins. “Lobster salad, spring rolls, and a new trail mix I threw together last night.”
“I’ve got to pay you more,” I mutter to myself. Oliver laughs, not far enough away for him not to have heard. I let it go, since he probably thinks I’m joking. I’m going to talk to Nils today, though, because truly, the man is putting in far more work cooking for us than he should, no matter how much he says he enjoys it.
“How’s Dryden doing?” Oliver asks, glancing over my shoulder at theMaiden Seas.
“Fine.” There’s never a day when I wouldn’t answer that question with “fine.” Roy works very, very hard to always be fine.
“That’s good. I know April is probably tough for him.”
Silently, I stare at Oliver. April is tough for Roy?
“Because it’s the low season?” I ask, completely nonplussed as to why any month would be tough for him.
“Well, just because of the divorce, you know? I’m sure it’s more heavily in his thoughts around this time of year, that’s all.” Oliver, misreading the look on my face, rushes to add, “Or maybe not! I don’t know. Everyone is different. Dryden seems pretty content, so maybe he doesn’t care.”
Divorce. Of all the things Oliver could have said, never in this lifetime or the next would I have expected that. If he’s divorced, that also means he was once married. Roy, who never once spent the night over at my house, who sneers and looks down his nose at tourists who come to Siren’s Point on theirhoneymoons. Roy, who only ever made me feel uncomfortable when I tried to get to know him on a level more personal than the relationship someone might share with their plumber. I’m not sure there could be a clearer indication of how shallow our partnership was. The knowledge makes me feel sick and a little sad for the pair of us.
Oliver, who hasn’t yet stopped talking even though I’ve ceased listening, pauses for a breath and a glance over his shoulder as Nils boards. Knowing I’m acting strange in his eyes, I clear my throat before he can start up talking again.
“We’d better head out,” I say quietly. Breathing doesn’t become easier until Oliver’s humming reaches my ears over the rumble of the boat.
