“It’s not. Those who do go dark to dark. Meaning they leave in the morning when it’s pitch-black out and return with the same lack of light. It is brutal in the winter. Lobsters then? The shells are hard, and the meat is less flavorful. Many switch to scalloping in the winter.”
“Ah, so my new friends are probably scalloping now?”
“Very likely.”
It feels like ages until Dave shuts down, but he finally sits next to me. He even slides over a cup of bisque, and Anj winks and waves as she leaves. Eric is closing up.
“I have to stop by my house. Mind following me? I could use a second opinion.”
“Of course not.” I drive behind him and park without totaling my new car.
We walk through his house and the work that’s been done, and he seems pleased. Not that I’m any kind of expert, but it’s kind of hard not to swoon at how beautiful the work is.
“It’ll be nice for you to be back here. Home,” I say.
He wanders for a bit and then gestures me out the front door. “Sure.”
We leave, and he walks me to my car.
“See you in a second.”
But before he takes even a few steps away, he stops and pivots. “So, you saw my grandmother?” he asks. “In that footage from Anj?”
“Yes. And your dad.”
He smiles as he backs away and opens his car door. “She’s ninety-five. A legend. She’s been covered by every news agency. I’m surprised you haven’t looked her up yet.”
“What makes you think I haven’t? She’s kind of a celebrity in New England. I’d be kind of an asshole if I didn’t know and love her!”
He laughs. “Oh, of course you know about her. While she doesn’t do all that she used to, my grandmother still measures lobsters to make sure they’re legally sized. Nothing seems to slow her down.”
“She sounds incredible. And I’ve seen videos of your dad, too. You never wanted to join the family business?”
He holds my gaze and then shrugs. His nonresponse tells me to let this go for now.
“Should we head home?” I ask gently.
Dave is for sure not telling me something here, but I reach out and grab his hand and hold it in mine for a beat before I nod.
“Anjanette gave me orders, so, yes, let’s go home.”
Dave laughs. “Disobeying Anj sounds terrifying, so I’m with you. Home it is.”
We simultaneously slam our car doors and drive. I know I’m blaring music, and I feel sure he is too. Amping up, escaping. Readying.
Dave beats me home by a few minutes—as I’m now a bit of a nervous and slower driver—and my Whiska Hargitay is howling when I walk in the door, but Dave is already plating up food for him. There is also a book readied on the counter. Dave has been planning on reading to my difficult cat. And while I want to change into something cute and sexy, I sit back on the bed outside of what’s become the cat’s bedroom and watch while he takes care of Whiska. He feeds him and then sits on the bathroom floor and reads from a beautifully illustrated children’s book about a little bear, Sam, who bakes cakes with his mom and delivers them to neighbors during a snowstorm. His voice is intoxicating.
I cheer along with the text.You can do it, Sam!
When Whiska has rolled over in his soft cube and is soundly asleep, Dave drops the book and finally comes to me.
I am even more fired up now after witnessing how he is so damn…Well, so damneverything. With me, with this cat. With how he seems to care about people in a world that feels mostly awful, and bigoted, and hateful these days.
He’s someone holding on to and delivering kindness.
Before he’s even touched me again, I’m melting.
David touches my shoulders, then caresses my frame up and down ever-so slowly. He finally moves a hand under my shirt and starts to lift it. Just an inch or two.
