“You okay?” Ellie murmured.
“Yes.”
“For real?”
“For real.”
The gull screamed again.
Ellie looked up.
“Now it’s becoming personal.”
I laughed and kissed her before it could file a formal complaint.
When we finally walked back toward the beach, Ellie held my hand again.
The steel-drum player had moved on to another victim. Rosa was closing the food truck. The teenage boy near the palm tree was still suffering through family photographs.
Nothing had changed.
Everything had.
At the path to my rental, Ellie stopped.
“Another lesson tomorrow?”
“Is this a professional invitation?”
“Absolutely.”
“Because that kiss felt like a serious breach of instructor ethics.”
“I’m self-employed. The ethics are flexible.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Eight o’clock?”
I should have thought about Rachel.
About the phone buried in my tote.
About the fact that every additional hour with Ellie made the truth larger and harder to carry.
Instead, I said, “Eight.”
Ellie smiled.
“Good night, Just Annie.”
“Good night, Emotional Table Owner.”
She kissed me once more.
Quick.
Warm.
