Page 9 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

Today is the Fourth of July. Awkwardly, I invited her to join me on the boat. The thought of leaving her behind while I was heading out for a day of fun felt bad-mannered, but she declined and said she had something she was working on. I didn’t argue with her or insist she come. I don’t know, it’s all just so strange, and the thought of explaining any of this to Jonah or Vivi, I’m just not ready to yet.

A beautiful woman is living in my house. A woman I’ve sort of known over the years. A woman who is my best friend’s little sister.

Although she’s definitely not little anymore.

The first time I met Lily, she was still in high school. Of course I had seen pictures of her. After all, Lance was my roommate, but up until that trip to tour the college, she had never joined his parents in visiting to come to one of our games. Lily played soccer and was in a year-round league. According to Lance, her schedule was even crazier than ours, but the second she walked into our apartment, it was like I had known her just as long as him.

That Lily was young, full of excited naive energy, and wholly fit the sibling category of the second child. The Lily she’s become over the years feels entirely different. I first noticed it at Lance’s wedding. That energy she brought with her to Miami was tamed, as she presented herself in a way that screamed complete class. Her posture was always on point, she never spoke out of turn or too loudly, and she’d changed in a way that said here’s a confident young woman. Don’t get me wrong, she still shared her large, gorgeous smile, but it was carefully given versus out all the time.

Personally, I liked seeing her smile all the time. She was meant to be smiling, not containing her infectious joy.

“Thanks for taking us out today,” Jonah tells me as we pull out of the canal and into the bay. Today, I’m taking us to one of my favorite spots near St. Petersburg. Not many people stop for the row of tiny islands, so I’ve always found the solitude nice. The fishing is also great as the current pulls between the islands and the fish just go with the flow.

All around us, boats are heading in the same direction, with the same plan in mind: fun, sun, and maybe a little fishing, although after glancing at Jonah, I don’t think there will be much fun. He looks like his favorite pet just died, and he’s acting like it too.

Last year, after the Tarpons gave me a three-year extension, I settled in and upgraded from the boat I had and bought this one. Well, technically, it’s not a boat, but a yacht, but it’s on the smaller size at thirty-four feet and is designed for fishing and water sports. But the moment I saw it, it was love at first sight. It can hold a nice-sized group of people, but really, I keep my trips out onto the water low-key. If Jonah and Vivi aren’t with me, then I’m by myself.

“Of course.” I glance at him and give him a once-over. Something is definitely wrong, but I don’t want to ask. His shoulders are more slumped today. He hasn’t smiled once, and in general, he looks lost in thought. But if I’ve learned anything by now, when it comes to him, if he wants to talk, he will. If he doesn't, then he won’t. He and I are alike in that sense. I’m also certain he’s noticed my mood shift as well. By this point, I would have at least cracked three jokes, but I haven’t even said one. I love it when Vivi laughs, but I don’t have the brainpower to be funny today. My brain is stuck on the woman back at my house and the list of rules she wants me to come up with. I get it. She’s asking for boundaries so she knows I’m okay with this arrangement, but still.

My first rule . . . no roommates.

And it’s now been broken. Not that she knew I had this rule for myself, but nonetheless, it was broken.

Letting out a deep sigh, I keep my eyes trained west. While the weather is beautiful right now, the summers in Florida are known for their afternoon showers. They pop up out of nowhere, wreak havoc, and then they’re gone in fifteen minutes. During those few minutes, you don’t want to find yourself on a boat, in squall-like conditions and in the middle of it.

Pushing down on the throttle to pick up the speed, I turn on some music to break the silence and flip my hat around backward so it doesn’t fly off. Vivi smiles at us and starts wiggling to the music. Jonah has her in a dance class, which was a smart decision on his part. She’s always bopping along whenever the music is on. She likes it.

Vivi is sitting in the front of the boat looking like the cutie pie that she is. She’s wearing a long-sleeved pink sunshirt over her bathing suit, hot-pink sunglasses, and her hair is pulled up into a messy blond ponytail. While she would love to stand at the bow all “king of the world,” my fear of her falling and getting swept up under the boat is too great to let that happen, so she’s required to sit on the built-in benches. She doesn’t argue. She’s a great kid, and she just loves to feel the wind.

“Vivi, want to do some fishing today?” I ask her. After Vivi moved in with Jonah, I bought her her own rod and reel, and she’s done really well with it. She has no problem putting the bait on the hook, and she does a great job casting and snagging.

“Sure, Uncle Tyler. But no crying from you when I catch the biggest one,” she taunts, without even tearing her eyes away from the horizon.

I turn to face Jonah, and silently, my expression says, “Did she just talk smack to me?”

He chuckles because it sure sounded like she did, and the funny part is I know she got that sarcasm streak from me, not him.

“As long as you know the rules. You catch it, you clean it.” I smirk at her.

She tilts her head a little as she thinks about this, and then she looks at us and shrugs. “Okay.”

I’m not sure if she’s ever seen anyone clean a fish. Usually, I take care of that when we get back to my house while she and Jonah head to theirs, so I’m thinking in her seven-year-old mind, she thinks she’s just giving it a bath.

“You know there will be blood and guts, right?”

She looks over at us and shrugs again.

Well, all right, then. Maybe I do have a little fisherwoman in the making.

“We’ll get to a good spot in about twenty minutes,” I tell her. “I brought you some snacks too if you get hungry. Uncle Jonah might have a thing for fruits and vegetables, but I know what you really want.” I wink at her. “Pringles and Oreos.”

She brightens with excitement as she glances at Jonah, then her face splits into the largest smile.

“Yep, this is why I’m the favorite uncle.” I wag my brows at him. “Are you ready to report in two weeks?”

“Yep,” he tells me while frowning, and I laugh.

“You don’t look it. Your face is screaming, ‘Please don’t make me,’ when it should be lighting up with, ‘Can’t wait!’”