Twelve
TWELVE
DANA
“Do you think it’s wise to go out with Rhett so soon after his memories have returned?” Rosa asks.
“You’re killing my excitement,” I say from inside my closet.
“I’m not trying to; I’m asking if you really think you’re ready for this. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think Rhett is bad for you. You’ve just been hurt so many?—”
“I’ll be protecting my heart the whole time.” I step out of my closet wearing a simple outfit of jean shorts and a floral tank top and primp a little in my mirror.
“Have you prayed about this?”
I meet Rosa’s gaze in the mirror as I adjust my shirt’s neckline. “I have.” It’s true, I have prayed, and the whole idea has built cautious excitement. I meant what I told Rhett—we need to get to know each other better this time around. So I prayed that God would give me the ability to focus on building a friendship with Rhett and not fall into his arms too quickly. “It’s not a date. He’s taking me out as a friend.”
Rosa’s shoulders visibly relax. “That’s good.” She nods, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her brain as if she’s deciding whether she should say what’s really on her mind or not. After a resigned sigh, she adds, “I didn’t want to tell you this before, but I think I need to. You know I don’t like going off of feelings since feelings can be deceitful, but there’s something about him that feels…off. Almost like he’s hiding something.”
That’s all it takes for a seed of doubt to plant itself in my chest, but I don’t admit that to Rosa. “Maybe you feel that way because of what happened before. Then finding out he has a son. I think we’re all a little off balance.” I told Rosa about Oscar shortly after she arrived. She knows everything. Which is probably why she feels the way she does.
Rosa sighs. “Maybe.”
I turn away from the mirror to face my friend. “Look, I know this is all…bizarre, but none of it has felt wrong . Instead, it all somehow feels right. It’s as if all these seemingly insignificant puzzle pieces are finding their way together. As if God is actively organizing this mess of a puzzle.” I ignore the hint of doubt from her previous words and work on convincing myself and Rosa that this is the right way to handle things. Lifting a hand, I tick the reasons off on my fingers. “I was the one who found him on the beach. I was the only person available to him when he had a nightmare in the middle of the night. I was the one he’s felt comfortable with since waking up on shore. It’s all led up to here.” The doubt I once felt fades into the background, still present but not making me actively question myself.
Rosa nods in understanding. “I’m not trying to question your choices or make you question your choices. I just want you to take a step back and look at all of this critically and—more importantly—through the lens of God’s will.” She takes a deep breath. “And I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
Those words are like a dagger straight to my heart. Rosa and Olivia are the two people I’ve run to each time a man chooses another woman over me. Rosa has always been beside me, comforting me and telling me it will all be okay. Crew is always there too, but his support usually includes asking me if I want my exes “taken care of” like he’s some top-secret mafia hitman.
I release a shaky breath. “I know. And I appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me. You don’t need to worry about that happening because Rhett and I are going out as friends. Nothing more.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that?” She pierces me with a look.
I stare out my window, thinking of how to best answer her. He definitely wanted a kiss earlier today, and it took all my self-control to turn him down. Everything about him is so tempting, but I know I need to set boundaries around my heart. Which means my lips need to keep to themselves. “I’ll make double sure that’s clear tonight.”
When I turn to face her again, Rosa gives me a half-smile, stands, and walks over to me. She places one hand on my shoulder. “Okay, you have a good time then.”
I still feel uneasy about some of what she said, but I shake it off and smile in return.
“You look absolutely stunning. Have I told you that tonight?” Rhett asks as he helps me into my chair.
We’re at the rustic restaurant we went to on our first date. Even though we’re not on a date this time, I’ve come to love this place—plus they have the best spinach and artichoke dip.
“Several times.” I laugh. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” I motion to him from head to toe before he takes his own seat. Rhett wears his thirty-six years well, the deep smile lines around his mouth only enhancing his appeal. The way he wears those dark wash jeans and button-down gray dress shirt has my heart pounding faster. When he sits, he rolls up his sleeves, showing off his impressive forearms.
This isn’t a date. We’re here just as friends. I create an internal chant, hoping that at some point, I’ll actually believe it.
The struggle started from the moment he picked me up. He met me at my door and took me down to his truck where he opened his truck door for me and helped me in. Once he got in on his side I gave him a warning look.
“You didn’t need to get my door. This isn’t a date.”
“My mama raised a gentleman. I’m just doing what she’d expect me to.”
I melted a little as he said it. Clearly, he loves and respects his mom. It’s safe to say a man like that will treat his woman well when he respects his mom.
Once we order our drinks and choose what we want to eat—including the spinach and artichoke dip—Rhett leans forward. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You easily could have walked right past me on that shore, but you didn’t. You stopped and helped me, the guy who hurt you.”
My throat thickens. “You don’t need to keep thanking me. I just did what I felt called to do.”
“Well, I’m just…thank you.”
The waiter arrives and places our drinks in front of us. Needing a lighter topic of conversation, I ask something I’ve been curious about since first meeting Rhett. “So, Mr. Tennis Instructor, how did you find yourself in the business of tennis instructing?”
He takes a sip of his water, and I can see his smile from behind the glass.
“You’re going to make fun of me for this.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Well, this should be good.”
“I don’t think I told you this before, but I grew up in near poverty. We lived in the projects and barely made it paycheck to paycheck.”
My smile drops and my heart goes out to young Rhett, who must have fought hard to get out of that. “No, you never told me.” Not that he had time to tell me much of anything in the week we spent together.
“My mom was amazing. She was a single parent and worked three jobs to keep me and my brother, Caleb, fed. Even though she spent countless hours at work, she somehow managed to be there for Caleb and me anytime we really needed it. As soon as we were old enough, we both went out and got jobs. Caleb was able to get a really good one working for the mayor. He of course got it with no experience or references.” Rhett’s nostrils flare, and I’m reminded of how he said he always felt like he lived in Caleb’s shadow. “As for me, I had my focus set on something else.” He pauses a moment and takes a drink. All traces of irritation are now gone, and a partial smile sits on his lips.
“I’m assuming we’re getting to the point where I will probably make fun of you.”
My attempt to lighten the mood seems to work as a new lightness fills his expression.
“We’re practically there.” Rhett clears his throat. “The something I had my sights set on was actually someone. She was one of the lifeguards at the country club pool.” Jealousy bubbles to the surface, but I quickly squelch it out. He keeps talking, unaware of the silent battle going on in my head. “We were in the same homeroom the previous school year, and no matter how hard I tried to impress her, I could never snag her attention. So when I found out she worked at the country club, I decided that I would try to also get a job there. The pool overlooked the tennis courts, and I thought if she was forced to look at me on the courts every day, maybe she’d finally notice me.”
I lean forward, intently listening to Rhett as he recalls this memory. “Well, I applied and then got the job. There was only one problem.”
I blurt out what the problem was as soon as I realize what it must be. “You didn’t know how to play tennis.” Unless there was a tennis team or they played tennis in gym class at his school, I’m not sure how a kid in Rhett’s situation would have learned how to play.
Rhett stares at me in shock. “How did you know that?”
I lift a shoulder. “Lucky guess. So tell me what happened with the job! Didn’t you have to try out or anything?”
“Umm, no. They overlooked that part of the application; apparently, the hiring manager was new and overwhelmed. From the first swing of the racket, the lead tennis instructor caught me in that lie, but instead of telling management about it, he taught me everything I needed to know over the course of my job training. He said he liked my confidence and that I put myself out there even with no experience.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I take it you were a quick study.”
“It turns out playing guitar and playing tennis work well in tandem. Something about picking up on the rhythm…” He trails off, looking as though he regrets what he just said, though I can’t figure out why.
My brows scrunch. “What’s wrong?”
He inhales a deep breath and releases it. “Nothing.”
I don’t want to risk it becoming awkward, so I say, “I’d love to know how playing tennis and guitar work together.” Rhett never told me he played guitar in our prior conversations—which I guess isn’t surprising—but I figure I’ll ask him more about that later.
Regret colors his expression as if he wishes he could take back what he just said. A muscle in his jaw ticks for a moment, and then the tense atmosphere dissipates.
“There’s a rhythm with both.” He starts tapping his fingers on the table to the song playing softly over the speakers. “Even when the tempo shifts faster or slower, there’s a rhythm that just…exists. It’s the same with tennis. Once the ball hits their racket, I can almost feel the rhythm of the ball.”
“I never thought of it that way, but I guess that makes sense. So you learned how to play tennis to impress a girl.” I don’t try to hide my smile. “Did it work?”
Rhett looks away. “Not even a little. Apparently, she had a big-shot football star boyfriend who was at college. They got married shortly after she graduated high school.” He shrugs. “But it ended up working out for me in the long run. When I escaped to Amber Island, I needed to find a job, and I got another tennis instructing gig that led into the lead instructor role.”
“Escaped?” My heart skitters to a practical stop. “What were you escaping from?”
Rhett goes silent for a long moment, his expression turning completely stoic before he answers. “Life.”
There’s another uncomfortable stretch of silence. Obviously, there’s more to Rhett’s story than I originally thought. I wait another minute to see if he expands on his cryptic answer, but he doesn’t.
For the first time ever, I feel uncomfortable in his presence. There’s so much about him I don’t know and it seems like there are things he’s still not ready to tell me. Things he's trying to hide. Just like Rosa warned. Rhett closes his eyes as though he’s trying to decide what to say next.
In hopes of pivoting into something lighter, I ask, “How did you get into guitar?”
It takes him a moment before he dives into the story of how he learned to play the guitar in high school after his music teacher gifted him one. Our conversation morphs into other topics as we snack on the appetizer and any discomfort I had before vanishes.
A few minutes later, our waiter arrives again, this time with our entrees. As soon as he steps away, Rhett reaches across the table and takes my hands, then we both bow our heads.
“Dear Lord, thank You for this day. Thank You for this woman and for giving me this second chance. Please help us to honor You and do everything for Your glory today, tomorrow, and each day to come. Bless this food to our bodies and help us to live for You in all that we say and do. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
“Amen,” I whisper.
Rhett catches my gaze from across the table, and my heart skips a beat. The look he gives me is so tender and sweet that my legs turn to jelly, and I’m grateful I’m already sitting down. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
I repeat “we are just friends” in my head to keep myself from falling too hard and too fast…again.