Chapter 29
“Good Sports. You’re on a recorded line.
How can I help you?” I’m standing at the bar at Peepers with Naomi and Sully, watching the door.
My heart is doing that thing where it has waited the allotted amount of time to see Stewart and it won’t wait any longer.
It’s eight o’clock, he said he’d be here right after his seven-o’clock call, and I now feel strongly that no call should ever be longer than an hour.
I have lost my mind. “Yes, that’s very common.
Are you new to walking for exercise?” Naomi hands me a margarita, and I nod my thanks.
“You should always consult your doctor before starting a new routine.” I look up as the door opens and Stewart is there.
He’s in pink, I’ve never seen him in pink, but now it’s my favorite color.
It’s a button-down, sleeves rolled up, and I see the glint of his grandfather’s watch, the one he takes off in bed because he thinks he’ll scratch me.
I feel that memory low in my belly, and when his eyes find me, a smile takes over my face.
“Holy shit, look at her,” Sully says.
Naomi nods. “This is what I’ve been saying.”
He’s walking toward us, and I just want to kiss him.
“In the meantime, I would wear the vest with lighter weights, just work up to it and get those steps in. Yes, exactly.” He’s shaking hands with Naomi and Sully, apologizing for being late.
I let out a breath into the phone. He should apologize for looking like that in that shirt.
“Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?” Stewart smiles at me. “Goodbye.”
“Hey,” he says, stepping toward me and kissing my cheek. His lips linger there for a second too long, and I feel him take in a breath of me.
“How was your call?” I fix my hair behind my ear. I am overly aware that my friends are watching us and that they can see this other me, the one who is all joy and nerve endings.
“I don’t even remember,” he says, and entwines our hands.
“So, Stewart,” Sully says. “What are you drinking?” The bartender wipes a spill and waits.
“I’ll have a beer and a cheeseburger. Thanks. Hope you guys don’t mind if I eat. I was on calls through dinner and didn’t want to be too late.” We’re all just looking at him.
“You didn’t need to rush,” I say.
“I did,” he says, and squeezes my hand.
“Okay, wow,” Sully says.
Stewart’s burger comes, and we move to a table. “I saw someone in a Whitness Protection T-shirt yesterday, was that yours?” he asks Naomi.
“It was. Do you like it? Kind of a play on Whitfield, like witness protection?”
“I got it,” he says. “I liked it. Do you design everything in the store yourself?”
“She’d like to,” Sully says. “But it’s expensive and time-consuming. Most of the stuff we buy in bulk, and it’s not Whitfield specific. Just beach town stuff.”
“A drink in my hand, toes in the sand,” Naomi says.
“Call me on my shell,” Sully says with an eye-roll.
Stewart laughs an easy laugh. I think back to the first time I saw him smile, like it was covered in cobwebs. Now he smiles all the time, and I feel it in my heart when he does, because I think it’s because of me.
“Must be weird living in a town named for you,” Sully says.
“It was really named for my great-great-grandfather, but also yes. A little weird. Most of the time I live in Boston though.”
He puts his hand on my knee and I’m not sure what he’s saying, but Boston is the place where we both live, where we will continue to be together is what I’m hearing. He smiles at me, and I have the sense that I heard him right.
We call it a night at ten because Naomi and Sully have to get back for their babysitter.
Stewart’s car is parked out front and we just stand there, holding hands in front of it, under the streetlight.
It’s still warm out and the town is wide awake.
Cars cruise slowly down the street, people spilling out of bars and restaurants, making plans as they pass us.
We’re just standing there, looking at each other, in a world of our own.
“I don’t want to say good night,” he says.
“Want to come sit on my front porch, listen to the bugs?”
“Yes,” he says. “It’s crazy how much I want to do that.”
We leave the car and walk the two blocks to Goose Lane.
The Goldbergs have hung their beach towels on the line, all stripes of different colors.
It looks pretty. We stand there for a second at the end of my front walk.
I can hear people laughing in the distance and the nighttime wail of crickets nearby.
We walk inside the dark house, where Gus and Clay are watching a movie.
“Hi, guys,” I say.
“Hey,” they say in unison. Eyes on the TV.
I make us each a cup of chamomile tea. It’s hot for tea, but I’m feeling so cozy inside my body, like my bed’s been made and my pajamas are laundered. Everything feels exactly right for the first time in forever.
We sit on the porch swing, and Stewart puts his arm around me while we sip our tea. “Why’d you ever leave here?” he asks.
“I was going to stay forever,” I say. “I love it. And always thought I’d take over the fish house.”
“The fish heiress,” he says. I smile.
“Exactly. But my dad was never going to see things my way, so I left for Boston to find fame and fortune.”
“It’s weird how much we have in common,” he says.
“Rhode Island’s great scions of industry.”
He pulls me closer and I drape my legs over his. “Gus has your same dream,” he says.
“He told you that?” I want a full transcript of these sailing conversations.
My favorite person sharing his thoughts with this particular man.
“He’s never said that to me. It’s such a hot button between my dad and me, he probably doesn’t want to start anything.
” I shrug. “But I like that he told you. He must feel very comfortable with you. That’s sort of a new thing. ”
“New for me too. I don’t have that many friends who are thirteen.” He smiles down at me. “There’s also a girl he likes, but I’m sworn to secrecy.”