Chapter 6 #2
She sets the bowl in front of me and watches until I take a bite.
“Good?” she asks.
“Always,” I say. “Thank you.”
She smiles, then studies me the way she does when she’s thinking about something she hasn’t decided to say yet.
“I’ll think about the book truck coming here,” she says softly.
And I know she will. She didn’t always stay home as she does now. She never talks about why she doesn’t want to leave. But the few times that she’s tried, she’s had panic attacks.
“Okay.” I nod. “I think it would be cool if you could look at all the books they have to offer and see what you like.”
She searches my eyes. “You look tired. Got a lot going on?”
“It was a long week.”
“It’s Tuesday.” She laughs.
“Yeah,” I say with a chuckle.
She looks back down at her books. “You like being busy.”
“I do.”
She flips a page, then glances up again. “But you’ve been quieter.”
I freeze for half a second. “Have I?”
She smiles gently. “I know you, Cal.”
I blow on the soup. “Nothing bad. Just thinking.”
She reaches across the table and pats my hand. “Thinking is allowed.”
I laugh. “Good. I was worried.”
She squeezes my fingers. “I’m proud of you.”
“For what?”
“For showing up,” she says. “For taking care of things. For being so good to your pain-in-the-butt mother.”
My throat tightens. “You don’t have to worry, Mom. I’ll always help you.”
“I know,” she says. “I just want you to remember you get to want things for you, too.”
I look down at the table. “I have things.”
She tilts her head. “Do you?”
I think about the bar. About the boat. Surfing. What I try not to think about is the woman in a wedding dress who trusted me without knowing my name.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I think I do.”
She smiles like she already knew. “Good.”
I finish eating and stand to wash the bowl. She looks tired so I straighten up the grocery bags and push in my chair.
“Gonna head out,” I tell her.
“Hot date?” she teases.
“Nah. You know I’m not looking for anything serious.”
She cocks her head to the side, eyes narrowing as if she can see through the cracks in my words to the truth behind them. “Just because you’re not looking doesn’t meant it won’t come looking for you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say with a chuckle. “See you later.”
She looks up. “Cal?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for the books. And the groceries. And everything.”
I smile. “I love you, Mom.”
She smiles back. “I love you, too.”
I step outside into the warm afternoon, feeling lighter than I did when I walked in.
Sometimes love looks like big gestures. Sometimes it looks like books and soup with your mom.
When I climb into my truck and turn the engine over, “White Wedding” by Billy Idol blasts over the speakers. And, of course, Silvie’s face pops up in my head. Again. Maybe I need to swing by and check to make sure she’s okay. Then, I can finally move on.
That’s all it is.
Worry over a sad, runaway bride.
Nothing more.
I turned around three times before I actually made it here. Three times. My brain tries to be logical and remind me I don’t do this. Yet here I am.
Sitting in my truck across the street from Birdie’s house because I just can’t let it go. I need, for some crazy ass reason, to know Silvie is okay.
With a frustrated sigh, I exit the truck and then stride toward Birdie’s place.
I’m halfway up the front walk when I hear Silvie’s voice. I glance over, and she’s not on the phone. No, she’s talking to something on the ground.
I slow to a halt and frown. She’s sitting cross-legged on the front porch, in the shade, barefoot, with her hair in a messy knot on top of her head. She’s in one of Birdie’s oversized hot pink shirts and talking seriously to a very large iguana.
The iguana is staring back at her like he’s considering her life choices. And I sort of am too.
“So, here’s the thing,” she says gently. “I didn’t plan on coming here. But here I am. I feel like you understand me. Don’t you?”
The iguana blinks. I stand, watching this unfold, my arms crossed. I’m wondering if this woman is sane or just adorably cute and a bit lonely for wanting to talk to an iguana.
She nods at him as if he’s just responded. “Exactly. You get it.”
I clear my throat.
She darts her head my way, startled, but I notice she seems nervous, and she fidgets, pulling her oversized T-shirt down. “Oh. Hey.”
I gesture between her and the lizard. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs, then tilts her head at me. “Why?”
I squint. “I thought for a minute you were talking to an iguana.”
She looks down at him and back at me as if I’m the odd one here. “Well, I was.”
The iguana lifts his chin at me like he’s challenging me.
I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. “Okay.”
She smiles, all sunshine and zero shame. “His name is Iggy.”
Her mood is considerably better than when I saw her last. Being sober probably helps. There’s a casual easiness to her that didn’t exist before. I feel like it’s good for her.
I move to stand in the shade next to her, and Iggy hisses at me. Great. An asshole lizard.
I take a step back. “Iggy doesn’t like me.”
“He doesn’t trust men at first,” she says solemnly. “We both have that in common.”
I glance at her. “Is that so?”
She nods. “I think he could be an emotional support iguana.”
Iggy takes another aggressive swish of his tail.
“You seemed to trust me last night. I’m a man.” I inwardly groan because what the hell am I even saying. Are you flirting with her?
My brain hisses at me, much like the testy iguana, reminding me it already told me coming to see her was a bad idea.
“I don’t think you count,” Silvie says with a small smile. “You’re a rare specimen.”
Iggy takes another aggressive swish.
Great, now she’s flirting back. This was not how this was supposed to go. She’s heartbroken and piecing her life together. I’m over here trying to keep life simple and untethered. But, with a few teasing words, I can feel us entangling.
I should leave. My mouth opens to tell her goodbye, but no words come out. Idiot.
She stares at me for a beat, her face free of makeup and genuinely beautiful.
She looks too young to be having the life problems she’s clearly been up against. I wish I knew her story.
I hate that I want to know because, dammit, Cal, that’s not keeping it casual.
That’s called getting invested and I don’t do that.
Not even for gorgeous runaway brides…
She pats the concrete beside her, and the iguana settles in next to her. “He lives under the hibiscus,” she explains as if I’ve been waiting to hear the iguana’s story my entire life. “Birdie says he’s been here longer than most people on the island. Did you know they live a very long time?”
“That tracks,” I say with a grumble. “He looks old and judgmental.”
Iggy hisses again, louder this time.
She gasps. “Iggy. Be nice.”
I laugh, full and surprised. “I’m glad you’re doing okay, Silvie.”
Now, walk away, man. You came, you saw, and now you must leave or you’re going to get in too deep. This is dangerous territory.
She looks up at me then, really looks at me, and something soft settles in her expression.
“Yeah,” she says. “I think I am. Even if I am talking to iguanas.”
I shrug. “Especially if you’re talking to iguanas.”
Iggy scoots closer to her foot like he’s chosen a side.
She smirks. “See? He likes me.”
“You’re not hard to like,” I blurt out and then inwardly groan.
What is my deal around this woman?
She peeks at me from beneath her lashes as if my words embarrass her. “You’d be surprised. There are people who really don’t like me.”
Now that, I don’t believe for a second.
“Then they’re morons,” I say simply.
I lean against the railing, arms crossed, watching her talk to the iguana like this is the most normal Tuesday activity on Earth.
She smiles and looks down at her hands in her lap.
Iggy hisses again, and she glares at him. “Stop threatening my friend.”
Friend.
It feels safe. My brain agrees. But that word does something strange in my chest. There’s an internal battle over how my brain and heart feel about it.
She stands, dusting off her legs, then looks at me like she’s bracing for judgment.
“You think I’m weird,” she says.
I meet her eyes. “I think you’re talking to an iguana.”
She waits.
“And,” I add, “I kind of love that.”
My heart thumps at those words as my brain misfires. Idiot. What part about “don’t flirt” do you not get, man?
Her smile is slow and she looks pleased. “Good. Because this iguana is the only thing helping me hold it together right now.”
Iggy lunges at my feet.
I jump. “Okay. I don’t love that.”
She laughs so hard she has to grab the railing. When she grows serious again, she says, “Thanks for last night. For getting me home safe.”
I grin, unable to help it, because apparently my rules have flown out the window. “Any time.”
She freezes for half a second, then looks at me, eyes bright. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around, Cal.”
“I guess you will, Silvie.”
And, stupidly, I can’t wait.