45. The Man with His Crocs
Chapter 45
The Man with His Crocs
Rafe
I wrap up closing Ink she hops onto the counter, letting me take position between her thighs. I run my palms down to my knees and inhale everything about her.
I sigh. “Okay, I’ll leave you be. You need to work. And it’s Friday. You’ve got a dinner to go to.”
Without skipping a beat, she says, “Oh my God, yes, it’s Friday! Come with me to family dinner.”
My knee-jerk reaction is a resounding no . The hospital was fine. We’ve proven we can all exist without punches thrown. But spending an evening surrounded by the Davies brothers?
“Sounds like a recipe for disaster,” I finish aloud.
“Why?”
“I like your brothers. Mostly,” I amend. “But I’m still a fish out of water there. Let’s give it a bit.”
She pulls my hair until I’m looking directly at her.
“Ow?” I say with a chuckle.
“You’re not a fish out of water because you’re there with me. And if I say I like you, then they have to deal with it. You’re my boyfriend.”
I grin. “Boyfriend, huh?”
“Yes,” she says, sitting tall in confidence. “And my boyfriend taught me to say what I want.”
I place a palm on her spine with a broad grin. “And you want …”
“You. Always. Every day.”
I smile, kiss her on the lips once more, and nod.
“Then, twist my arm, Clever Girl. Let’s go to your family dinner.”
I don’t know what to expect at the Davieses’ house. I’ve walked by this place before—who hasn’t? It could be a landmark of this town, given how much the family is interwoven in Never Harbor. But it’s not the home I’m curious about. It’s the people inside it.
As I pull my motorcycle into the driveway, Bonnie knocks on my helmet.
“Park there. That’s my spot,” she says, directing me to a vacant space between a truck and a sedan.
Everyone must have a place here.
I take off my helmet, looking up at the tall house with its high turret and mishmash structure.
Sitting on the sloped roof, right outside an open window, is none other than Peter, looking down at us. He stares for a moment before waving. I return the gesture, only to have his wave transform into a middle finger, which I graciously return.
“You guys!” Bonnie whines, but I laugh, and I hear Peter’s cackles from the roof too.
If everyone has a place, where will I fit? Who knows? Maybe they can toss me on the roof, just so Peter can toss me right back off.
Bonnie grasps my hand, guiding me up the cobblestones to the front porch. I can already hear voices. Some inside, some that must be in a backyard.
We walk through the already-open door, and I hang my jacket on the foyer coat rack, even though Bonnie tells me it doesn’t matter and most of them just toss it on the couch. I’m doing everything correctly here though. I’ll do whatever it takes to make a good impression on her family—at least better than I have up to now.
Her little brothers, twin teenage boys, are in a room to the left. One with messier hair plays a video game. The lankier brother clicks through the viewfinder on his camera. An open door at the end of the hall empties into a backyard, where Sam and Melody run past, followed by Cassidy.
Everyone has a place.
Bonnie squeezes my hand. “You okay, Big Bad?”
“Yeah, I’m all right, Little Red.”
I trail behind her into the kitchen, where David Davies stands at the stove, rocking back and forth on his Crocs and humming a tune coming through the stereo. Even the wooden clock on the wall ticks in sync. There’s zero hesitation in a grin when he sees us. David holds out his palm for a handshake. I take it.
“Glad you’re here,” he says, side-eyeing Bonnie. “Was wondering when you’d turn up with our Honeybee.”
“Your house is … cozy,” I compliment. I fear it comes across as sarcastic, but I mean it. I point to the radio. “R.E.M.?”
“That’s right. You a fan?”
“Very much so.”
“See? I like him already,” her dad says to Bonnie with a smile.
“Let’s head outside,” Bonnie says, dragging me by the hand to another open door—do they never shut these things?—but before I can follow, I pause.
“I’ll meet you out there, all right?”
Bonnie’s eyes dart from mine to her dad’s before she slowly nods. “Oh. Okay.” She points to her dad. “Don’t be weird.”
“I’m gonna be as weird as possible,” he says.
Before she can argue, I give a tiny push, and she walks backward out the door, narrowing her eyes and directing two fingers to hers, then to her dad, and then to me.
David laughs. “She’s a handful.”
“Sure is.”
“So,” he says, smacking his spatula against the pot, “what’ve you got for me?”
“What?”
“You wanna discuss her dowry now or later? I can offer two apples, but I stop at three.”
I laugh. I don’t know how to say that, even if dowries were still a thing, I’d be just fine stealing her away with no intentions of having anything but her.
“I … Mr. Davies?—”
“David is fine, son.”
“David. I want to apologize for the way things shook out at Wendy’s baby shower. And for how things happened this summer. I need you to know that I would never take advantage of an employee. I would definitely never take advantage of your daughter.”
He stares at me, all while casually stirring. “Uh-huh …”
I click my tongue. “I have no clue what I’m doing. I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right actually. But I do know that I love Bonnie. And as long as she’ll have me, I’ll be trying every damn day to figure this thing out so I can attempt to be even a fraction of the man she thinks I am.”
He hums. “Well, that’s quite a speech. You been practicing?”
I huff out a laugh. “Believe it or not, no.”
David smiles, nodding. “I believe you.” He glances over my shoulder. His smile grows into a beam. It looks just like his daughter’s. “I have a feeling the woman you love is not so excited about this conversation.”
I turn around and catch the tail end of Bonnie glaring and doing some form of motion with her finger across her neck, as if to say, Cut it out , or, You’re dead .
David responds with covering his heart with both hands, as if shot, his tongue lolling out dramatically.
Bonnie seethes.
“Honestly?” He leans in closer to me. “She’s the least of my worries.” He raises his eyebrows. “It’s you I worry about.”
I smirk. “Yeah? You and me both.”
Finally, Bonnie runs in to grab me, dragging me out to the backyard and away from her dad with a petulant groan. Out here, people lounge at a long picnic table or in chairs or in the massive tree house with a rope bridge and steering wheel.
Jasper has an arm around Wendy, who talks to Marina. Peter runs with his niece around his shoulders, Sam laughing behind them. Cassidy bops up and down with their newborn tucked to his chest, talking to Bonnie’s mom.
Everyone has a place.
Milo, alone on a bench, gestures for us to sit by him.
“Where’s Harriett?” Bonnie asks.
Milo sighs. “We broke up.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“ I broke up with her.”
“Oh.”
Bonnie and I share a look before I ask, “Why?”
He hesitates for a moment. “I don’t know.” He’s wistful, looking up at the sky before adding, “I guess she was the wrong person.”
Bonnie pats his back. “Someone else will come along, Lo.”
“Ugh, don’t call me that.”
“I thought you loved it,” Bonnie taunts.
Milo gives me a look, and I shrug innocently. If he wants me to tell her to stop, that’s not my job. There’s no turning down that woman’s energy, and I have zero intention of trying.
We change the subject to chat about Milo’s job—he’s apparently hunting again—and he asks about Bonnie’s new role with Teagan. We discuss little baby Pearl, and then he asks about Lulu’s studying. In fact, he seems very interested in Lulu’s studying.
If Milo were anyone else, Bonnie would be smart enough to pick up on this too. But, as of now, her brother being interested in her best friend might be a blind spot. That’ll be something to discuss later, but it’s also not my place to do that with her.
Eventually, everyone lines up at the picnic table to get food. When we sit, every person has a familiar side of the table they prefer and an unspoken designated spot on the bench. I stand there awkwardly.
Everyone has a place.
I don’t know where I could possibly slide in. But Bonnie takes my hand and directs me to a free spot in the middle, right across from Wendy and Jasper.
There are more conversations—some as a full table, some in small groups. But whenever I talk, people seem to listen. And even when I try to get out words that end up stumbling instead, Bonnie grabs my hand under the table in reassurance, just like she did at my mom’s house.
I guess it doesn’t matter who fits in where or whether I have a place.
As long as I’m with Bonnie, I’m home.