chapter ten #2
“Thank you.” She takes a long sip, her eyes bouncing from mine to her cup and back again. “I’m sorry about your dad. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“It’s fine. He was a heavy smoker, and that’s what killed him in the end.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty.”
She swallows, her palm resting over her heart, her bottom lip pouting. “I’m so sorry, Riley. That’s awful. You were so… young. Barely an adult.”
I nod.
“I never knew my dad. He was a jerk. I’m glad you got the time you did with yours though, even if it wasn’t the lifetime you both deserved.”
Memories of Dad and me in the shed, planing and oiling hardwood together, hit me as if they’re happening in real time: the sound of sandpaper scraping wood, the smell of cedar… and tobacco.
I swig my beer. “He taught me everything I know.”
“About carpentry?”
“Yeah. I was his apprentice. When he died, I took over the family business.”
“Wow! That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“It was. But Roni now helps out in the store.”
“That must be nice… the two of you carrying on his legacy. I bet every time you complete a piece of furniture, a part of him has completed it with you.”
Eyes locked on hers, I pause, my burger midway to my mouth. In just that one sentence, Riles has understood a part of me that Krystal never did. Why I work so much. Why I love it. Why I chose to run the business when the business struggled to make ends meet.
Blinking, I take a bite and mumble, “Yeah.”
Her eyes soften for a moment, but then she brushes her hands together before pulling out her phone and tapping the ship’s app. “I wonder what’s happening in the theatre tonight.”
Again, I appreciate her ability not to probe beyond a point I’m not ready to talk about, which only enforces what I already suspect… that she too shares some form of grief. Heartbreak speaks to heartbreak or, in most cases, doesn’t speak when speaking isn’t required.
She frowns. “It’s an opera performance.”
“You don’t like opera?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“Maybe I should go and check it out anyway,” she says, chewing her fingernail. “I’m supposed to be trying new things on this cruise.”
“Why’s that?”
Riles freezes, much like she did last night. And even though I want to know what she’s not admitting, again… heartbreak speaks to heartbreak, so I pay her the same respect she did me by not prying.
“I’m sure you’ll try a lot of new things on the cruise, whether you watch the opera or not,” I offer, changing the subject for her.
Her shoulders relax, and she nods, more to herself than to me. “True.”
“Have you checked out the casino yet?”
“No.” She sets her phone down. “I’m not a gambler.”
“Probably a good thing. No doubt you’d bump into Ben.”
“I’d rather bump into a cactus.”
I chuckle. “Did you know he owns Mason’s?”
“The hardware chain?”
“Yes.”
Riles’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. “No, I didn’t. But Tittney and Spitney’s interest in him makes more sense to me now.”
“Are you money-shaming him?” I ask, deliberately baiting her as I pop another fry into my mouth.
“No! Well… okay, maybe I am.”
Shooting her a judgmental look, I continue goading, because it’s kinda fun. She’s overly defensive, and it intrigues me as to why she feels she has to justify herself so much.
“What’s that look for?” she asks.
I wipe my mouth and hands with my napkin, then toss it onto my plate. “I’m not giving you a look.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“Lies! You’re insinuating I’m judgmental when I shouldn’t be.”
“Are you?”
“No! Ben is just… rude, and not who girls like Tittney and Spitney normally pursue. There had to be more to it, and there is.”
“That’s judgmental.”
“How’s it judgmental?”
“Because you don’t know Ben, nor Brittany and Whitney.”
“Neither do you.”
“Correct.”
She frowns at me, pushes her drink aside, and leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, something she does when I’m grating her nerves.
Forcing down my pending grin, I try not to stare at her cleavage, which is now elevated in full sight.
“I’m not a nasty person, Riley, if that’s what you’re imply—”
“I’m not. I—”
“In fact, I think it’s wrong to use people for their money. But it’s also wrong to use people because you have money.”
“Correct.”
“And isn’t that what that particular ménage à trois—Ben’s words, not mine—are doing?”
“Correct.”
“So what’s your problem?”
“I never said I had one.”
She outright growls at me, like a cub, and I can’t help but laugh.
“You’re so infuriating. Has anyone ever told you that?”
I lie. “No.”
“I find that hard to believe.” She sips the last of her drink and gestures toward the horizon. “The sun is setting, so I suggest you stop goading me or you’ll miss it.”
Smirking, I nod my thanks, push my chair back, and then exit our small alcove.
We step up to the railing out on deck, the sun sinking behind the water, a glorious amber glow warming the sky.
I breathe in the unusual peace settling around and within me, finally realizing why Roni wanted me to temporarily hang up my tools and get away—for moments like this, not for sowing my wild oats.
“I haven’t seen a sunset like this in years,” Riles says as she rests her arms on the railing beside me.
“Me neither.”
The wind whips into an invisible lasso, lashing my face and T-shirt. Riles clasps her top, holding it firmly to stop it from flying up and over her head. Her brown hair frantically thrashes about her as loose strands escape her ponytail. Chaotic but beautiful.
“And to be frank,” she gripes, “it pisses me off.”
I go to ask her why, but she answers before I have the chance.
“I’ve missed out on so much because of my boss. Sunrises. Sunsets. Going out with my friends. Shows with my mom. Dates.”
Her reference to dating, or lack thereof, piques my curiosity. “Your boss interferes with your love life? Sounds like an HR issue to me.”
She scoffs. “What love life?”
Something inside me weirdly blooms to life, but I suppress it when Riles lets out an embarrassed laugh, her cheeks once again flushed.
“Not that I want a love life,” she blurts. “Not now, anyway. Too complicated. But that’s not the point, you know? Georgia steals a lot of my time. Time I need to stop willingly giving her. If I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that you can’t get time back. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.”
Leaning forward, I rest my arms on the railing as well and watch the swell come and go, much like time. “You can say that again.”
She draws in a deep breath, then lets it out. “And that is why I’m vowing to see every sunset every day of this cruise.”
I turn my head toward her and smirk.
“I’m serious. I’m not going to miss a single one. They’re too precious to miss.” She smirks back at me. “I’m a woman of my word. When I make a promise, I keep it. You watch me.”
Even though I don’t know Riles all that well, she appears to have a point to prove, if not to others then definitely to herself, so I don’t bait her this time, because I hope she succeeds. Determination is a powerful tool. When used for good things, it shouldn’t be messed with.
Silence settles over us until the sky is gray, nothing but the sound of lapping water and distant music from the poolside bar.
“I think I’ll get an ice cream,” she blurts. “Do you want one?”
Weird question, but okay. “Sure.”
“I love ice cream.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Georgia.”
Turning my back to the water, I rest my ass against the railing. “Your boss sounds like a piece of work.”
“She is.”
“So why do you continue to work for her?”
“Because she’s a means to an end. And because, despite her tyranny, she’s the best at what she does. I’ve learned a lot working for her.”
“Surely there are other publishers less witch-like that are great at what they do?”
“There are.”
“So why not pursue careers with them?”
She sighs. “Because Georgia thickens my skin, and that’s important for a young woman who wants to make her mark.
I respect her for that. She successfully worked her way up the corporate ladder in a once male-dominated field, and sadly, she wouldn’t have achieved what she has if she weren’t the evil queen. ”
I nod, also respecting her response.
“Do you like vanilla?”
“Huh?”
I’m about to say, “Yes, I like all sex, even the boring kind” when she says, “Vanilla ice cream.”
Shaking my head, because of course she meant ice cream, I stutter, “I-I guess. Yes.”
“I had some yesterday, and it was amazing.”
I try not to laugh. “That good, huh?”
“Yeees,” she practically moans. “It was as if my mouth made love to a delicious cloud.” She clasps my arm and tugs me with her. “Come on. You have to try it.”
I follow her eager steps until we’re standing outside the ice cream bar, where I order vanilla, even though I want butter pecan.
“Well?” Her eyebrows rise in anticipation as I spoon some into my mouth.
Holy shit!
I spoon some more, no words needed.
“Told you,” she singsongs. “It’s the stuff of miracles, or sorcery. It must be.”
“I think you’re right. This is the nicest vanilla ice cream I’ve ever had. Better than Mrs. Parberry’s.”
“Who’s Mrs. Parberry?”
“She owns an ice cream parlor where I live. And thanks to Poppy, I’ve had my fair share of the stuff.”
We continue strolling along the deck, adjacent to the railing, my cup almost empty, her cone dripping onto her fingers. She sucks them into her mouth, and I fight to keep my thoughts clean.
“So what’s your favorite piece of furniture you’ve built so far?” she asks.
“My sister’s rocking chair.”
“A rocking chair? How lovely.”
“I built it for her when she was pregnant.”
“Aww. That’s sweet.”
I shrug, feeling proud but strangely bashful. “I also built Poppy’s crib.”
“You’re a handy sibling to have for a mother-to-be.”
“I help with furniture; she helps with chemistry-based trivia.”
Riles nudges my shoulder with hers. “Speaking of trivia, I owe you an apology.”
I smirk. She does, but I was happy it let it slide.
“I should’ve listened to you when you said it wasn’t Phil Collins. I can’t believe I got that wrong.”
“I can’t believe you got that wrong as well.”
“Hey!”
“I’m kidding. It was an easy mistake.”
“More like a stupid mistake.”
“Ease up, Riles.” I stop by a trash can and toss my empty cup inside. “It’s just a silly trivia question.”
“Perhaps.” She pops the last of her cone into her mouth. “But you owe me an apology too.”
“Me?” I run my hand over my beard just in case it collected some ice cream. “What for?”
“You were wrong about the red M&M, and I was right.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. Is she serious?
When she doesn’t laugh and say she’s joking, I’m left with no other option than to say, “Sorry?”
“Apology accepted.” Riles smiles as if all is right in the world, but then scrubs her hands up and down her bare arms as she shivers.
I go to offer her my shirt, when she yawns.
“I think I might have an early night.”
Guilt twists my gut, and I pray to God I don’t snore again tonight like a hog freight train, or whatever it was she called me. “Yeah, no sweat. I won’t be too far behind you. I’ll give you some privacy to get settled first.”
“Thanks, Riley. I appreciate it.” Stepping backward, she lifts her hand in a subtle wave. “Goodnight.”
I wave back, but unlike when I did it to Brittany outside the elevator, this time feels perfectly normal. “Night.”