CHAPTER 7
Katrina
Before Katrina knew it, they were on Ocean Drive.
The road curved along the coastline, and the familiar dark wood and stone building of Katsura came into view.
Paper lanterns swayed in the sea breeze.
Marina pulled into a parking spot and they walked through the garden, pausing at the small stone waterfall that trickled into a koi pond.
Katrina dipped her fingers in the water. The fish scattered.
Inside, the hostess smiled and led them to their usual table by the window. Katrina slid into the booth first, leaving Marina the outside seat.
They ordered without looking at the menu. Tuna tataki, yellowtail jalape?o, salmon aburi. Their usual.
Marina excused herself to the restroom, and Katrina was alone with the silence of the restaurant and her thoughts.
She picked up her phone, thumb hovering over Ryan’s number. He was just a guy. A student. A guy who would be gone in a few days. She put the phone down. Desperate wasn’t a good look on anyone, and Katrina Lane wasn't about to start looking desperate now.
She stared out the window. The street was quiet. A couple walked by hand in hand. A man in a light blue button-down and jeans stepped onto the sidewalk from the parking lot.
Katrina blinked. No. Fucking. Way.
The man turned toward the restaurant entrance.
He had Ryan’s height, Ryan’s walk, the same slightly too-straight posture.
She blinked again. It was like her brain had conjured him from thin air, the way it sometimes did when she’d gone too long without a date.
She pressed her palms against her temples. Get a grip. You’re losing it.
When she looked up, he was inside. Following the hostess. Walking toward the counter.
Holy shit. It was him.
Katrina forgot every single warning she’d given herself in the past hour. She waved, half-standing in the booth. “Ryan!”
He turned. His face shifted through surprise, recognition, and something warmer. He walked over.
“Hey,” he said. “Small world.”
“Right? My sister’s here too, she just went to—” Katrina glanced toward the restrooms. “Oh, there she is.”
Marina emerged from the hallway in her teal dress. She saw Ryan. Stopped. For a second, something flashed across her face—maybe surprise—before she smoothed it into a polite smile.
Katrina frowned. That wasn’t surprise. At least it wasn’t just surprise. That was something else.
“Marina, this is Ryan. He’s the student I was telling you about. The one who—”
“We’ve met,” Marina said.
Katrina’s mouth stayed open.
“At the bar,” Marina continued. Her voice was even. “The other night. Ryan was at Harbor Beacon, and we got to know each other.”
“You what?” Katrina asked. Why hadn’t she mentioned it?
Marina sat down. She didn’t look at Ryan. “It wasn’t a big deal. Just a conversation.”
Katrina looked between them. Ryan’s eyes were on Marina, and Marina was studying the edge of the table like it contained the secrets of the universe.
“Join us,” Katrina said. It came out before she could think about it.
Ryan hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“No, please.” Katrina slid over, making room. “It’s fate or something. The universe wants us to eat sushi together.”
“Kat, give the guy some space,” her sister said. “He might prefer being alone.”
Katrina looked at him expectantly. “Do you?”
Ryan shrugged, looking undecided for a second, and then he said, “I would love to sit with you. That is, if it’s okay with you, Mara.”
Mara. Katrina wanted to laugh. That was the name on Marina's name tag at the Beacon. Katrina had never understood why she didn't just use Marina.
Katrina looked at her sister, who smiled politely. “Yes. It’s okay. Please, have a seat.” Her tone was cordial but reserved. “And call me Marina, please. Mara is my name at the bar.”
Ryan sat down, and the booth felt suddenly smaller.
Katrina launched into menu recommendations. She pointed at the laminated sheet between them, her finger tracing the items she loved. “Get the yellowtail. And the crispy rice. Trust me, I’ve been coming here since they opened.” She was talking too fast. She knew she was talking too fast.
Ryan nodded along, asking questions about the different fish. Marina was quiet. She picked at her napkin.
When Ryan excused himself to wash his hands, Katrina leaned across the table.
“Why didn’t you tell me you met him?”
Marina shrugged. Her shoulders did that thing where they barely moved, like the question was too heavy to lift. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. He’s just another customer.”
“Just another customer whom you got to know pretty well?”
“Kat.”
“Fine.” Katrina sat back. The silence between them had weight.
Marina stood. “I need to use the restroom again. Be right back.”
She walked away, her teal dress swaying. Katrina watched her go. Something was off. Marina didn’t use the bathroom twice in fifteen minutes unless something was wrong.
She considered checking on Marina when she returned. “That was quick,” she said.
“Yeah,” Marina replied.
Katrina frowned. She wanted to ask Marina whether she was hiding something from her, but Ryan returned before she had the chance.
Ryan looked as though someone had just told him a secret he didn't quite know what to do with. “Everything okay?”
“Yep. All good.” Katrina smiled. “So, what’d you do this afternoon?”
Ryan brightened. “I went to Northpoint. Got a board. And a wetsuit.”
“No shit. Really?”
“Really. The guy there helped me pick something decent. Not too expensive, but not a total piece of crap either.”
Katrina felt a rush of pride. She’d done that. She’d convinced this landlocked Texan that surfing was worth investing in. “That’s awesome. You’re hooked.”
“I think I am.”
They talked about his lesson tomorrow. Katrina was booked solid—two beginners in the morning, a group lesson in the early afternoon. Ryan said he’d practice on his own.
An idea hit her. “You know what? Marina could coach you. She’s the real surfer in the family.” She nudged her sister. “Won the regional championship three years running in college.”
Ryan’s eyebrows went up. “Seriously?”
Marina shook her head. “I’m not a good teacher. Katrina’s the instructor.”
“Come on. One session. You’re better than me and you know it.”
“I have to walk Skylla. And I have a shift tomorrow night.”
Katrina sighed. “Fine. I’ll meet you in the afternoon if the weather holds,” she said to Ryan.
They finished eating. The conversation shifted to work. Ryan explained his job in terms Katrina only half-understood—something about making sure websites ran properly, something called backend.
“Do you know how to build websites?” she asked.
“Sure,” Ryan said. “What kind of website?”
“For my surf school. Right now it’s mostly word of mouth and Craigslist. I didn’t want to invest too much at first, but...” She shrugged. “Might be time.”
“I could help with that.”
Marina’s head came up. “Ryan’s on vacation.”
“I don’t mind,” he said. “Really.”
Katrina grinned. “There you go. Problem solved. We can talk about it tomorrow before your lesson.”
They paid and said goodbye in the parking lot. Ryan walked to his car—a RAV4—and Marina was already buckling herself into the driver’s seat, engine running.
Katrina slid into the passenger side. The car was warm. Marina’s hands were tight on the steering wheel.
Neither of them spoke as Marina pulled out of the parking lot. The paper lanterns of Katsura grew smaller in the rearview mirror, and Katrina watched them until they disappeared.
The drive home was quiet. Marina focused on the road, both hands on the wheel. The headlights cut through the coastal dark, illuminating the scrubby bushes that lined Ocean Drive. Katrina watched the shadows.
Her mind kept replaying the dinner. Ryan’s eyes.
That was the thing that stuck. How they’d followed Marina around the room like she was the only person there.
How he’d leaned forward when she spoke, even when she was saying nothing interesting.
How his voice had gotten softer, somehow, when he addressed her.
And Marina. Marina who never looked at him. Who studied her plate, the window, the ceiling—anything but Ryan Carter. Except for those few times when their eyes did meet, and Marina’s cheeks had gone pink under the restaurant lights.
Katrina had seen that blush before. Not often. But she’d seen it.
Two nights ago. Marina had come home from work in an unusually good mood. She'd had a smile on her face, the kind Katrina rarely saw after a shift at the Beacon.
Curious, Katrina had asked whether she'd met any interesting customers.
Marina had paused.
Her eyes had done that thing they always did when she was deciding how much of the truth to tell. They'd flickered away for just a moment before she shook her head.
“No, not really. Same old.”
At the time, Katrina had let it go.
Now she wondered if Ryan had been on Marina’s mind.
Katrina’s stomach dropped. The pieces clicked together with a sound she could almost hear, like a lock turning.
Marina had feelings for him. Real ones. Not the polite interest she showed the men who hit on her at the bar, not the wary distance she kept from everyone.
Something actual. Something that made her hum.
And she hadn’t said a word about it. Not one word.
Because Katrina had spent the entire afternoon yesterday talking about how cute Ryan was. How she couldn’t stop herself from offering him a free lesson.
Her sister had listened. Had nodded. Had laughed in all the right places. And had kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to disappoint Katrina.
Katrina closed her eyes. Leaned her head against the window. The glass was cool against her temple.
But she was disappointed. Of course she was disappointed. Ryan was hot. Ryan was a great guy. Ryan watched YouTube before their lesson, and he’d bought a fucking surfboard because of her. But more than that—he’d made Marina smile. The real one. The one that didn’t come out for just anyone.
Why did it have to be the same guy? The universe had a shit sense of humor.
She kept her eyes closed. Pretended to sleep. The car hummed beneath her, and she let herself feel the disappointment fully, the way she tried not to feel most things. It sat in her chest like something heavy and warm.
After ten minutes, she made her decision.
It wasn’t complicated. Ryan was into Marina.
Anyone with eyes could see it. And Marina—wary, careful Marina—was into him too.
The tension between them had been palpable all night, a current running under the table that Katrina had felt even through the wood.
They belonged together. More than Katrina and Ryan ever would. Marina liked dependable men. She liked quiet confidence and stability. Ryan was all of those things, wrapped in a package that also happened to look good in a wetsuit.
Katrina opened her eyes. The darkness outside had deepened. They were on the stretch of road that ran parallel to the beach, and she could hear the ocean, even through the closed windows.
“Rina,” she said.
Marina turned her head slightly. “Yeah?”
“What do you think of Ryan?”
She could feel her sisters’ hands tightening on the wheel. “I think he’s... fine,” she said after a pause.
“Boyfriend material fine?”
Marina chuckled. It sounded forced. “I don’t know. I haven’t considered it.”
Katrina watched her sister’s profile. The streetlights slid across her face in intervals, illuminating the set of her jaw, the tightness around her eyes.
“Could you do me a favor?” Katrina said. “Could you teach him to surf? Please? Do it for me.”
The silence that followed was longer. Marina’s fingers tapped once against the steering wheel.
“Maybe,” she said finally. “It depends if I can get up early enough. I have to walk Skylla, and—”
“Thank you, Rina.” Katrina cut her off. “I owe you one.”
Marina opened her mouth, then closed it. The road curved, and the headlights swept across the empty beach. For a moment, the sand gleamed white under the beams, and then it was dark again.