Chapter 23
Captain Kendra’s Log: Don’t you love it when someone makes it make sense?
Rowan didn’t say much on the drive back to the marina. Because it was still raining, he insisted I stay inside Demeter House until he brought the golf cart around. Thankfully, Mom and Dad always had extra umbrellas for guests, so my dress didn’t get rained on.
Lightning speared across the sky as Rowan parked my cart in the usual spot. He turned it off and pulled the key out of the ignition. But still, he said nothing.
I scooted sideways in the seat to look at him. Another bolt of lightning lit up his handsome face, and once again, I was struck by that jaw that I knew would cut glass but also be soft if I touched him.
“Rowan?”
“Hmm? Oh. What?” He turned to me.
“Are you doing alright?” I felt a niggling of worry prick my spine.
“I’m fine. I’m trying to figure out how to get you to your boat without getting us both drenched,” he said.
I chuckled at the absurdity. “Well, that’s silly.” I retrieved the second golf umbrella from the backseat of the cart. “Didn’t you see me lugging around these huge umbrellas?”
Rowan glanced at the brightly-colored striped umbrellas and let out a laugh.
“Guess I didn’t. Shall we?” I pointed my finger at him as I handed him the second umbrella.
“Don’t go trying to be a gentleman and open my door.
It’s pouring and every person for themselves. I’ll race you to the houseboat!”
I didn’t wait for his reply. With a swift motion, I pushed open the creaking cart door, unfurling the large, colorful umbrella above me as I leaped into the cool evening air, the door slamming shut with a satisfying thud behind me.
A wave of exhilaration coursed through me as I raced toward the gangplank of the houseboat, laughter spilling from my lips, echoing into the darkness around me.
The warmth of the day was long gone. The pounding rain and the crispness of fall had settled in, sending shivers down my spine.
By the time I reached the weathered door of the houseboat, my arms were covered in a flurry of goosebumps.
I turned, expecting to see Rowan behind me, as he always was, but the dock was empty.
Curiosity piqued, I leaned to the side, searching the dimly lit sidewalk for any sign of him.
That’s when my gaze caught a dark figure crumpled on the cold concrete.
“Rowan!” I dropped my umbrella, ran down the gangplank, crossed the dock, and raced to the sidewalk where Rowan rocked back and forth, his umbrella long gone. “Rowan? What happened?” I knelt beside him and grabbed his face. “Talk to me.”
“My leg seized up,” Rowan said with a wry twist of his lips. “I need to get something from the pirate ship. Will you help me?”
“Of course! Do you need me to help you stand up?” I extended my hand toward him.
He shook his head and unsteadily rose to his feet.
Worrying thoughts raced through my mind about what might have caused his fall.
I scanned the ground for uneven concrete or fallen branches but found nothing.
My eyes caught sight of his umbrella lying on the ground nearby, so I quickly picked it up and held it aloft over his head while he gathered his composure.
We carefully walked along the dock to the pirate ship and headed directly to his office. He pulled out towels from a cabinet and handed one to me. “This won’t get you fully dry, but it might make you more comfortable. Let me see if I have some dry clothes.” He began searching through his wardrobe.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be able to get some dry clothes when we go back to my houseboat,” I reassured him.
He paused with his back toward me. Water cascaded down his hair, soaking his formerly pristine suit, and formed puddles on the floor. His shoulders sagged as he said, “We’re not returning to your houseboat. You’re going back. I’m staying here.”
“I’m confused. What are you talking about? We have things to discuss. You promised me a story, and as I recall, you told me I’d get that story when you brought me home,” I insisted. “I’m not home yet. So, get your dry clothes, and let’s get a move on. What else do you need?”
“Nothing, because I’m not going.” He spun around to face me and collapsed to the floor.
“Rowan!” I skidded across the floor and dropped to my knees. “What is going on with you tonight? Are you drunk? Do you need me to call an ambulance? Is this—” I paused as I glimpsed something wrong with his left leg. A shiny piece of metal peeked out from beneath his pant hem.
He hastily reached for the fabric, but I stayed his hand.
“Let me see,” I whispered and reached for the hem of his pants. I moved slowly, expecting him to slap my hands away at any moment, but he didn’t.
I gingerly pulled the fabric of his pants up to reveal the metal of a prosthetic leg. I looked up at him. “How far?”
He swallowed. “It’s a below-the-knee amputation.”
“Was this the tumor?”
“Yes.”
I nodded. Things were clicking into place for me. The way he fell in the marina shower. The stilted gait of his walk. Why he always wore the same shoes.
“Okay. Do you want help getting up?” I looked into his eyes.
“No. I can do it.” He grabbed the closet door handle and pulled himself up, shaking his leg to get his pants back in position. “Now you know. It’s okay. You can go.”
Disbelief swept through me. “Are you kidding right now?”
He shook his head.
A memory came back to me, and I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. “Holy shirtballs! I asked if you were pulling my leg earlier!” I covered my eyes with my hands. “I feel like a dumbass!”
“Goldilocks,” Rowan said before pulling my hands from my face. “You’re not a dumbass. You didn’t know. I didn’t say anything about this.”
I considered what he said, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest. “You know, you’re right. You didn’t say anything. So that’s on you. Now, get your stuff. We’re going to my houseboat.”
I grabbed the towel as I left his office, its rough texture contrasting sharply with the delicate fabric of my ruined silk dress.
I attempted to dry some of the damage, but the vibrant color seemed destined to be murky.
I looked down at the skirt, and my throat went dry.
It was probably a lost cause, like so many things in my life.
My heart ached as I faced the reality of it; the dress was one more thing in my life that I fucked up.
My eyeballs began to prickle, and I took two deep breaths through my nose to stop from crying, trying to maintain some semblance of control.
Now was not the time to lose my shit on the pirate ship.
Rowan had a big story to tell me, and I needed to listen wholeheartedly.
He deserved that, especially after being my anchor amid the chaos of this week.
As I caught another glimpse of the ruined dress, the sight twisted my stomach in knots.
Each tear that fell mingled with the rain damage.
I stuffed a corner of the towel into my mouth, pressing it against my lips to muffle the cries threatening to escape.
I leaned against the hallway wall, feeling the cold seep into my skin.
I felt him step into the hallway.
“Kendra,” Rowan whispered. “I understand. This is a lot to take in. You can go. I won’t be mad.”
“Mad?” I turned to face him.
“If you leave. I understand. You didn’t sign up for this.”
I snort-laughed. “Well, no shit, Boss. I didn’t sign up for any of this, if you remember. You’re the one who made me your fake fiancée. But as for your leg, I wasn’t crying about that. I’m crying because I ruined the dress you gave me.”
A puzzled look crossed his face. “The dress I gave you? I didn’t give you a dress.”
I waved down my front. “Yes, you did. This dress. It came as a surprise gift today.”
Rowan tilted his head back and huffed a laugh. “And you thought I gave it to you.”
I shrugged. “You do like to send surprises my way.”
“I thought you were thanking me for the boat,” Rowan admitted.
“Why would I be thanking you for the boat? Didn’t that come from Seeger?”
He glanced at the floor. “Yes. Well, I did expedite it for you.”
“Right. Okay. Well, that wasn’t the gift I was thanking you for.”
“Can we stop talking about gifts and dresses and address the one-legged elephant in the room?” He asked.
I slapped his arm and shook out my hand. “You’d think I’d learn. Boulders. But seriously, knock that off.”
“I realize I don’t have a leg to stand on,” he began.
“Dude.”
He grinned at me. “I find that it helps to address it with humor. Helps to lower the anxiety around it.”
“You’re an ass.”
“That I am.”
“Yes. I want to address the one-legged asshole in the room, but I’m about to freeze to death, and things are chafing in weird ways,” I said, shaking out my legs. “Get your stuff for a sleepover and come with me.”
I turned on my heels and sashayed down the hallway to the exit. I did my best to sashay, but it was hard in a wet second skin.
Good thing I’d be taking it all off soon.