Chapter 24
lovelillibet When people say the age of adventure is over, it tells me they’ve forgotten how to take risks. You can turn your whole existence on its head anytime. For example, the other day I traded my swishy layers for curtain bangs and now it feels like I’m vacationing in my own life.
Love, Lillibet
Image: Gauzy white drapes swirl behind a wrought-iron railing.
#renewyou #hairtodaygonetomorrow #chargeintochange
Jefferson was right behind her, ready to go on goat patrol. Except then Libby climbed out of the hot tub, all endless glistening legs and a scrap of barely-there fabric inches from his face, and his brain went offline, frozen on that accidental close-up. He considered bashing his head on the fake rock border to restart his executive functioning.
This situation was rapidly slipping out of his control, and it had nothing to do with runaway goats.
What am I doing? On this island, with this woman, in this hot tub?
A better question was why he hadn’t stopped to ask himself any of those things until now.
The answer seemed to be that cool, calm, and collected Jefferson had left the building. New Jefferson was in charge, and this version of him was driven by wants instead of plans. Leaving the luau, putting his hands all over her, thinking about doing more … that was base instinct behind the wheel. In his normal life, Jefferson would have seen the obstacles ahead and pumped the brakes.
They lived thousands of miles apart. She was about to start a new job that could send her life in a completely different direction. He barely knew her.
And Libby had a husband. Even if she hadn’t married for love. Was there such a thing as being a little bit married? Jefferson would have called it a load of malarkey if he wasn’t so desperate to believe she was free.
None of that slowed him down. A switch had been flipped, and suddenly Jefferson was a heat-seeking missile. She offered, and he leaped at the chance, following Libby like she had him on a leash. It had never been like this before, an all-consuming wave of feeling sweeping doubt and hesitation out of its path.
He needed to talk to her, even though there was no guarantee she was on the same page. What did she want? What was she willing to risk? If there was any chance of this becoming something real, he wasn’t willing to leave it to guesswork. Cards on the table—but not until they found the damn goats.
“At least you can see which way they went.” Libby nodded at a bare patch in the otherwise lush hedge, right at goat height. She tossed Jefferson a towel, hanging the one she’d used on a hook outside the shower. They shrugged on their clothes, yanking them into place over still-damp skin, and set off in pursuit.
“Are there any predators we should be worried about?” he asked, as they followed the trail of missing leaves and broken twigs.
“Some of the neighbors might come after them if they mess up their landscaping.”
“What if they try to swim for freedom?”
She paused to look back at him. “You think they might drown?”
“I know goats are strong swimmers. I was thinking sharks.”
Her face fell.
“I’m sure they’re too smart for that,” Jefferson assured her.
“They ate one of the cushions on the patio furniture,” she reminded him.
Among other things. Jefferson’s fingers twitched at the memory of touching the skin underneath the strap of her bikini. “It’s not like you hear about a lot of goats getting eaten by sharks. As part of the food chain.”
A security light flashed on ahead. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess they went that way,” Jefferson said.
“In your expert opinion. As a wildlife tracker.”
“If I’m reading the signs right. Are you friendly with your neighbors?” he asked as they moved toward the puddle of light.
“Why?” The question seemed to make her nervous. Maybe there’d been a spat about parking, or someone’s obnoxious wind chimes.
“If they recognize you, they won’t think we’re trying to break in.”
“They’re probably asleep.” She moved farther into the shadows.
“Eureka,” Jefferson said a few steps later, pointing at the grass.
Libby squinted at the pile of pellets. “It’s like bread crumbs. Only poop.”
They followed the trail of droppings and gnawed-off branches to a narrow path through the brush, the whoosh of the surf increasing in volume with every step. Jefferson stopped to inhale, tasting salt. The ocean was vast and dark apart from a wedge of reflected moonlight. The entire scene felt impossible: impossibly beautiful, impossible that he was here, with Libby. He had the urge to reach over and take her hand, fast-forwarding to a time when that was part of their relationship.
When they had a relationship, period.
As if he’d willed it, Jefferson felt the brush of her fingers, wrapping around his.
Look, she mouthed, when she had his attention. The goat was asleep on the sand, head bent back to use its body as a pillow.
“She looks so peaceful,” Libby whispered.
“A jailbreak takes it out of you.”
“Seems like a shame to disturb her.”
Given the choice of going back to Libby’s house or lingering on the beach, Jefferson knew which he preferred. He considered the trailing end of rope. “Want to see if we can tie her to that tree?”
When Libby nodded, he took it as evidence of a question asked and answered: Want to stay here with me a little longer?
Yes.
“I’ll text Hildy. Tell her I went to bed early.”
“And I have a headache,” Libby suggested, “which is why you were nice enough to take me home.”
Jefferson had a vision of taking her back to his place, where he could be even nicer. Preferably for more than one night. But even if she were willing to leave with him, she couldn’t, could she? A pretend marriage was still a commitment.
Text sent, he silenced his phone before tiptoeing toward the goat.
“Does bending make you quieter?” Libby imitated his half crouch.
He put a finger to his lips as she crab-walked to his side. Jefferson fished the rope out of the sand with exaggerated care, like it was a high-stakes game of pick-up sticks, and passed it to Libby.
When she had a solid grip, he started feeding out rope, edging toward the nearest palm tree. There was plenty of slack, since the goat had been dragging as much yardage as the average rock climber. He hitched the rope to the trunk, tight enough to hold while still allowing access to the leafy green plants beyond the sand.
At Jefferson’s thumbs-up, Libby let go of the rope and backed away. He joined her at a safe distance, where they could keep an eye on the goat without waking her.
“You probably earned a new badge tonight. Level-Two Knot Master.” She fiddled with the strap of her bathing suit.
“Too tight?”
“I might just— Give me a sec.” Turning her back on him, she reached under her sundress. After some shimmying and squirming, she stuck her hand down the front and pulled out the bikini top, yanking it over her head before facing him with a look that said, Tada!
“That’s better,” she sighed.
“Quite a trick.”
“I know. And I didn’t even need a knife.” She blew on her fingernails. “Just call me Houdini.”
He would have been happy to keep standing there grinning at her, but it was time to do the hard thing. “Listen, Houdini.”
Libby tensed, like a rabbit poised for flight. So much for easing into a difficult conversation.
“That wasn’t a move, by the way. Taking off my top. I could do much better than that. Not that I would, if you’re not into it. Since it seems like the mood might have changed.” She took a careful step back, giving him space he didn’t want.
“It’s not that.” He gripped the back of his neck. “I wanted to talk to you. Seems like I might have jumped the gun. Before.”
“And now you regret it ever happened, because you realize you made a terrible mistake, and you’d rather forget the whole thing?” Her tone was friendly and understanding. No hard feelings. But she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Libby.” Jefferson waited for her to look up. “I don’t regret anything.” He kept his eyes on her face, letting her see that he meant every word. “I won’t forget anything about tonight. Or these last few days.”
She swayed toward him. “Really?”
He grasped her by the shoulders, quickly realizing physical contact wasn’t a good idea. Opening his hands, he pulled away before he could slide them down her arms and onto her hips.
“I don’t think we should take it any further.” It killed him to see her face fall, so he added a hurried, “Not yet, anyway.”
“Oh.” She rocked back on her heels, worrying her bottom lip. “Why?”
Because I’m an idiot. But not enough of one to dump the whole thing on her before he’d thought it through himself. Now that we’ve kissed, how would you like to turn your life upside to be with me, somewhere, somehow?
“Sorry,” she said, when he didn’t answer right away. “I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
He took hold of her hand. “I don’t want to do this the wrong way. While you’re married to someone else.”
“But—”
“I know it’s not a real relationship, but I don’t want to pretend with you, and it feels like there’s something in the way. A barrier. Maybe I’m imagining it?” He looked at her hopefully, waiting for a denial.
She kept her head down, making a noise that sounded like mmmm-hmmmnnn. That seemed to be her full statement on the subject.
“It hasn’t worked out too well for me in the past, letting the physical relationship come first. You end up sweeping stuff under the rug. And the thing of it is…” Jefferson hesitated, gripping the edge of the cliff with his toes. “It feels like this could be a good thing. And I don’t want to screw up something important.”
He waited for her to offer a response, preferably along the lines of, It’s not just you, I feel it, too. “Does that make any sense at all?” Jefferson asked, when he couldn’t take it any longer.
“I can’t believe you just … said all that. Out loud. With words.”
“Too much?”
“Oh no. Keep it coming.”
Some of the tightness constricting his lungs eased. “I want to know you, Libby. And I want you to know me. Before we cross that line—”
“In the sand.”
“Or wherever. Maybe I am an old man at heart. This is probably not the sexiest conversation you’ve ever had.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it is, actually.” She broke off, laughing under her breath. “You talked to me about your feelings. Voluntarily. You thought about emotional stuff. Like an adult. You thought about me. I’m basically a puddle right now. You could scoop me out of the sand. Like … a giant litter box.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “Speaking of sexy.”
He wanted to kiss her again. Not because she’d compared herself to cat pee, though that was part of it. The odd mixed in with the funny and vulnerable.
“This is where we met,” he said, glancing at the silver-crested waves.
She nodded.
“But we’re not in the same place.”
“No.”
“I don’t mean geographically.” Jefferson was miles ahead of where he’d been that day, although part of him had already been falling for her—a gradual lean that picked up speed the closer he got.
Her grin was a lasso around his heart. “I figured. And also it’s night.” She pushed her hair back from her face, like she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. “Do you want to stay and see the sunrise?”
“Yes.” He knelt to smooth the sand before spreading out the towel he still carried. “Come here.”
She settled herself beside him, hip to hip, her head resting on his shoulder.
If he had a seashell, he’d make another wish: Let this be the first of many sunrises we watch together.