Chapter 14
Conversation flowed smoothly, like the yacht around the island. They spent hours talking, laughing and telling each other stories. Thea pointed out landmarks, places that had names and places she’d named herself.
“That’s Smuggler’s Ravine,” she said, pointing to the small stream of water flowing into the ocean. A small bridge for bicyclists and walkers crossed over the rocky waterway. “In the winter, it freezes into its profile. It’s gorgeous.”
Everything fascinated Thea, and it made him fall deeper for the woman he swore he’d been looking for his whole life.
She spoke about the way the water broke in certain areas by the shore like she was looking at a Rembrandt.
She discussed how the rocks had smoothed over time by the way the tide came in.
She pointed out the grass sands where pipe clovers nest, and when seals sunbathe on the beach.
She told stories of her childhood, where she’d first learned to swim, then surf, then really swim.
“I swam to Long Island once from the harbor,” she said, as they passed the island’s lighthouse. “The ferry captain called marine control.”
But they didn’t always talk about the island or nature. They talked about their families and their childhood. He told her about when his dad had left. She told him how her mother had accidentally gotten pregnant with her.
“My sister was always the favorite,” she said, shrugging. “She could do nothing wrong.”
“The sister at trivia night?” he asked, trying to remember how he’d behaved that night with Ainsley at the bar.
He couldn’t remember half of the night. He hoped this sister hadn’t told Thea about how inebriated he had been.
He could usually handle his liquor, but guilt and regret had had him drinking more with Ainsley.
He’d known then he wasn’t into her, but he still strung her along.
“I’ve been known for being a jerk in relationships.” Something deep inside him told him he needed to come clean. “I’ve been known for being distant, cold, and noncommittal.”
“You sound like a dreamboat.” She smiled at him, clearly teasing, but she had no idea.
“I thought having a girlfriend gave me status, and I don’t even know what else.
” He couldn’t stop his confession. Something about her made him want to be absolutely real and honest, because he wanted to have an open heart if she could accept the man he had been and the man he wanted to become. “But now…”
He looked out at the sunset. The night couldn’t have gone more perfect. A perfect destination, a perfect dinner, with perfect weather, and now a perfect pink sky that reflected off the water.
Waves softly lapped against the boat as they stared out. They shifted together, her leaning into him, his arms around her, her head resting on his chest, and his chin lightly on her head.
She looked up at the sky where the clouds feathered out all the way to the sea, saying into his ear, “Pink skies at night, sailor’s delight.”
He had heard the famous rhyme often while living in the city on the water. He loved the pink skies reflecting off the windows of skyscrapers in the city.
“You are my pink skies.” He placed his hand on her chin. The pink sky reflected in her eyes.
“I keep pinching myself.” She held his hand with hers. “Not because of this big famous football player, but because this really great guy likes me.”
He pulled her closer. “He really likes you.”
“Oh, he does?” She laughed, and the sweet sound echoed out across the water.
She settled back into his embrace, and they watched the sun fall behind the island’s lighthouse.
“That used to be known as Mooncusser’s Hideout.” She pointed to what looked like a cave. “Now high school kids party in there.”
“I’m starting to see a theme here,” he said, loving how she just kept telling him all these wonderful things.
“My favorite story is about the ghost bride of Half Moon Cove,” she said, pointing to a dark granite boulder that hung out in the water.
“Her fiancé went out on his boat to go fishing and never returned. Legend says she roams the beach when the moon is full, looking for her fiancé in her wedding dress.”
“That would be terrifying,” he said, thinking how close his rental was to this beach.
She snuggled farther into him as a cool breeze blew across them.
“This has been so nice,” she said as they pulled back into the boat’s slip.
“It doesn’t have to be over yet,” he said. “Would you like to come back to the house and have dessert while looking out at the moonlight?”
She looked down at her phone. “Umm…”
“I can take you back, too.” He squeezed her, completely understanding.
“No, I’d love to come. It’s just that my niece is staying with me, and going to a man’s house on a first date isn’t exactly setting a good example.” She looked at the time again. It was only just a few minutes past nine o’ clock.
“What if you invite your niece?” He didn’t care who she brought, just as long as the time with her wasn’t over. “And if it makes it better, Cece will be there.”
She laughed but pulled out her phone. “Would your cousin happen to still be in town?”
He nodded. “Along with my aunts and uncles. It’s always sort of a family affair.”
Throughout his childhood, up until college, he’d lived within a few blocks of every extended member of his mother’s family.
He’d also lived in his grandparents’ triple-decker apartment until he was twelve, only to move to the third floor.
“Please, come, but only if you want the night to continue.” He hoped she’d agree.
She looked up at him and said into the phone, “Hey, Arielle, it’s me. I’m going to be later than expected. Give me a call if you need anything.”
He reached out his hand, and hers slipped perfectly inside. He lifted it up and kissed the back. He leaned into the mouth of the phone and said, “She won’t stay out too late.”
She shook her head. “I love you. Talk to you soon.”
She ended her call and followed Ryan off the back of the boat. They walked down the dock, the wood boards echoing over the waves.
“I always loved that house, even when I was little,” she said, pointing to the older place whose front yard faced the Atlantic Ocean.
“The family all left except Mrs. Rosedale. It’s one of the original houses on the island.
” She stared longingly at the white house with a lobster weathervane swinging in the wind.
“Most people love the wraparound porch and the Victorian gingerbread trim, but I loved the gardens.”
Ryan looked out at the house. He didn’t see any gardens but an overgrown plot of grass with a lot of weeds.
The picket fence that had once been white barely had enough paints chips left to show its original color.
He couldn’t even guess what it may have been over the pale gray.
It would have been literally the last house on the island he’d call his favorite, but the wishful look in her eyes as she admired the small home made him pause and reconsider.
“Right after Easter, Mrs. Rosedale would pay my sister and me to take care of her garden to earn some money.” She pulled his hand as she walked up the driveway.
“Should we be walking on her property?” he asked, looking around. Daniel held up his hands in question by the car, but Ryan ignored him.
“She died years ago, and now the house sits empty,” she explained. “I don’t think any of her family has been here in years.”
She continued to walk up the seashell path to the front porch. He didn’t notice any security cameras or signs warning against trespassing, but he didn’t know how he would explain himself if the police were called.
“I come here from time to time to check on things,” she said, reassuring him. His heart slowed down and he let out a laugh. “Mrs. Rosedale’s daughter asked me to make sure things aren’t falling apart and that no one’s living on the premises, but?—”
She stopped as they reached the bottom of the stairs of the porch. She pulled him down to sit next to her.
“But what?” he asked, now curious about what made her stop speaking, as they sat side by side.
“But I stopped gardening for the family, and now it looks like this.” She sighed with sadness.
“Mrs. Rosedale met her husband in France during World War II. She had this gift of turning even the rockiest, saltiest, unyielding landscape into a gorgeous botanical wonderland. It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen as a little girl, but then her husband died, and she got sick. Her children fought over everything, even before she’d died. Now it just sits empty.”
“It’s nice of you to watch over things,” he said.
“I tried to keep it the way it had been when Mrs. Rosedale was around, but it’s acres of gardens.
” The look on her face was the same look his teammates made when they reminisced about a Super Bowl they’d lost his last year on the team.
“And my sister stopped helping me, so… now it looks like this.” Lines drew deep on her forehead.
“Hey, you aren’t responsible for other people’s property,” he said. “I’m sure Mrs. Rosedale would understand.”
She smiled and leaned into his shoulder. “You know, you’re easy to talk to.”
That made him grin. “Tell that to my last girlfriend.”
“Miss Wisconsin?” She lifted her eyebrows like she had an opinion but didn’t want to share.
“What?” he asked.
“She just seemed like the opposite of you,” she said, shrugging. “I guess Johnny is certainly the opposite of me.”
He honestly couldn’t believe a woman as beautiful and as smart as her would even bother with a guy like her ex. “I’m so embarrassed that I let a guy like that drag me along for so long.”
He could feel her pulling away. “I always remind myself that it’s better to share yourself with someone than to hold back in case he turns out to be a Johnny,” he said, hoping she understood that he didn’t care about her history with the guy.
All he cared about was this moment and the next and the next moment after that and if he’d be able to spend them with her.