Chapter 35
KOLTON
Shay and I walk along the beach-side boardwalk in Toronto’s Beaches district, enjoying a reprieve from work on this sunny Sunday afternoon. Jackson is between us, gripping our hands, skipping along as he prattles on about his favorite words.
He stops suddenly and hops in place. “Can we look for rocks, Daddy? I need rocks for my rock collection. Or maybe they have hidden gems in the sand?”
Jackson looks up at me, still hopping like a jumping bean. His face is covered with the chocolate ice cream he recently finished, and his big grin has his glasses tilting.
“Sure, bud. But first…” Kneeling, I pull a pack of wipes out of my Dad Backpack and clean his face, chuckling as he squirms and scrunches his nose.
“How about Shay and I sit in the sand, and every time you find a good rock, or a gem, you leave it with us while you search for others. We’ll guard the collection. ”
He jumps with an excited, “Yes!” and runs onto the beach.
Shay shakes her head, laughing. “His excitement is contagious.”
Dad Backpack reorganized, I inhale the fresh air and stare at her gorgeous profile. “So is your happiness.”
She forces her face into a frown. “Who says I’m happy?”
“Just a hunch.” We sit on the beach where we can watch Jackson and stretch out our legs. “I’m happy, too,” I add.
I’m not sure why I point out the obvious.
My wooing of Shay was far from subtle, and I finally have her where I want her, minus the future we agreed not to discuss.
But my heart palpitations return, making me both clammy and sweaty at once.
It’s the same overwhelming sensation I’ve had a handful of times, including in the sauna last week, right before I almost told Shay I loved her.
I have no idea why my body is acting so damn haywire.
“What fashion fad do you hate the most?” she suddenly asks.
I focus on her random question, not the hot flush running through me.
Ever since our first dinner date, Shay asks questions out of nowhere, like she can’t learn enough about me.
There’s no weird awkwardness between us anymore.
Whether we’re alone, with Jackson, working, or exploring each other’s bodies, we talk easily. Or we don’t talk.
Getting to know this woman is one of my new favorite hobbies.
“Bellbottoms,” I say, breathing easier.
“But bellbottoms are fun, if you don’t have big hips,” she adds, glancing down at her body.
“I love your hips, Shay. Even more than in Aspen. I like having something to grip.” I wink at her. “As for bellbottoms, if you want to wear them, I won’t give you shade, but I’m not a fan of the silhouette.”
She tips her head back, soaking up the sun. “Spoken like a true fashion icon.”
I chuckle. “You know I’m more about numbers and spreadsheets than style, but I have my opinions.”
“Oh, I know about your opinions. So, so many opinions,” she says, upping her dramatics.
I laugh again and nudge her with my elbow. “Pot meet kettle.”
Jackson runs over and drops a small reddish rock in front of us. “It’s a precious gem,” he says, breathing hard. “A ruby, but one from Mars. It fell from the sky. Gotta find more.”
He peels off, full of adventure and excitement.
“I wish I had his imagination,” Shay says, grinning. She watches him inspect each and every beach rock he finds. “What age do you think we lose that? You know, the ability to stay occupied for hours with nothing but our minds to invent stories?”
I lean into her ear. “Pretty sure I’m still capable of that. You have no idea the stories I invented after Aspen.”
She turns her face toward mine and licks her lips. “Did they star a certain scrap of red lace you couldn’t part with, dirty boy?”
“So fucking dirty for you.” I nip her ear, pleased with how her cheeks pink, then I lean back on my hands. “When you were a kid, what seemed like the coolest part of being an adult to you?”
“Easy,” she says. “No curfew. Late nights. You?”
“Driving, for sure. Like a real, live video game.”
“Minus the killing and blowing up of things,” she teases.
“No, no. I thought that was part of driving.”
She snorts. “Of course you did.”
“Beach house,” I say, fanning my hand toward the expansive sand dotted with lounging people, dogs, and frisbee players. “If you built a beach house here, how would you decorate it?”
Ever since Shay told me she plays games in her head, redecorating spaces, I can’t help but prod her. I love seeing inside her clever mind.
She tilts her head. “Natural materials, for sure. And I love whitewashed wooden walls—classic and clean—but I’d paint the ceiling a bold color to pop. Pink or something fun. Add a patterned tile floor to bring in that color, too.”
I close my eyes and nod. “I can picture that.”
Seagulls squawk. The water laps gently at the shore.
Jackson dumps another few rocks by our feet, and Shay scoots closer to my side.
She leans into me, rests her head on my shoulder, and that hot-flush-clammy-heart-racing thing returns.
Like I’m sitting in my sauna with my hands dunked in an ice bath.
I frown and kiss the top of her head, breathe through the uncomfortable sensations.
We talk less. Intermittent questions asked and answered as I try to absorb the moment and just be for a change. Ignore these odd spells. I mean, this is the type of ease I’ve been searching for: companionship and mind-blowing chemistry.
With Shay, it’s as though we’ve known each other for years, not months. With Shay, I can see a future filled with love and laughter and family time.
Maybe that’s the source of my discomfort. Anxiety that we won’t find a way to make this work long term. Not that I haven’t been working on a solution. As planned, I’ve researched every design firm in the Vancouver area, listing them by size, prestige, and style.
Once I’ve spoken to them all, narrowed the field down to the best of the best, I’ll lay out my findings in a neat package. Let Shay know exactly what she stands to gain by moving, personally and professionally. Convince her to stay and squash these weird episodes.
She pokes my ribs and gives me an odd look.
I blink, realizing I missed whatever she said. “Sorry. What was that?”
“It’s getting late. Did you want to get going?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll grab Jackson.”
I move to get up, but she places her hand on my arm. “This was nice, being out today.”
“So nice,” I agree, but that clamminess is still there, edging out my happiness. I run my nose through her hair, breathe in her scent, and swallow my unease. “Today was perfect,” I say with more certainty.