Chapter 7
“Dum dum dum daaaa!”
Kate’s terrible rendition of the famous opening notes of Beethoven’s Fifth was almost as funny as Atlas, who was on his back in a portable bassinet, waving his arms and legs. Yes, he did look like a four-month-old orchestra conductor, and he didn’t mind the bad melody.
It made the baby boy smile and every time he did, it was like the sun shone a little brighter.
Eli stretched in the chaise, enjoying the family moment immensely, especially since Emma had come out to the deck to join them.
She seemed a little more relaxed, stretched out on the sofa, laughing at the baby.
Not merely the polite exhale she’d been offering since she arrived, but a real laugh that made her sound seventeen and unguarded and exactly like her mother.
It had been a good day. Kate took over baby duty for a few hours, so Eli could go to a few meetings at Lakeside until noon. He came home to relieve Kate and spent the afternoon with her while Atlas napped.
Then the baby woke up and demanded an audience, which they happily became.
Jonah was due back from school any minute, though “any minute” had stretched into “significantly past any minute” and Eli was trying not to check the time again.
His phone buzzed. Not Jonah—Dusty.
Dusty: Hey, can you do me a favor? Check the bilge pump on the GTG? We’ve had a lot of rain, and I want to make sure she’s not taking on water. Tessa will kill me if that boat sinks. We’re up to our eyeballs finalizing the adoption process for Olive.
The Good Time Girl was Tessa’s pride and joy—a twenty-nine-foot Sea Ray cabin cruiser that she’d scored from a client and now shared with the whole family.
On it, he texted back and pushed up, reluctant to leave but always willing to help a friend.
“Do you mind if I run over to the marina?” he asked. “Dusty needs me to check on the boat.”
“Of course,” Kate assured him. “Atlas is fine.”
“I’ll just be gone fifteen minutes. Jonah will be back any minute. I hope.”
Emma sat up from the blanket. “Can I come?”
Before he responded, he glanced at Kate. Their eyes met, and he watched her process the same thing he was processing—this might be the opening they’d been waiting for. Kate gave him the smallest nod, so slight that Emma wouldn’t have caught it.
“Sure,” Eli said. “Let’s go.”
They walked across Gulf Shore Drive and down toward the harbor in the late-afternoon heat, which had eased just enough to be bearable. Emma wore shorts and a T-shirt and had her strawberry-blond hair pulled back.
She walked with no hurry, which was a change from the tight, self-contained way she’d been moving since she arrived. The conversation was easy, light, and comfortable, giving Eli hope that this might indeed be his chance to speak seriously.
He’d let it happen naturally, though.
Seamus Donahue was just outside the marina office, using a cutter on a large cardboard container, his sea-blue eyes crinkling when he greeted them with his ever-present smile.
“Eli Lawson,” he said in his warm Alabama drawl. “And who’s this young lady?”
“This is Emma. Kate Wylie’s daughter.”
“That makes you Artie’s granddaughter,” he said, making her whole face light up.
“I am,” she replied. “And don’t tell my brother, but I was totally his favorite.”
Seamus cracked up at that. “Sounds like something my friend would say. Taking a ride on Tessa’s boat this afternoon?”
“We’re just checking on the bilge pump after last night’s downpour,” Eli said.
“Good call,” Seamus said, looking toward the slip. “You know where she is. Slip fifteen. Go on down.”
They walked the dock, the boards warm under their feet, boats rocking gently. The harbor was calm, the water reflecting the blue sky.
The Good Time Girl sat in her slip looking clean and well-kept, white hull gleaming. Eli stepped aboard and offered Emma a hand. She took it and hopped down with the easy balance of a girl who’d spent a summer as a lifeguard.
“This is such a great boat,” Emma said, looking around the deck. “Is it true Aunt Tessa got it as payment from one of her event planning clients?”
“Hundred percent.”
She cracked up. “I love that woman.”
Eli opened the engine compartment hatch and crouched down to inspect it. Everything looked fine—the pump was cycling properly and the bilge was dry. He ran it manually for a minute just to be sure, checked the battery connections, and closed it up.
When he straightened, Emma was sitting at the helm, her hands resting lightly on the wheel. She wasn’t doing anything—just sitting there, looking out through the windshield at the harbor with an expression that was half daydream, half longing.
“You ever driven a boat?” he asked.
She looked at him quickly. “No. Been on small ones with my grandfather, but I haven’t driven one.”
“Want to take her out? Just around the harbor. No-wake zone, nice and slow.”
Her eyes went wide. “Seriously? I left my license at the house.”
“You don’t need it,” he assured her. “C’mon. Let’s take her for a spin.”
The transformation was immediate. She went from quiet to pure excitement in about two seconds. Instantly, Eli got a look at the real Emma—light, bright, and alive.
He handled the lines and drove them out of the slip, navigating the tight space with ease. Once they were clear, he waved Emma to the helm.
“Okay. Throttle’s here—push forward to go, pull back to slow down. Right now, we’re in idle. Give it a little push.”
She settled into the captain’s chair, and he took the one next to her, ready to jump in if there were any problems.
After a second of getting oriented, she pushed the throttle forward with caution, and the boat responded with a gentle surge. Emma grabbed the wheel tighter.
“That’s it. You’re driving.”
“Oh, wow!” She grinned as the breeze caught some tendrils of hair, whipping them over her lightly freckled features. “This is amazing! Way better than a car!”
“Keep it straight. Follow the channel markers—red on the right going out.”
She steered them through the harbor at a crawl, her eyes darting between the water ahead and the wheel in her hands.
Other boats rocked in their slips as they passed, and a fisherman on a nearby dock raised a hand.
Emma waved back with the enthusiasm of someone who had just been given the keys to the universe.
“Can I go a little faster?” she asked.
“A little. We’re still in the no-wake zone.”
She nudged the throttle and the bow lifted ever so slightly. A small squeal escaped her—joy, pure and uncomplicated—and Eli leaned back and let himself enjoy the ride.
He almost pulled out his phone to take a picture for Kate but didn’t want to make Emma self-conscious.
She looked so young. So unbroken. He longed for Kate to see her daughter like this, with the wind in her hair and the shame temporarily blown off her shoulders.
After a few minutes, he guided her off the throttle and let the boat drift toward the center of the harbor, where the water was calm and they were far enough from the docks to feel alone.
The engine idled to a low hum. The boat rocked gently.
To the west, the sky was starting to shift toward the early colors of sunset—pale gold bleeding into the blue.
“This is so peaceful,” Emma said, her hands still on the wheel, even though they weren’t really going anywhere.
“It is.” He sat down on the bench on the bow, facing her. “One of my favorite places to think.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then, without looking at him, she said, “So. I know you know…that I know you know.” She added a self-conscious grin. “We all know.”
He smiled. “Yeah. And nothing your mom told me changed how I think about you. Not one bit.”
Emma’s jaw tightened. “That’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s not nice. It’s true.”
She let go of the wheel and pulled her knees up, hugging them.
“I feel like…it’s all anyone’s going to see when they look at me.
Like I’ll always be the girl who sent that picture.
Which is ridiculous when you think about what they see on Instagram and such.
I mean, it wasn’t…you know. Full frontal or anything. ”
She flushed and he looked away, letting her embarrassment and blush fade.
“Can I tell you something?” he finally asked. “From the perspective of a man who’s been alive a lot longer than you?”
“You’re not that old.”
He laughed. “Please. Fifty-three. Ancient by your standards. But here’s what I know, Emma. You are not defined by the worst thing you’ve ever done. Nobody is. The people who try to reduce you to one mistake? They don’t get to decide who you are.”
“They kind of do, though. When you’re about to be a senior in high school and every single person has seen me make a fool of myself? Yeah. I mean, what did I expect that worm to do? Delete and ask for a date?” She snorted. “Trust me, he did neither.”
Worm was right. Serpent, more like.
“I hear you,” Eli said. “At seventeen, your world is your school and your friends and what people think of you. That’s enormous. I remember.”
“You remember being seventeen?”
“Vividly. I was an idiot at seventeen.” He thought about lovesick Eli pining after Tessa. Such an idiot. “Most of us were.”
A small smile flickered across her face, then faded. “My dad didn’t think I was just an idiot. He thought I was…” She trailed off.
“Your mom told me how he reacted.”
“He screamed at me like I was selling my body on OnlyFans or something.” Her voice cracked as if the accusation hurt all over again. “He didn’t care how I felt, just…” She looked away, out at the water. “Just what people would think.”
“I’m sorry that happened. You deserved better than that.”
“Do I?” she scoffed. “I mean, he wasn’t wrong. People sure did think…things.”
“First of all, they’ll forget. Second, you shouldn’t care what people think.”
“I do.” She squinted into the setting sun. “I care what you think.”