chapter thirteen
RILES
The thing about dodging metaphorical bullets is that those bullets tend to continue flying around, locked on their target, until they eventually hit.
I knew Riley was entitled to the passcode for the safe. Of course he was. But had I given it to him, he would’ve found Mom, in her urn, and I wasn’t ready to explain why she was in there and why I had her with me.
It was a bullet I was happy to dodge, for now.
I also couldn’t risk him having access to the safe and accidentally leaving it open.
Because of him, my bathing suit was somewhere in the Labrador Sea, so trusting he would keep my most precious possession secure wasn’t something I felt confident trying.
Trust cracks your armor, and I’ve been forging mine for as long as I can remember.
After eating breakfast in the buffet restaurant while waiting for our tender tickets to be called, we scanned our sailing passes on our way out of the ship, then took the short trip by ferry to Qaqortoq, a quaint, picturesque village on the southern tip of Greenland.
“Oh wow!” I say, enthralled with the steep rolling hills dotted with brightly colored houses. “They look like little Legos. How pretty!”
Riley leaps off our boat onto the pier and offers me his hand. “Watch your step.”
I stop marveling at the fairy-tale scenery, place my hand in his, and focus on my footing. Before the cruise ship dropped anchor, we passed a couple of tiny icebergs, so I don’t fancy taking an unintentional dip in the icy water.
“Thank you,” I say, gripping his fingers tightly.
“No sweat.”
His hand is warm and soft but with rough edges only a hardworking hand possesses, and I like the feel of it in mine, foreign but protective. So much so that I’m tempted to link my fingers with his and skip along the pier, our arms swinging.
What has gotten in me?
I release his hand and awkwardly reposition my beanie, needing to busy my stupid fingers.
Perhaps I’m just elated I’m in Greenland, that I’ve seen icebergs, and that I’ll be flying over a glacier by day’s end.
I’ve never seen anything like Qaqortoq, and being here, so far away from the confinement of my office, feels euphoric and surreal. Hand-in-hand-skipping surreal.
“I can’t believe I’m here,” I say, excitement bubbling through my veins as we walk the short distance to the shore.
“Me neither.”
I draw in a deep breath, the sea air clean and fresh. “It’s so different from NYC.”
Riley scoffs. “You can say that again.”
Brushing off his disdain for my home city, I’m too overjoyed to pick a fight. “Do you know they eat seal and whale in Greenland? For real! It’s like their steak and chicken.”
“No, I didn’t.” He slides his hands into his pockets, probably to prevent me from latching onto them again. “But it makes sense, I guess.”
“Would you eat it?”
“Probably.”
I cringe. “I don’t think I could.”
“Why not?”
“Because seals and whales are cute.”
He chuckles. “And cows and chickens aren’t?”
“Not really. Plus, seals are lovers. They’re loyal; they bond for life. I’d hate to think I’m eating someone’s spouse of fifty years.”
Riley stops walking, nose bunched. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t think that’s true.”
“It is!”
He shakes his head.
“I swear it is. They’re romantic and devoted and—”
“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands. “We won’t eat the loved-up seals.”
“Good.”
We keep walking, and I try to recall where I gained such seal information—possibly the movie Happy Feet. But then maybe I’m getting them confused with penguins. Still, seals are cute and cuddly, and I don’t want to eat them.
“So where’d you disappear to last night?” Riley asks. “When I got back from the medical center, I couldn’t find you.”
Guilt tightens my chest. “Was Brittany okay?”
He rolls his eyes. “She was fine.”
The pit of my stomach twists, because I don’t want him to think I’m violent. Sure, I’m competitive by nature, and I like to stand my ground and fight for what I believe, but deliberately causing someone injury, whether I like them or not, well… that isn’t me. I’m a lover, not a fighter.
Okay, maybe not a lover.
Twisting my fingers together, I murmur, “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
He side-eyes me. “I know.”
“You do?”
“Of course.”
“Oh.” I stop twisting.
“So what did you do last night?”
Avoided you like the plague and spent time with my mother, because I felt awful.
“Not much,” I say flippantly. “I ate some sushi, checked out the art gallery, and then I sat at a karaoke bar until my ears could no longer stand it.”
“Did you join in?”
“With the karaoke? Nooo. I can’t sing to save my life.”
“Isn’t that the point of karaoke?”
“I suppose, but I much prefer to watch other people make fools of themselves.”
Riley gives me his judgy-judgmental look.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t even try to bait me on this.”
His eyes crinkle mischievously. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. Your face speaks for you.”
He chuckles, and warmth blankets my defense. He has a great chuckle, and it’s hard not to be infected by it.
Unable to hide my smile, I focus on the rainbow of houses again. “This place is so vibrant and charming, like the illustrations in a children’s book.”
“If Poppy were here, no doubt she’d say it reminds her of sprinkles on a cake.”
“Yes!” I laugh. “It does kind of look like a cupcake.”
Riley laughs too, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You miss her, don’t you?” I ask.
“I do. She makes me want to pull my hair out every damn day, but she’s also the sweetest little thing. Roni’s done a great job raising her on her own.”
“Where’s Poppy’s father?”
“Killed in action.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m so sorry.”
His nod is solemn, but then he points to where the ship’s photographers are goading passengers to take a picture in front of a novelty Qaqortok sign. “Want a photo?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
We position ourselves on either side of the sign, and just as the photographer takes the shot, Riley swats at his face.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Bug.”
“Oh.”
The photographer snaps more shots and then hangs his camera around his neck and gestures that we reduce the space between us. “Closer, yes?”
We inch nearer.
“Closer.”
Wondering whether I should say, “We’re not a couple,” I don’t get the chance when Riley drapes his arm over my shoulders and hugs me to his side. Shocked, I beam at him as the photographer takes the shot.
“Perfetto!” He gives us a chef’s kiss gesture, then ushers the next lot of passengers to take our place.
“So, what do you want to see first?” Riley asks.
“I don’t know! I was just planning to wander around until my helicopter flight.”
A bug flies past my face, almost settling on the tip of my nose, so I swat at it.
“Looks like there’s a market over there.” Riley points ahead of us, then swats at his face too. “Want to check it out?”
“Sure.”
Following him to a line of umbrella-covered tables with local foods and handmade trinkets, we both continue to repel bugs with our swishing hands when a friendly local says something that sounds like “Hi.”
I respond with “Hello,” hoping she understands my greeting.
“Did. You. Make. These?” Riley asks as if talking to a toddler.
She grins from ear to ear and nods.
He picks up a pink-beaded bracelet. “You’re. Very. Clever.”
I bite my lip, suppressing my pending giggle.
“How. Much. For. Three?” he asks, holding up three fingers as he reaches into his pocket.
She points to a sign that reads DKK 70.
“How much is that?” Riley murmurs to me.
This time, I do giggle. “I have no idea.”
Shrugging, he hands over two purple Danish banknotes. The woman goes to give him some coins in change, but he refuses. Once again, warmth waves through my body. He’s wholesome… or stupid, because he could’ve just paid a hundred dollars for all I know.
“Pick one,” he says, turning to face me, his palm open to showcase the bracelets.
I blink and touch my chest. “Me?”
“Yes. But not the pink one. That’s for Poppy.”
Hesitating, because I’m sure Poppy would love all three, I keep my hand pressed to my body. “Are you sure?”
“Just pick a damn bracelet, Riles.”
I bite my thumbnail and choose the blue one, and he gently stretches the bracelet and loops it onto my wrist.
“Thank you,” I say, adjusting it and running my fingers over the beads. “That’s very sweet of you.”
“No sweat.”
Another damn wave of warmth ripples through my body, and if I don’t look away from his crinkling eyes, there’s a good chance I’ll combust. So I rotate my arm, admiring my gift. Georgia certainly wouldn’t approve if I wore it to work, and that act of potential rebellion strangely thrills me.
“Where to now?” I ask, still happily eyeing my new pretty accessory.
“I read online there’s some stone carvings, so maybe we could find tho—” Riley chokes, spits, and then gags.
I jump back. “What’s wrong?”
“Bug,” he croaks, clearing his throat.
“Did you eat it?”
“Yep.” Cough. “I think so.”
“Nooo!” I cover my mouth with my hand.
He spits again, then swipes at his face like a madman. “What the fuck? They’re attacking me.”
Cradling my waist, I double over as he turns in circles, ducking and weaving.
“Leave me alone.” Swat. Swipe. Spit. “Jesus!”
Laughing uncontrollably, I snort in a breath, choke, and immediately snort it out again.
He stares at me.
I stare back.
“You too?”
I gag, not once but twice, then quickly turn my back on him and blow out all the snot before covering my nose and mouth with my hand and turning back around, horrified. “It went up my nose.”
He bursts into laughter. “At least we can say we tried a Greenlandic delicacy.”
“I’d rather eat seal,” I mumble.
Continuing to swat the pesky fly-like bugs, we hurry along gravel roads and paths, past colorful building after colorful building, eventually finding a grocery store, where we buy some repellent.
Then we hike up a hill to the highest viewpoint we can find and take in the harbor, our grand ship idle and somewhat incongruous amongst the arctic landscape.