Chapter 3
“Stay.”
I step out from my one-room apartment onto the landing, pulling my hoodie over my head to shield myself a bit from the rain. It’s dark, but Nate's and Harper’s porch light is on. Maybe it’s a really shitty bulb or maybe I should be honest with myself about needing glasses because I swear I’m watching Harper pull the cord of the vacuum cleaner free and plug it into the wall with Tides next to her.
“Good boy.” She holds out her hand to Tides. “Stay.”
But the minute Harper turns on the vacuum, Tides runs into the backyard.
Harper curses, putting her hands on her legging-covered hips. “Great. Now we’ll have to smell your wet shed hair,” she laments.
I whistle and he comes running to me for safe harbor, happy to be away from the vacuum even if that means being in the rain. “Were you about to vacuum a dog ? ”
Harper pulls her long, blonde hair free from the clip that holds it on top her head. “Some of us don’t care for dog hair.”
Scratching Tides’s ears, I try to calm him down. As a police K9, this dog gets all the special treatment including regular scrub downs. “You’re crazy. He’s better groomed than me.”
When I look up Harper scoffs. “Is that really so hard? When was the last time you cut your hair? Or shaved?”
I bring my hand up and rub what I might classify as the perfect balance of soft and scratchy stubble. “Haven’t had any complaints so far.” I wink and she immediately looks away.
“Where’s Nate?”
Harper doesn’t have to answer because Nate comes out of the backdoor, walking quickly around the house to the trash can. He holds a dying bouquet of pink tulips, like the ones the windowsill above the kitchen sink is never without.
It’s Monday, which only means one thing. Tomorrow is Tulip Tuesday.
Tides quickly escapes from my side and runs over to him sniffing what Nate carries. I hate to break it to the dog that it’s only flowers, like the ones that always sit on the window above the kitchen sink, and not a kilo of marijuana.
He tosses the bouquet into the trash. “Out with the old and in with the new.”
“Riley’s next, right?” Harper asks.
I stick my tongue out because if she can be immature, so can I.
Nate motions at his cruiser. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Harper’s stare bores into me as I make my way onto the driveway and into Nate’s police-branded SUV. There’s enough in here to distract me—the radio, the expansive dashboard and computer. But still, I watch the two of them on the porch.
I don’t have to hear Harper to know she’s telling Nate she’s annoyed. She makes it too easy with the way she folds her arms across her chest, tipping her head at the car I sit in every few words with a cold stare and scowl.
But I win. Nate comes with me.
“How pissed is she?” I ask when Nate climbs into the driver’s seat. When he turns on the engine, the dashboard glows, resembling something you might find in an arcade. I’m eager to reach out and touch something and terrified at the same time.
Nate clips his seatbelt. “What was that?”
“Your boss . She pissed you’re taking a night off?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
Nate turns on the wipers and looks in his mirror before backing out of the driveway.
“She didn’t want you going out tonight.”
Nate nods and motions out the window. “Yeah. Because it’s raining. But she’s totally exhausted. She’ll be out like a light—”
“After she’s done vacuuming Tides.”
Nate laughs.
“What’s she so tired from? Doesn’t she teach Yoga?”
“And run a business. And take care of our kid. And me.” Nate presses his lips together, stifling a laugh. “And you. Heard you left your laundry in the dryer again .”
I wave Nate off as he slows, pulling into a parking lot. “This place is open until ten.”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “For all the husbands needing to buy flowers because they stayed out late having a drink with their friends.”
Nate shakes his head. “They’re not apology flowers.”
He knows I know this. I wait impatiently as he dashes into the florist and runs out two minutes later, handing me a bouquet.
“They’re beautiful. You shouldn’t have.”
Nate tsks as he puts his seatbelt back on and prepares to drive us out of the parking lot. “Shut it.”
Instead of continuing straight Nate stops at a traffic light, turning on his signal.
“You want to take the bridge? It isn’t raining hard enough for mudslides.” The bridge will take us twice as long to get down to the Boulevard.
“I don’t like risking it. ”
I frown as I lean my head against the glass of the window, hearing the ocean raging outside. “Storm came in too quick and too late,” I groan. “It’s going to rage all night and tomorrow will be calm as a clam. Boring day at the office.”
“Yeah, well, how long are you thinking to keep The Surf Shack your office now that you’re a licensed attorney?”
I ignore the question. “Do you ever run a stop sign just because you can?”
Nate slowly accelerates when the road is clear. “Not in this weather.”
“Good cop,” I say. “I guess it would be more entertaining if you were a dirty cop.” The idea is so ridiculous I laugh.
“We’d make a good team if you put that law degree to use.”
I throw my head against the seat. “I thought we’re supposed to be celebrating tonight, not scheming.”
“Scheming?”
“Yes,” I say. “Scheming. Can we hold off on the what now, Riley kind of talk for a bit?”
Nate looks at me. “How long is a bit?”
Forever , I want to say, because that sounds like a plan.
“I didn’t take the Bar to be a lawyer. I already have a job,” I remind him.
Nate snorts. “You might be the only surfer I know who took the Bar just because.”
“What can I say? I like being an anomaly.”
“Caroline must be excited.”
I shrug. “What’s it matter anyway? I’d sooner die than ever get into corporate law. I already spend enough time with sharks.”
“There’s more to law than corporate law. You might find you can do something meaningful and still make a good living.”
“I do make a good living,” I remind him. “I just choose to spend my money differently than others.”
Nate presses his lips together and looks over at me. This is the silent way of calling me out on my own shit .
I shrug one shoulder. “Okay, maybe not rent. I did give you some checks, though.”
“Yeah, well, after the first one bounced, I never bothered trying to cash the rest.” He sighs. “And for the record, I don’t really care if you live above our garage until the end of time—“
“But Harper does.”
Nate stops at a light and turns on his signal while we wait. The rain pounds the damn car with a damn vengeance. It reminds me of the way Harper knocks.
“It’s not that she cares. It’s that…” Nate shakes his head.
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
Slowly Nate drives forward when the light changes. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah,” I agree before joking, “only if you’re moving.”
I don’t expect Nate to stay silent, but he does. So much for joking around.
“Well.” I lift my wrist to look at my invisible watch. “I guess we’re due for this conversation.”
Once a year, Harper starts dropping hints about a possible move back to the East Coast. It never amounts to anything, but it always puts me on edge, like she’s forcing Nate to entertain the thought and he kind of does. But I guess that’s what happens when you get married. And even though I know Nate, Lucas, and Harper won’t be changing time zones anytime soon, I like the thought as much as the whitewash of rain disrupting my views. Both things make me uneasy.
“North Carolina is just something we’re thinking about. We both lived there. It’s a nice place to raise a family. And if we do,” Nate says, “you’re more than welcome to come with.”
The one thing more ridiculous than Nate leaving California willingly forever is Harper being okay with me tagging along. “Let me know if your wife agrees with that.”
“I wish the two of you would just get over your shit. ”
“What shit? I don’t have a problem with Harper. She has the problem with me. Many of them, actually.” I pause. “I’m sure she has a list and they’re alphabetized and color coordinated with tabs and sticky notes.”
Nate shakes his head.
“I’d hate her if she made you move to North Carolina though.”
“She isn’t making me do anything.”
“Uh-huh. You wear the pants well, Nate. I forgot.”
When the light changes, Nate grips the steering wheel tightly as he merges onto the ramp for the bridge. “Don’t be an asshole, Riley.”
“I’m just saying,” I hold my hands out as if I’m making peace. “What’s with the North Carolina stuff?”
“That’s where we met.”
I tilt my head. “So?” We skid a bit after going on the ramp and I reach out to the dashboard to steady myself. “Can’t be all that great. You guys came here. You came home.”
“The Marines brought me home,” he reminds me. “We just happened to stay.”
“Who the hell leaves this,” I pause motioning outside my window where on a normal night you would see the lights from houses and street posts glistening on the smooth waters of Seal’s Bay we’re about to drive over. But tonight, the visibility is lost to the pounding rain.
“North Carolina is on the ocean.”
I scoff. “The Atlantic Ocean. I’ve never met an east coaster who could surf for shit. Living by the Pacific, it’s the stairway to heaven. If you’re going to get Lucas up on a board, you have to start him in the Pacific.”
I turn back to face Nate to see that he agrees with me, but my head doesn’t make it all the way around to him. Instead, it’s caught in something that does break through the whitewash around us—the bright headlights of an oncoming car.