“Alex. I just think it’s a bit soon to know…”
He laughed. His ego clearly wasn’t wounded. He was so easygoing, so simple to be around. So sure about them. “Okay, okay. We need to get to know each other better, then. Less kissing, more talking, right? So, what do you want to know?”
“Maybe we can kiss and talk,” she said with a smile. “Where were you born?”
“Here.”
“Do your parents still live here?”
A shadow passed over his face.
“My parents died,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“No, no, it’s okay. It’s just… still hard to talk about. Maybe it always will be.”
He reached up and traced her jaw with his finger, then kissed it.
“What were they like?”
“They were great parents. Real adventurers. My dad had a little Cessna he kept up at our cabin, out near Muir Woods. We used to spend our summers there, go out there on weekends whenever we could.”
“What happened?” she whispered, her heart aching for him. Imagine having everything—a loving family, two parents—and losing that.
“Engine failure. They crashed. I wasn’t feeling well that day, and I was only eight, so I stayed home, with a babysitter. And I… survived.”
“Oh, Alex. I’m so sorry.”
“I still remember what it felt like, to fly with them.” His voice was faraway now. “How small the world looked to me, from way up there. How big it made me feel. How important, how special—to be up there, looking down. I’ve always wanted to do that again.”
“We’ll get a plane one day,” she said automatically, desperate to make him happy.
He was laughing again, the sadness lifted fast. “Oh, will we?” he said. “But we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, so how could we be falling in love, planning to buy small planes together…”
He didn’t finish. They were kissing again. Finally, she came up for air and nestled against his chest.
“What happened after that?” she asked.
“After my parents…?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it wasn’t great. I was mostly raised in foster homes. And now that I’m over eighteen, I’m on my own. I have a shitty apartment, as you know, which is too messy for you to see. But I have big plans for the future.”
“I’m really sorry about your parents,” she said.
“Don’t be. I’m fine. So, come on. Keep going. What else do you want to know?”
They sat up and faced each other. Favorite novel? His was The Great Gatsby. Hers was a tough choice between A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Beloved, or Play It As It Lays. “But I’m really into short stories right now,” she said, suddenly worried. “Do I have to choose between short stories and novels?”
He laughed. “Don’t panic. You don’t have to choose between anything with me.”
They both liked old movies. His favorite was The Asphalt Jungle. Hers was Topkapi but she had a soft spot for My Fair Lady. They both liked ice cream better than chips, dogs better than cats. “We should get a dog and a plane,” he said.
“Yes,” Lucky said. “A rescue, right?”
“Rescue plane?”
“Dog, you goof. A big one. The biggest rescue dog we can find.”
“A German shepherd.”
“A husky. We’d need a big yard for that, maybe a house in the country…”
The sun was starting to set, and Lucky smiled up at the dimming sky; she barely knew where the time had gone. Her dad had been asking her lately where she was always off to, and she had lied and said she had met a friend named Alexa and that they hung out on the beach together most days. Who is she, where does she come from, can you trust her, how do you know that, why don’t you bring her back here so I can meet her? Lucky was so sick of her dad’s paranoia. She wanted to keep her burgeoning relationship to herself—so she was dismayed when she looked away from the sky and saw Reyes walking down the boardwalk toward them.
“Oh, shit,” she said.
“Who’s that?”
“She works with my dad. She’s weird. Not my favorite person.”
Reyes had seen them now. And Lucky had the sense it wasn’t a good thing that she had—that letting anyone else into their insular little world was going to spell trouble for her and Alex.
* * *
The next evening Lucky returned to the boat after a day spent with Alex to find Priscilla on the deck, as she often was these days. Her father was inside, fixing a pitcher of the sweet tea Priscilla apparently enjoyed—so now, suddenly, they always had lemons and white sugar and tea bags on hand, when before they had never been the kind of people to have anything on hand. Lucky dumped her beach bag on the table and said, “I just got home. I’m not going out again. So please don’t ask me to leave so you can have your meeting.”
“No, no,” her father said. “No need. This is a social visit. Priscilla was hoping to chat with you, actually. Get to know you a little more.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Good bosses take the time to get to know their employees.”
“I’m not her employee.”
“Lucky. Don’t let me down. Come outside, have some iced tea, be polite.”
There was something in his tone that told her he was intimidated by Priscilla, maybe even scared. She took the tray of iced tea and mismatched glasses from her father and said, “Let me serve.”
“Ah, the famous Alaina,” Priscilla said when Lucky emerged.
“It’s Lucky, actually.”
“Right. Alaina is just what it says on the IDs I got you. For your school stuff. All that is going well?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be going to SFU in the fall.”