“Yes,” I said quietly. “But I haven’t always been great at applying them to my own life.”
Hugo shrugged. “Is anybody good at doing that, though? Most of us don’t ever learn our real lessons in life until it’s too late, right? I guess the important thing is that you’re trying your best.”
Sadness lapped at my throat. I wished I could live up to Hugo’s benevolent appraisal, but Sebastian’s brutal evaluation earlier that day had been much more accurate.
Observing the world, rather than engaging with it, meant I didn’t have to invest emotionally. If I never got close to anyone, they couldn’t leave me. Or it wouldn’t hurt if they did. Better to be alone by choice—that was one thing I always had control over.
But now I realized I wasn’t fooling anyone. The truth was, I wasn’t trying my best—I was only living a shell of the life I knew was possible.
And I regretted it.
43
The small squall was a full-fledged gale by the time we stepped outside the Curious Whaler after dinner. Each gust of wind brought fat raindrops that defied gravity by falling sideways.
Sebastian’s phone chirped in the pocket of his parka and he dug to retrieve it.
“It’s my sister,” he said, frowning at the screen. “I’d better take this.”
Hugo and I walked a few steps away to give Sebastian privacy, sheltering from the rain under an awning.
“Thanks so much for dinner.” Words were tumbling out of my mouth as I basked in the relaxed haze of the bourbon. “That was so kind of you to pay for us.”
Though he’d discreetly tucked it under the ketchup bottle, I’d also noticed Hugo’s generous tip for Roma.
“Of course,” Hugo said. “It’s the least I could do since you guys drove all the way up here to find me—well, my grandfather.”
“So, this was his favorite place?” Since Hugo was much taller than me, I had to look up when speaking to him. The way he bowed his head slightly, almost deferential, felt comfortably familiar.
“Sure was. He must’ve eaten thousands of meals here over the years. They even started serving bouillabaisse because of him—it was the thing he missed most about France. And the pastis, of course.”
“Sounds like he was beloved.”
Hugo grinned. “Completely. Years ago, he basically knew everyone in town, and they all loved being around him, hearing his old sailor stories from the Mediterranean. But by the end, most of his friends had moved into nursing homes or passed away. It was pretty sad, really.”
“It’s the curse of longevity,” I said. For once in my life, I didn’t want the conversation to end. “And he lived on that houseboat?”
Hugo’s curls bounced in time with his nod. “Before my grandmother died, it was kind of like his retreat when he wanted to escape into his own world. But after she was gone, he sold their old saltbox house and moved to the boat on the lake.”
“You’d think he’d want to keep it in the harbor, being a sailor and all.” I caught the subtle scent of cedar, and maybe a hint of cypress, rising from beneath Hugo’s open jacket. I found myself leaning closer.
“I guess he preferred being surrounded by all those trees,” he said. “And I can see why—it’s so peaceful. I love sitting in the morning just watching nature do its thing. There’s a family of ruby-throated hummingbirds that lives in the trees right next to my boat. Ever seen one of those?”
“Their wings beat up to eighty times a second, right?” Thanks, Grandpa.
“Right! Not many people know that.”
My confidence buoyed further. “I bet Gus loves being able to run around there too.”
“You remembered my dog’s name—I’m impressed.” Hugo leaned his head to the side appreciatively. “You’re a dog lover then?”
“I have a bulldog named George. But he does not enjoy running around outdoors.”
Hugo laughed. “Typical city dog.”
“Exactly.”
Sebastian was frowning in our direction, still arguing with his sister.
“So, where are you guys staying tonight?” Hugo asked, trying not to eavesdrop.
“I booked us a couple of rooms at a motel just outside of Lincolnville.” I’d felt safer being in control of the sleeping arrangements.
“Oh,” Hugo said, looking over at Sebastian. “I figured you guys were … together.”
“Definitely not.” I giggled. “I’m just doing my job, you know, helping his grandmother.”
“Got it.” Hugo slid his hands in his pockets. “It’s really good of you to go to all this trouble to help her find some resolution before she dies. I just wish we could’ve somehow brought her and my grandfather together.”
I nodded. “Sadly it happens more often than you’d think—people don’t realize how they feel about someone or something until their lives are almost over.” I pulled my coat tighter against the wind.
“A good lesson for us all, huh?” Hugo positioned himself sideways so that his back was blocking me from the gale. “So, what would you regret, Clover?”
For the first time in months, it felt impossible to lie. The words had already formed on my tongue. “Well…”
I felt a firm tap on my shoulder.
“Ready to go?” Sebastian’s voice was impatient.
I looked apologetically at Hugo, since Sebastian didn’t seem to care that he’d interrupted our conversation. “Yes, I guess so. Is everything okay with your sister?”
“Yeah, she’s just being bossy as usual, trying to take control of things with Grandma even though she’s hardly visited her this whole time.” He scuffed his shoe against the gravel. “Anyway, we should get to the motel, since we have to get up early tomorrow.”
Unfortunately Sebastian didn’t realize how bossy he could be too.
“Sure—want me to drive?” I’d probably had one bourbon too many to be driving on roads I didn’t know in the dark. But from the way Sebastian was swaying, he was even more inebriated, which would only be worsened by his agitated state.
Sebastian frowned unsteadily at me. “Fine.” He plonked the keys into my palm and strode toward the car.
I pressed the remote to unlock the vehicle just before he reached it so that he didn’t have another reason to be irritated.
“He’s probably just stressed about his grandma,” Hugo said gently.
His kindness lessened the sting a little. “Yes, probably.” Though our argument earlier in the day might have also had something to do with it.
“You know, the roads around here can get pretty hairy with no streetlights and all those potholes—especially after you’ve had a few drinks.” Hugo half smiled as he zipped up his jacket. “How about you guys follow me to the motel? I’m pretty sure I know which one you’re talking about, since we don’t have many. The one with the blue doors on the way to Camden, right?”
“Yes,” I said, recalling the photos on the website. Under other circumstances, it would be a lovely place for a romantic getaway. “That’d be great, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” Hugo said, pulling out his own keys. “Some high school friends of mine actually own it—it’s a cute little place.”
Sebastian and I drove in silence as I concentrated on Hugo’s taillights burning against the darkness. The motel was only eight minutes away, but it was down an embankment and the roadside was pitch-black. My dulled senses would’ve easily missed it if Hugo hadn’t slowed to a stop and flashed his hazard lights.
“Great to meet you guys,” he called through the open car window. “Safe travels back to Claudia.”
The crunch of tires on gravel became the whir of rubber on blacktop as he made a U-turn on the narrow two-lane and waved goodbye.
While Sebastian continued texting impetuously with his sister, I watched Hugo’s taillights dissolve into the moonlit fog that floated above the road like cotton candy.
Puzzled by the weight I felt just below my collar bones, I put my hand to my chest.
I’d only known Hugo for a few hours, but somehow I was sad to see him go.
44