He grins, flashing black holes where teeth used to be. “I’ve heard that a time ’er two, yeah. Don’t change the fact that you know I’m right.”
“I’m workin’ on it. VA wants to shove pills at me, but I can’t function on ’em, can’t think straight. They want me to talk to someone, but that means going back there in my head, and that shit feels too real.”
“I gotcha’, you don’t have to explain it to me. It’s a bitch. Difference ’tween us is I’m old and past my glory years, you starin’ ’em right in the eye. Still hope for you. But you can’t keep pickin’ fights with anyone who reminds you of the enemy. You want a chance with a good woman, you’re gonna have to try harder.”
“Nah . . . she leaves in a couple weeks. We’re just having fun.”
“Mmmm.” He stares out across the docks.
I shoot him a side glance, not at all comfortable with his silence. “What?”
“Hm? Nothing. Sounds like you got it all figured out, that’s all.”
“Yeah.” I swig from my beer. “I do.”
I can hold it together for a couple weeks to spend time with the woman whose photo I’ve been staring at since I moved here. Then I’ll go back to being miserable, fucked up, and alone.
SAWYER
After fishing all day with Aden I hit a U-Haul for boxes and the local market for some food to stock the fridge. It wasn’t until I got into the shower that my thoughts hit rewind on my day.
What was supposed to be a quick trip to the marina for an apology ended up a day at sea that included sushi and kissing. Lots of kissing.
The memory of Aden’s powerful lips moving against mine force me to cold water to temper my sunburned skin as well as my lust-burned thoughts.
What did he mean when he said he’d want to kiss me tomorrow? The idea of seeing him again, that look in his eyes seconds before he kissed me has me bracing my weight against the tile wall to stay upright. Is it possible to fall for someone so quickly? I dated Mark for six months and never felt so . . . unstable at the thought of his mouth on mine.
Climbing out of the shower, I dry off and cover my tender skin with a healthy amount of lotion. It’s finally dark out and my eyes are dry and heavy, but I can’t go to sleep until I talk to my sister.
I dial her number while crawling beneath the covers. My cell phone practically tingles against my palm knowing Aden’s number sits there just waiting to be used. Even pretending to be my fearless twin isn’t enough to get me to push the right buttons. Calling him now would seem too eager. I’m afraid of what I’d say if he answered. Afraid he wouldn’t answer. Terrified he came to his senses in the few hours of separation and reject me.
“Hey, I’m busy vaccinating orphans in India, so leave a message.”
Before I open my lips to do just that a call beeps through on my other line. Celia’s face and big smile take up the screen.
“I was just leaving you a message.”
“I’m moving a little slower and my phone only gives me two rings before the fucking voicemail picks up. But enough of that, tell me how you’re loving being me.”
She sounds tired. I check the clock that’s shaped like a pineapple. It’s just after eight-thirty. “Did I wake you?”
“Sawyer, we can talk about my sleep patterns when you get home. Tell me about your day.”
I curl up onto my side and can’t fight the smile that’s splitting my face. “Oh my God, Cece, you’ll never believe what I did.”
She laughs soft and low and I can tell she’s probably curled up in the same position. “What’s his name?”
“Aden Colt.”
“Whoa . . . that is definitely a hot guy name.”
I go on to explain everything from my insulting him to my attempt at an apology, how the coin flip kept me on the boat, and of course the kissing.
“See! I told you being me is awesome!”
Now it’s me who’s giggling and I’m not a giggler. “It really is, but it’s also terrifying. I don’t know how you do it.” A long sigh falls from my lips. “I really like this guy, but he thinks I’m you. So what do I do now?”
“I once told a guy I hung out with in Miami that I was a South African princess named Tina. We had a good five days together and he never knew the truth. No harm, no foul.”
“Tina doesn’t sound like a South African name.”
“Details.”
“So you’re saying I should . . . that I should just—”
“Don’t bust a forehead vein, Sawyer. Yes, I think you should hang out with him. It’s totally natural to have a quick summer fling with a hot guy at the beach.”
I bite my lip, feeling conspiratorial and kind of loving it. “Shouldn’t I at least tell him the truth? Tell him who I am?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
I wonder if I should list all the ways spending time with Aden in any kind of a sexual way would be very fun. God, what is wrong with me? That’s so not me!
“Besides, if you tell him now you could piss him off. That would ruin everything. And Sawyer . . .”
“Yeah.”
“I really don’t want anyone over there to know I’m dying.”
My heart squeezes painfully. “Don’t say that—”
“I’m serious. If you tell him you’re not me, they’ll wonder where I am and you’ll tell them and then my whole plan will be blown to shit.” A few beats of silence stretch between us. “Please, Sawyer? You promised.”
“Yeah, okay. It shouldn’t take me long to get done what I need to do, I’ll be out of here before anyone figures it out.”
“Thank you.” She yawns and it triggers a yawn of my own. “You sound exhausted.”
“I was going to say the same to you.” I snuggle deeper into the bed.
“I want daily updates.”
Another yawn crawls from my throat. “I know, I’ll call you every night.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I fall asleep shortly after with the phone still clutched in my hand and visions of Aden sailing through my mind.
EIGHT
SAWYER
The sound of a garbage truck in the alley pulls me from sleep. I blink open to sun shining through the window and stinging my bright red forearm. The events of yesterday flood back and pull my lips into a wide grin.
As much as I could lie under the covers obsessively reliving Aden’s kiss, my to-do list creeps in and pushes all thoughts of sexy sailors and summer flings aside.
After three cups of coffee to wake myself up and another liberal application of lotion to my crispy skin, I begin to sort Celia’s things. I assumed the process wouldn’t take more than a few hours, but I keep getting distracted. It’ll be a box of keepsakes that sends me to the couch to sort through so that I can learn a little more about my sister’s life, or a photo that makes my chest hurt so badly I have to go outside to get some fresh air.
Which is what I’m doing now.