Page 21 of Bumping into You

“Riddle me this,” I say. “If it’s not you causing us to run into each other so often, then what were you in so much of a rush for last night that you hopped into my car?”

“I did not hop in your car,” she says, though a touch of pink trickles up her cheeks to her ears. “Plus, I wasn’t the one who almost gave my keys to a total stranger.”

“True, though your outfit was so like that of the valets that I’ll admit, I was briefly confused.”

“I was not dressed like a valet!” she exclaims.

“I’m just stating my opinion.” I shrug.

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“It’s an opinion. How can that be wrong?” I question, leaning forward in my chair.

“Because . . . it just is.”

I raise my brow at that and ask, “Are you always this argumentative on vacation?”

“I’m not argumentative. I’m just stating a fact,” she says matter-of-factly. “And I’m not on vacation.” She leans back in her chair and stretches her legs out, her hair blowing in the wind.

It mesmerizes me, and I can’t help but stare at her. Our eyes meet briefly, and I catch a glimpse of the golden flakes in hers, glistening from the sunset. She quickly looks away.

Get a grip, it’s just a little flirting.I clear my throat before continuing, “Fair enough, Gwendolyn.”

Gwen’s phone pings. Looking down, she types out a message before saying, “And no one calls me Gwendolyn, I’m Gwen. . . . Just Gwen. And can we be done with this conversation? I’m getting a headache and already had enough stress from Bradley and my mom and dad.”

She slumps a little in her chair, putting her feet up on a makeshift lounge chair across from her. She looks out at theocean, rubbing her brow.

I study her for a bit. Do I really stress her out that much? I can’t get a read on her. First, we had that cute little incident in the car, but then she ate my head off at Duke’s Diner for saying she was beautiful. And what’s wrong with saying that, by the way? But then she seemed so grateful to me when I played along with her in front of Bradley and Tammy. And when we held hands, it felt like time slowed down and the world seemed to fade away, taking all its chaos with it. We were hand in hand, in our own private existence. She had to have felt that too. And now? Now, I have no idea what she feels toward me.

But it doesn’t matter. I’m unexplainedly drawn to her. I want to bring back the smile that I’ve so rarely glimpsed.

“What happened with your folks?” I ask.

She studies me before answering, “They almost missed the cruise.”

“Wow, the groom’s parents missing the cruise, what a nightmare. No wonder you have a headache.”

“I mean I would have figured out a way to get them here, but it wouldn’t have been until our first port day.” She sits up a little straighter in her chair, her eyes piercing me with her earnest sincerity. “I don’t want anything to go wrong this week for this wedding. Holly is my best friend, and she’s been through so much. She deserves the perfect wedding. And I love my brother. I wouldn’t want anything to ruin their celebrations. I have to make sure this cruise is perfect,” she says. Wiping tears from her eyes, she continues, “Thankfully, Mom and Dad listened to me and booked it here after they passed the traffic. They were literally the last two people to board the cruise. That’s what the text I just received from my mom said. And she was laughing about it. Can you believe that?”

“Sounds like all’s well then, right?” I ask.

She nods. “For now.” She stands and leans against the rail,looking out at the ocean, then adds, “It’s beautiful, you know? I forget sometimes how much I love the ocean.”

“Ah, it is,” I say, joining her. “I used to enjoy going to the beach in Boston with my mam. Not as warm as the Caribbean, mind you, but still, it’s a beautiful sight to see.”

“Used to? You don’t go anymore?”

“Well, err . . . you see, my mam passed away about a year ago. And I haven’t been able to bring myself to go to the Boston beach without her.” I scratch at my neck. I wasn’t planning on talking about any of this, but for some reason, I felt like opening up to her. Memories of the year-round picnics I had at the beach with my mam stream through me. She loved feeling the breeze and watching the waves roll in and out. A sadness blooms within my chest at the memory.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says Gwen.

“No need to be sorry, it’s all good. She would have loved the cruise, but she never really cared to leave Boston.”

“I’ve never been to Boston.”

“No?”

“Nope, I’ve been so busy building up my business that I’ve only been on work trips, and none have been in the Boston area, though I’ve always wanted to go.”

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