Page 151 of Here & There

My heart’s in my throat as the man gets closer.

The man who couldn’t possibly be Mac.

When Annie came to pick up Nate this morning, my heart fell. I wanted to see him, no matter how angry I was. I wanted to throw my arms around him, and then maybe shove him as hard as I could. But he was back in Redbeard.

But big, wet, red-and-black checked arms cut through the sparkling blue ocean now, in an expert front crawl, until finally he’s in the swimming area, and there’s no room for doubt.

Mac navigates around the giant raft and the people leaping off it.

Swimmers are starting to notice. They point at the clothed man swimming, glancing from him to me.

Halfway into the buoyed area, when he reaches a spot where he can touch, Mac stands up, slicking the hair out of his face, his eyes scanning the beach.

I’m in the water, calf-deep, trembling with something I’m not sure is love or tears or anger.

Probably a mix of all three.

When his eyes land on mine I swear Ifeelthe hope in his expression.

Mac wades through the water extremely awkwardly, splashing bathers he passes, several of whom yell.

“Sorry,” he says, not even looking at them.

He stops only when he’s a few feet away from me, his chest heaving. “Shelby,” he breathes. “Hey.”

For a moment, I only stare. Finally, I say, “Hello, Mac.” Then I reach my hands up, my fingertips grazing the soaked flannel spread across his chest.

His big dripping-beard face fills with a look of relief that nearly breaks me.

I want to jump on him, to kiss him all over his face. I want to cup my hands against his cheeks and tell him to pick me up and carry me home. Because he would. I know he would.

But I don’t do those things. Instead, I rest my hands against his chest. Then, because there are children around, I yell “Screw you!” and shove him as hard as I can, fulfilling my own wish from earlier to knock the stupid man over.

Mac’s off balance in the water to begin with, and I manage to make him stumble backward. He probably would have caught himself if there hadn’t been a beach ball floating behind him. Butthe big yellow orb gets twisted up in his legs. It pops up in the air like a cork as he falls backward on his ass with a giant splash.

The crowd around us whoops. A toddler next to me thinks this man is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen and lets out a delighted shriek.

Mac sputters in the water, shaking water from his hair. “Shelby.”

“You deserved that!” I yell. Then I stride past him and dive into the water, swimming as hard and fast as I can for the raft.

I pick my way around the people and sit on the far side.

Mac’s there a moment later.

“Shelby.” He treads water in front of me. “You’re right. I deserved that.”

I lift my knees up, wrapping my arms around my legs. “You were such an asshole, Mac!”

“I know.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I love you.”

“Aw!” a trio of women in their early twenties beside me says. They’re in matching bikinis in red, yellow, and blue.

Mac glances at them and grits his teeth, swimming closer to me, like he somehow wants this very public moment to only involve us. His eyes are pleading with me.

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