Page 28 of Give & Take

But he also lets them steerandthrow the anchor out into the ocean. And at the end of the day, I convince him to jump into the ocean with me and Nova. Shelby gets a picture of him midair, and when she shows it to us even he laughs at his perfect, frowning cannonball. I make her text it to me, and in turn, I send it to Lana, with the caption ‘Kids pushed me in!’

She likes the text. Likes! I laugh out loud. “Progress,” I say out loud.

Thursday’s an epic bike ride and hike, and by the time Friday rolls around, we’re ready for the beach.

I saved the best for last, for the best reason. Lana works at the Rusty Dinghy. Which is on the beach.

Chapter 9

Lana

“Ruh roh!” Chris says as I stroll through the open garage-style door onto the patio of the Rusty Dinghy. She pushes a chair out for me.

I flop down across from my friend, who’s eating a pre-shift lunch.

“It’s been a long day,” I say wearily. Out on the beach a seagull screeches, making me wince. I don’t have a headache, but I feel like there’s been one lingering in the shadows.

Chris’s bangles jingle as she stabs a forkful of salad into her mouth. “It’s only noon.”

I look down at my hands on the table. They’re shaking. Just the tiniest bit, but it’s there. I stuff them under my legs, feigning a smile.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

I study my friend for a moment. There’s something off about her. She glances at me, then to the side ofthe table, where she’s got a shoebox tucked next to the condiment caddy.

“What’s going on with you?” I toss back.

“You first! You seem nervous.”

Damn it, she saw my hands before I hid them. “Not nervous,” I say. Even though I am. I have been all day. There’s this anxious, anticipatory feeling that’s been pricking at me, making me clumsy. I’m on edge, like my body is primed for some kind of extreme sport. I’m a mess of adrenaline and nerves.

And plucking at the edges, something exquisitely exciting. I know I’ve kept myself closed for years, shuttered my heart to feelings that felt too sharp, or too hard to contemplate. And it worked. Or at least, that’s what I told myself. But Raphael’s presence in our lives has completely upended me. It’s made plainly obvious that in keeping out the bad, I’ve also kept myself from the kinds of good I thought were out of my reach.

I’ve felt more in the past week than I have in years. Maybe ever. And it scares the fuck out of me.

“I already had a pack full of underage kids try to order martinis with fake IDs,” I offer instead. “They were my first table when we opened.”

Chris snorts, then chokes on a piece of lettuce. I get up, leaning forward and clapping her on the back, deeply grateful for the sharp veer away from me and my feelings.

“I’m sorry, what?” Chris says when she’s gotten ahold of herself.

“They asked for olives!” I say, loosening up a bit to laugh just a little. I’d been so distracted I couldn’t laughabout it until now. “They couldn’t have been more than fourteen. I asked them if they wanted their olives puréed and one actually said yes. So I said I’d call their moms to do it and they all bolted.”

While Chris laughs at this, I pluck one of her croutons from her salad.

Maybe I’ll be okay today. Maybe, for the first time in a week, I’ll be able to regain control over my runaway brain and absolutely off-the-rails hormones.

Then I picture Raphael as I saw him this morning, the way he met my eyes as he handed me my thermos of coffee, the big cup nearly disappearing in his grip. The way I massaged my hand as I ran to work, trying to quell the echo of the way our fingers touched.

I’m out of control. This…lust—it isn’t natural.

Chris is sitting there, looking at me curiously. I scramble for something to say that isn’t ‘I’ve turned into a middle-aged, intimate-touch-starved pervert lusting after the man I absolutely shouldn’t keep on now that his trial period’s over, which it is—today—even though he’s doing amazing and my kids adore him.’

“Also,” I say quickly, “Mac went into a panic because Shelby wouldn’t pick up the phone when he checked in.”

I tell Chris how our boss actually drove to the hospital, convinced Shelby was having the baby early. I unwind, telling the story, that tension loosening enough to remember myself.

“Then,” I say, “Shelby came here!”

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