Page 55 of Go Away, Darling

Luckily Berlin was home for the weekend and we had our regular lunch date scheduled. After I popped into the history museum under the canopy of oaks and pines, I made my way to the patio of The Red Tourist. Berlin was already sitting at a table under a red umbrella near the end, looking at a menu.

“Did Clint change the menu?”

“No,” she sighed, closing the large plastic covered tri-fold. “I’m just in a mood and I thought looking at things would help me decide.”

“You’re going to get salad. You always get the salad.”

“I know,” she grumbled. Today she wore loose white shorts with thin blue stripes, a matching blue tank top, and strappy brown leather sandals. Her hair was up in a braided bun that looked straight out of a science fiction movie.

“So what’s with the mood?”

She twisted her lips off to the side. “My sisters don’t like Ryker.”

I tried not to make a face, but I’m pretty sure I failed because she groaned and slumped in her chair. “You too?”

“He’s...different. But you like him and he seems nice. So maybe we just need to get used to different.”

“Is it the polo shirts?”

I winced. “Yes and no. It’s more what the polo shirts represent.” He always wore polo shirts.Always.Not sometimes. Casual lunch? Polo shirt. Date night? Polo shirt. Saturday morning? Polo shirt. Walk on the beach? Polo shirt. I was almost positive he didn’t own a regular old t-shirt, let alone an athletic shirt or even a UPF shirt, which nearly everyone wore on the island. Heck, I’d even take a Hawaiian shirt at the point.

She waved her hand in a “go on” gesture.

“Well, he’s rigid. He’s not an islander. He can’t seem to relax or change or adapt.”

“He’s learning.”

Is he?“It just feels like a square peg in a round hole. Does he want this kind of life? Really? Or is he twisting himself up to fit you?”

She blanched. “I don’t know.”

“I think, more than anything, that’s what worries me. If he doesn’t want to wear swim trunks to the beach that’s fine. That’s his quirk, we all have them. But if he lives on land and you live in the sea, then one of you has to grow legs or a tail to make this work.”

“Are you Little Mermaiding my relationship?”

I shrugged. “Maybe?”

She groaned just as our regular waitress, Annabella, came up with our waters and Red Tourist garlic cheesy bread. “How are we today?” Her gaze caught on Berlin and darted back to me.

“We’re good. We’ll have the usual.”

“Of course. Dressing on the side, Berlin?”

“No. Drench it. Give me all the calories.”

Annabella shot me another wary gaze before darting off.

“What about you? What’s happening with Chris?”

Berlin was still skeptical of my relationship as well. I think the only thing that kept her from giving me a hard time was the fact that Chris and I were in the friend zone again.

“I’ve come to the conclusion we’re both square pegs.”

“He’s still a professional athlete.”

I didn’t bite back immediately like I wanted to because the last thing we needed was a tit for tat fight over men when really we just cared about each other so much we got emotional. “Maybe baseball players are just different. Chris isn’t like Beau or Jack.”

Berlin watched me as she sipped her water and selected a slice of the delicious bread. “Football and hockey are both aggressive contact sports. Baseball is not.” She chewed as she thought through her theory. I liked where this was going. “I suppose there’s a lot of individualism in the sport as well.”

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