Page 41 of The Bosun

That was true, but I was desperate to get out of Oasis once we got back from our trip. Since then, it had been four long months of watching Brock’s fiancée get bigger and bigger and then giving birth and the town talking about it. I hated seeing the pity on their faces every time I went out that it got to the point I pretty much stayed at home unless I was house hunting.

“Hey,” Pen turned toward me and grabbed my hand. “I found something in my purse last night, and I feel so stupid it took me so long to see it.”

“Okay,” I drew the word out, wondering what the hell she was talking about.

“Listen, I know you’ve been bummed about Remy, and I get it. You put yourself out there only to find out he was a cheater, but the thing is, I don’t think he is an actual cheater.”

Now that got my attention.

“What do you mean? Why are you all of a sudden coming to his defense?”

Pen had been the leader of the hate Remy bandwagon, telling us we should ice him out, and it had worked. Remy stayed away as much as he could, and when he had to be around us or me, he kept his head down and went on with his work.

Her mouth thinned out into a grimace. “Because I found a note from him in my purse.”

“What?” I jumped back into the cushions and shouted. “Did you read it?”

“Kind of. I didn’t know what it was at first, and then…” She pulled a piece of paper out of her hoodie pocket and handed it over. “Read it and see for yourself.”

Plucking it out of her hand, I slowly unfolded the piece of paper, unsure if I was ready to read what Remy had to say. And did it really matter when I’d never see him again? Not really, but it would make me feel better that I didn’t make the worst choices in men.

Tears filled my eyes as I read it. Not because Remy said he wasn’t a cheater, but from his belief in me and that he thought our time together was special. Without the ugliness that ensued, our time together had meant something to me. It signified that I was ready to move on with my life.

As the first tear fell, Pen’s arms wrapped around me as she laid her head against mine. “See, he’s not a bad guy.”

All I could do was nod. I knew if I spoke, I’d turn into a sobbing mess.

“Too bad he didn’t leave his number.”

Something that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a sob came out as I opened my mouth. “I wouldn’t use it if he had.”

Pulling me closer, she whispered, “Why not?”

“Because what good would it do? It’s not like I’m going to fly to Spain for a booty call. If I had his address, maybe I’d write him a letter saying I forgive him and no hard feelings. Really though, what can I do?”

Pen sighed, making my hair blow in my face. “Nothing, but I thought it might make you feel better about the whole experience.”

“Really?” I asked with a raised brow. Remy wasn’t the only downside to the trip.

“Well,” she pulled back enough so that our eyes locked, “to feel better about letting him bang you. I’m not sure you’ll ever get over the way Reagan was toward you.”

“Would you get over it?” She shook her head and let me continue. “All my life, I’ve been told how I’m not white enough or not black enough, and all the stereotypical things that go with being black because then I’m black to them. I know how to swim, goddammit, and I hate fried chicken and watermelon. If they don’t like it, they can all stick it up their asses.”

“I know you have, and you know I’ve loved you for who you are since the day I met you. You’re beautiful inside and out, and don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“Hey,” I pushed her shoulder, “did you steal that from my letter?”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true, and it proves I’m not the only one who sees it. Fuck Brock and his racist family. If I ever find a guy and his family hates me, I might have to break up with him.”

I laughed at that until it sparked a memory that I wanted to talk to her about; why hadn’t she been boy crazy lately? I noticed it on the boat, but after we got back, I hadn’t thought of it with everything else going on. While Pen had been around to help me house hunt, she’d been working more than usual, even for her. That, along with not saying she wanted to hook up with just about every guy who crossed her path, was not like her, and now was the perfect time to find out what was going on with my friend.

Positioning myself on the couch, so I was facing her with one leg bent, I leaned back and examined her. “You know,” I smiled, knowing she was not going to like what I was about to say, “thinking back to when we were on that trip, I remember I wanted to talk to you about something when we got home, and I never did. It’s crazy you didn’t remind me.”

Pen threw her head back against the couch and moaned. “Because there’s nothing to talk about.”

“If there’s nothing to talk about, why have you been working so much?”

“Because the band I’m working with has amazing potential, but they needed a lot of guidance.” She looked away before she could finish her sentence, proving to me there was more.

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