Page 12 of Second Tide's the Charm
Trust? Hope and I built a life together, and then she walked away and let it fall to pieces. The woman I spent over half a decade with is now a stranger, and my cousin thought she’d be the ideal person to join our crew? There’s no way I can work alongside Hope for a day, let alone a whole summer.
“Not happening.”
“Weren’t you just saying we could use an extra pair of hands?” Gabe chimes in.
I’d forgotten he was there, and his presence is a fresh embarrassment. “Did you know about this?”
His silence stretches a beat too long. Guess that explains the line of questioning earlier. He was trying to gauge my reaction to Hope’s arrival. But why not just tell me? Before I can ask, Iris speaks up again.
“I thought I was here to offer feedback on your channel but seems you two are up to your old antics,” she says. “Should’ve known when you teamed up together drama would ensue.” Brows arched above her glasses, she divides a glance between Marissa and me.
Once again, I find myself taking the fall for one of my cousin’s wild schemes. Except this time, it’s not a mobile vet clinic run out of a Radio Flyer wagon. She’s interfering in my personal life and putting our work in jeopardy. Ignoring my sister for the moment, I tell Marissa, “It’sourchannel. You’re not supposed to make unilateral decisions.”
“We agreed we needed another research assistant. Hope is qualified and available,” she says. “You’re suggesting I should’ve wasted time searching for someone else with the season already underway?”
“It’s too complicated.”
“Why, because you two have a history?”
We don’t have a history. We have a present. Hope is with me every day—her dry humor, her copper-bright eyes, her pure, undiluted enthusiasm—I can’t escape her when she’s a thousand miles away. How will I survive the torture of having her onboard all summer, yet further than ever?
Marissa crosses her arms, tipping her head back to look me in the eye. “You’re saying you wouldn’t hire someone qualified just because they’re not your favorite person?”
I flinch. Hope was my favorite person. Maybe always will be, in spite of how things ended. “Don’t relegate this to the hypothetical. Hope is my ex-girlfriend.” I’ve never said that word aloud, and it nearly chokes me. It feels like such an understatement for the bond I thought we had with each other.
I glare down at Marissa. “Why don’t you invite one of your exes to work with us?”
“You know I don’t date scientists. Too inquisitive. I like to keep some mystery in a relationship.” She stands up, facing me down, not looking at all remorseful for colossally screwing with my life.Ourlives. No way accepting this job was easy on Hope.
“But if I did,” she says, “I’d be fine with having them onboard, because I’m over all my exes. Hence why we’re no longer together.”
“You’re saying I still have feelings for Hope?”
Everyone stays silent. That’s answer enough, and I grit my teeth, embarrassed. This is why I never bring her up. With the revolving door of friends thanks to switching schools so often, Marissa became the friend I could always count on, and with the difference in our ages, Iris helped raise me, so I’ve never been able to hide my feelings from either of them. Should’ve known they’d see my refusal to talk about Hope as proof my feelings for her are a jumbled wreck.
Unable to deal with their scrutiny, I peer back at the boat again. Hope’s still there, pacing. Waiting for me. Wondering what’s going on.
Just like I was, three years ago, waiting for her to make up her mind about our future. Discovering she might not want a life with me, and being too cowardly to find out for sure, until her silence gave me the answer I dreaded.
“Damn it, Marissa.” My skin is itchy under a film of salt and silt, my heart feels bruised, and my head is spinning. I could blame the dizziness on the impromptu plunge, but the truth is Hope knocked my world off its axis the day we met, in the best possible way, then left me reeling.
I close my eyes against the sight of her standing in the bow of my boat, named before I’d given up hope of a future with her in it. “She can’t stay.”
seven
hope
Adrian has been gone for a really long time. Okay, five minutes, max. But five impatient minutes spent steaming in the Southern heat I’m not reacclimated to feels like an eternity. Especially when I’m trying to push away the memory of Adrian’s grip on my water-slick skin as he tugged me to the surface—the way his touch made me gasp, the press of his fingertips the reminder of everything I haven’t let myself desire for years.
To distract myself, I move into the shade next to the helm and take stock of my surroundings. Most of the boat slips in this small marina are empty, but a guy in a nearby sailboat is having a one-sided conversation with his labradoodle, and nineties pop music blares from a crowded pontoon boat motoring out toward the Intercoastal Waterway.
I could leave too. Get an Uber back to Marissa’s condo, grab my stuff, and hightail it back to Michigan. Find a job with no complications. But when the engine noise fades, I become aware of voices, and glance over to see Adrian and Marissa heading toward me, arguing. I freeze, straining to catch their words.
“No, what? She’s already here,” Marissa says, walking quickly to keep up with Adrian’s long strides.
“Under false pretenses,” Adrian snaps.
So they don’t need my help, after all. I drove across the country for nothing.
