Page 89 of Second Tide's the Charm
She smiles. “Don’t be. I was thrilled to actually have a two-sided conversation with her about sharks for once.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “Is outreach where your interests lie? Because there are some great programs I could recommend getting involved with.”
My knee-jerk reaction is to say no, but Marissa mentioned something along the same lines a few weeks ago. I turned her down, certain without her extroversion, it wouldn’t be a good fit. But maybe it’s time to be open to new paths again.
The boat radio crackles and Brittney, the researcher on shore using the drone says, “We’ve got a shark about three meters off the bow. Starboard side.”
The news has us all swiveling in our seats. No telltale dorsal cutting through the waves, but when I unbend my knees and half stand, I see it—a dark shape cruising just below the surface.
Gwen lets out a whoop and Marty hoists the tagging stick. “Hope, ready to take photos?”
This time my hands are steady. “Born ready.”
She grins at me. “I know the feeling.”
We come up alongside the shark, swimming in a sinuous motion, deep gray against blue. As we draw alongside, the animal angles away and Keith turns the boat to follow.
My pulse builds, heart thudding in a crescendo as I peer down into the water at the shark’s streamlined body. I could do this every day and be happy. But every night, I wish I could go home to Adrian.
The room lights flicker to full brightness as Marissa’s talk concludes, and she steps to the side of the podium to answer questions from the cluster of people who’ve gathered up front. I stay seated, searching the crowd making their way to the exits for the same person whose name I scanned the program for: Dr. Adrian Hollis-Parker.
I haven’t heard from him since I left, and as the weeks went by, I stopped checking my phone every moment and settled into life here. The palm trees are taller than the palmettos I’d grown used to, the water colder. But there are sharks, and new friends, and today I drove to Los Angeles to hear Marissa speak at a conference. She didn’t mention Adrian, and I didn’t ask, scared to hear the answer.
Now I know how he must’ve felt when I asked for space. Zuri thought maybe he was trying to turn the tables out of spite, but that’s not Adrian. He doesn’t want to get back at me for how I hurt him, he wants to figure out how not to hurt me. But every day he stays away, he’s doing just that.
At any rate, he’s not here. Not listed in the program. Not appearing from backstage at the end of Marissa’s presentation to profess his love with a podium mic. He didn’t fly in to surprise me, and I’ll have to accept that he might never come.
Unable to handle the claustrophobic confines of the auditorium any longer, I send Marissa a text.
Hope: I’ll be out in the lobby.
Grabbing my purse, I slide past the few people remaining in my aisle, then head out the heavy double doors into the bright atrium. Pockets of people are gathered at tall tables, chatting in a network-y sort of way that reminds me I should make use of this time. But first I could use a drink in my hand to make me feel more at ease.
I glance around and spot a beverage station set up on a long table. Weaving my way through the knots of people, I reach the table and see a carafe of hot water. Perfect. I fill a cup and set it down while I sort through the selection of tea bags in search of something decaf. But when I turn back around, my cup isn’t there.
“Who steals a cup of hot water?” I ask aloud, venting my frustration over missing Adrian, and certain no one will hear me above the din.
But a voice responds from over my shoulder, close enough to tickle the hairs on the back of my neck. “Are you calling me a water bandit?”
I whirl around and there he is. In dark gray slacks and a pullover that does indecent things to his pecs. He’s cradling my teacup in his big hands and while this isn’t technically a café, nor have I just presented a groundbreaking paper, the situation is so close to my old fantasies of a chance meeting with him that I blurt out a frazzled version of my well-rehearsed speech. “The water’s all yours.”
He blinks. “Uh, I don’t want it. That guy—” he lifts his chin toward a balding man walking away from the table “—was going to toss it, so I saved it for you.” The water sloshes slightly; his hands are trembling. “I probably should’ve called first. But I wanted to talk to you in person. I know it’s been a long time, and last time we talked, I was a mess.” He bites his lip, and it takes everything in me not to close the distance between us. “What I’m trying to ask is—” he takes a deep breath, vulnerability tugging his brows inward “—can we talk?”
Words I’ve waited weeks to hear. “You came a long way for the answer to be no.”
“The distance doesn’t matter. The choice is yours.”
As if I would refuse. “Okay.” I pluck the cup from his hands, the warmth of his fingers seeping into my chilled skin. “But you’ll have to get your own drink.” I grin up at him, unable to resist teasing, though my heart is in my throat. “No running off with mine.”
We’re ensconced in a pair of plush chairs near an escalator, and fronds from the nearby plant keep tickling my arm with blasts from the vents, but I barely notice the irritation, because Adrian is here.
He waits for me to take a sip of tea, then says, “You were right.”
I swallow carefully, uncertain how to respond. Does he mean I was right to leave three years ago?
“I wasn’t just trying to protect you. I was also trying to protect myself.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Uncertainty scares me. Having things out of my control affect people I care about is an awful feeling. I didn’t want you to be in harm’s way because of me, but I also didn’t want to give you a chance to hurt me. I wanted to know what our life together would look like every step of the way.”
He glances out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lines of his profile tight and full of apprehension, his beard not quite as neatly trimmed as when I left. But when he looks back at me, his gaze is soft. “If I couldn’t see it all laid out, I didn’t know how to believe in it. I was so caught up envisioning the many ways it could go wrong that I failed to see how right things already were between us.”
“But I did, and you shut me out.”
