Page 94 of Second Tide's the Charm
I let out a laugh that echoes through the empty space. I used to meet Hope here on weekends we spent together—her in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, with musty boots I always insisted she toss in the trunk first thing. It feels weird to be in this space all dressed up and grown up, to have come so far and made it back to each other.
“This dress might be more gala-appropriate than the shark dress, but it doesn’t hold a candle to your outfit.” She smooths her hands down my lapels. “It’s ridiculous how sexy you look, Hollis-Parker. Did you come straight from a casting for Bond?”
Can’t lie, her admiration fills me up. “I’d gladly be a consultant for the franchise. Debunk some silver screen myths.”
“Ooh, yes. Changing the public perception of sharks. First step social media, next up, Hollywood.”
With a chuckle, I take her hand. “Want to go shopping?”
A crease appears between her brows, but she lets me lead her toward the aquarium gift shop. My heart is thudding in my chest. At least if this gesture falls flat, there will be no one around to witness it. Hope doesn’t like the limelight and wouldn’t appreciate me professing my love in front of a crowd, but she deserves to know just how much I treasure her.
The glass doors of the gift shop are propped open, stars projected in a slow kaleidoscope of motion on the ceiling in the dim blue light. A popcorn machine is sitting right inside the door, the scent of hot butter and fresh salt making my stomach rumble, loud in the stillness, and Hope laughs softly.
She hasn’t said anything, and I don’t dare look at her, not yet. I open the Plexiglas door and scoop popcorn into a bag, handing it to her, and when I do, I see her eyes are shining with happiness.
“No food or drink allowed in the gift shop,” she says, pointing to the large sign by the register. “Breaking the rules for me, Adrian?”
“You’re worth it.” Placing my hand on her waist, I lean in and gently kiss her. Beneath the rough sequins of her dress is the soft, familiar swell of her hip, and I close my eyes, memorizing the feel of her. When I pull away, I add, “Plus the aquarium director said you clocked in early every shift, so she trusted you.”
A laugh bubbles out of Hope, fizzy as a soda can cracked open in July and at the sound, my nerves evaporate, leaving me with an effervescent happiness.
“You have some time to shop before they come looking for us.” I hand her a basket from the stack just inside the door, then steer her deeper into the store with a hand at the small of her back.
She looks over her shoulder. “I can choose anything?”
“Anything.” But her gift should be hard to miss.
She wanders around a few displays, with me a step behind, waiting for her to see it. She stoops down to look at a T-shirt on a low shelf, and the box in the shopping basket slides to the front with a quiet jingle.
Her eyes dart to the basket, and she claps a hand over her mouth. She lifts out the rectangular box and stands up. “Adrian, what is this?”
“Yours,” I say simply.
With trembling hands, she pops the lid and lifts out a silver charm bracelet. I’m not sure if they’re trendy or not, but I’m hoping she appreciates the nostalgia. Each charm has significance. A great white shark—her favorite. A manta ray—so she’ll never have to worry about leaving her necklace behind. A circular pendant of Michigan, surrounded with all five Great Lakes engraved in blue—I made sure of that. And a heart.
Gently, I reach around and flip the heart over, laying it in her palm so she can read the inscription, my mouth forming the words as she reads them aloud. “What’s mine is yours.”
“And it’s a heart so...” I rub my hand against my jaw, suddenly worried this is too cheesy, but when she looks up, her eyes are glistening, smile bright. “What I’m trying to say is that my heart is yours.”
“This is too much,” she says, bracelet cradled in her palm.
With a glance at her face to see if it’s okay, I wrap it around her wrist and fasten the clasp, relieved my hands are no longer trembling. Her skin is warm, pulse rapid under my fingertips, and I squeeze her palm. “It’s just a shopping trip.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not. It’s our first date. But better.”
“You remembered.” I wasn’t sure she would, though I did my best to re-create it. We drove up the coast to the boardwalk on Myrtle Beach and did all the touristy things—stopped in at least a dozen souvenir stops, gorged ourselves on fresh seafood, got our hands sticky with cotton candy and shared a giant lemonade to slake our thirst after a bag of popcorn neither of us was hungry enough to finish.
Pressing a kiss to my lips, she pulls back and says, “I never want to forget.”
We’d ended the night by catching the end of a concert out in the street. Right on cue, a song starts piping through the speakers. There’s a rustle by the door and I turn to see Marissa crouched by the Bluetooth speaker I’d set up, Iris hovering over her. “Nothing to see here. Just mobile tech support,” my sister says.
Marissa pushes a button and the volume increases, flooding the room with Nat King Cole’s melodious voice. “See y’all at dinner.” She grins and they both slink away, my cousin nearly as tall as Iris for once, thanks to the platform sandals she’s wearing.
I turn to see Hope’s tears are gone but her smile is wider than ever. “You went all out.”
“No ma’am,” I say, tugging her close. “I’m all in. I know this is a lot.”
“Perfect. It’s perfect.” She tilts her head to look up at me, the soft scent of vanilla on her skin, eyes glistening in the low light. “Amazing. Wonderful.” She squeezes my hands. “I love you.”
