Page 12 of The Beachgoers
“No. No, it’s not that.” Celia turns to him. “I’m glad you’re here. Really. I just have a few things on my mind right now.”
Shane steps even closer. “Can I help?” he asks, his voice low. And he doesn’t move.
“I wish you could.”
“Missing Aria today?”
“Little bit.”
“Celia.” Shane touches the collar of her gingham sheath. “If something’s up, just say it.”
Celia shakes her head. “I can’t.”
Not that she has to. Some bad news is obvious in the way she briefly squeezes her eyes closed. In the way her voice quiets.
“Celia,” he says again, stroking her arm. She drops her head back with a regretful smile—one thatcouldhave him worried. One that could have him think… this is it. She’s done with him. It’s all been a mistake. It’s all too much, too soon. There’s no way their relationship can work. There are too many prying eyes here that might not like it. She wants out. “Well,” Shane says, instead of anything else. “I know you’re busy. Elsa’s waiting for you, and you have to get ready.” He reaches for the corsage on the table. “Here, let me leave this with you.”
Celia leans against the counter behind her. “Shane. It was really nice of—”
“Try it on for a sec.” As he interrupts, Shane opens the box and lifts out the white-rose corsage. He takes Celia’s arm then and slips the cuff bracelet around her wrist.
“Perfect,” she says, almost shyly.
Shane looks at her. “It reminded me of the flowers in that old rowboat, the night we went for a midnight ride a few weeks back? When Kyle and Lauren were going to renew their vows?”
“White roses.” Celia touches the delicate flower petals.
“Put it in the fridge when you get dressed. It’ll stay fresh that way.”
“I will.”
“Listen. There’s still an hour before things begin. And I’m dressed already, so—”
“And looking very sharp.” Celia touches his chambray shirt collar, then gives his black vest a gentle tug.
“I can stick around,” Shane insists.
Again, she gives one of those damn smiles. The kind that’s like a sucker punch, the way there’s some disappointment in it. Shane can only think it’s directed at him, somehow. That something more’s to come.
“Keep you company?” he suggests.
“No. Shane.” She fusses with the wrist corsage, then takes it off and sets it back in its plastic box.
The late-afternoon sunlight shining in the kitchen warms the room. A ceiling fan slowly paddles the air. Shane watches as Celia sets the corsage in her refrigerator.
“I’ll be so busy getting ready, and going over to the inn to host with Elsa,” she says over her shoulder. “There’ll be a big dinner tonight, catered by The Dockside.”
“My brother’s diner?”
Celia turns to him and nods. “The dining room is all set up, but we’ve got last-minute place settings to arrange. Centerpieces. And I need to check on a platform for a jazz combo on the beach.”
“There’s a band, too?”
“We went all out.”
“In that case, save me a dance tonight?”
“Of course.”
And nothing else out of Celia. So Shane turns up his hands again, he can’t help it. Just turns them up, walks to Celia and tucks her hair behind an ear. “I’ll see you in a while, then.” He briefly holds her hand as he backs up a few steps. “Hope whatever’s on your mind sorts itself out.”
She looks like shewantsto say something. Like she’s just on the verge of spilling it.
But she doesn’t. Instead she tells him only, “I hope so, too.”
