Page 19 of Finding Romance
“Bye, Troy,” she says, offering him a little wave. We’re left standing there and staring at my fish and sea anemones.
“So…sea anemones, huh?” she states as she stares at them.
“Yep.” She looks at me and then back at them.
I point to each one. “That’s Napoleon. He’s a beadlet anemone. He’s feisty. And that’s Winston, he lives inside,” I say as I point to the little clownfish. “And that is Ulysses. He’s a snakelocks anemone, and Churchill lives inside him,” I add.
“Wow…interesting choice of names,” she says. “And how is an anemone feisty?”
I laugh. “They just are. It’s the species.”
“Uh-huh,” she murmurs. “Well, they’re pretty.”
“Of course they are. My children are gorgeous,” I say in mock horror.
Piper starts giggling and then full-on snorts while laughing. “I’m sorry,” she manages after a minute. “I just…you are too much. Who knew you were capable of such affection with sea creatures?”
I shrug.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just…I guess I never thought of fish and such having feelings or being gorgeous.” She pauses and leans in to look more closely at my pets. “I mean, I guess they are. Have you seen any in the wild?”
I nod. “That’s where my fascination started.”
“Did you dive a lot growing up?” she asks.
“I learned as a kid, but then I was in the Navy and, well, I spent a lot of time in the water,” I explain.
“You must be a really good swimmer. I suck at it. But I do like to snorkel as long as I can stand up. I’ve gone a few times when I’ve been on vacations,” she says and something about that makes me sad for her.
“You never learned to swim?” I ask.
Shaking her head, she turns back to me. “No. My mom made me take some lessons, but I was little and afraid. I can doggie paddle a bit but I only go in water where I can reach the bottom.”
“I think we should fix that. I can give you a lesson at the gym. I mean, the pool isn’t great, but it’d work,” I offer.
She purses her lips and cocks her head to the side. “Maybe.”
“What? Don’t trust me?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know you that well.”
And with that simple sentence, I feel closer to her than I have to anyone in a long time. Her past has taught her not to trust, just like mine.
“Were you going somewhere…I mean, before you helped me here?”
“Just to get some coffee. I should probably get back and check on my aunt,” she says.
“You want to eat with me? I’m ordering some delivery. I don’t want to leave the tank until I know the patch is holding,” I explain.
She’s silent for a long beat and I begin to wonder if she doesn’t want to hang out with me, but then she speaks. “Sure. I just need to get Aunt Cornelia settled. Give me thirty minutes.”
“OK,” I reply as I walk her to the door. “I’ll leave it unlocked. Come back over when you’re ready.”
With a slight nod, she leaves and I go about drying the floor a little more and placing my now-drenched towels in the washer. By the time I finish, she’s back.
“Italian or Italian?” I ask.
“Oh, that’s a tough choice. Uh, I’m going to have to go with…Italian,” she replies with a grin.
