Page 46 of Enemies to Lobsters
I speed to my neighbor’s house to pick up Boone. We’re losing daylight. I’m ashamed to admit I want to do the sandwich thing quickly so I can have Diana to myself. I’m a terrible person. The feeling only intensifies when I spot Boone and Louise waiting on their front porch. She’s a tired mom who needs an hour of peace, and all I can think about is canoodling with my wife.
They meet us in the driveway. “Heyyyy,” Louise calls as Boone opens the passenger door. “Oh! Hi.” She looks from Diana to me with a gleam in her eye. “This is fun.”
Boone is eyeballing Diana in his usual seat like she’s a lettuce leaf in his sandwich.
“Hello again.” Diana’s red lips smile widely at Boone. “Hi, Louise.”
Louise smiles, but her concern is obvious. She swings open the back passenger door. “Hop in, kiddo.” Her eyes are wondering how Boone is going to handle this addition to our sandwich night.
So far, he’s stone faced, staring at Diana in his spot.
“Is it okay if Diana joins us, buddy?” I ask, but he won’t make eyecontact, and he isn’t climbing into the truck. His blond cowlickwaves in the breeze while we wait.
“Sorry,” Louise whispers. She’s as desperate to make this work as anyone. “Hop in, Boone.”
He doesn’t.
I’m silently begging the skies that Diana won’t offer to sit in the back with the lobster sarcophagus. Before I can think of another solution, she scoots across the bench toward me.
“Does this work? I’ll sit right by stinky Ike and you’ll have all the room you need.” Diana’s voice is tender and quiet. “Okay, buddy?”
That does it. Diana calling Boone my little nickname for him, combined with the feel of her soft hip pressed against my side? That’s pure magic. This woman has total control over me. She could drag me to the top of Mount Everest and make me toboggan down the back side, and I’d do it with a dumb grin on my face. There’s some witchcraft happening here.
Louise breathes an audible sigh of relief when Boone climbs onto the seat. She gives Diana a look of pleasant surprise, then shuts the back door with a, “Thanks.”
Boone is careful to leave a few inches of space between himself and Diana like he’s put up an invisible cootie forcefield. She must sense his discomfort because she scoots even closer to my side. No complaints here. This is why the bench seat was invented, right?
As we pull away, I catch Louise dancing up her driveway in my rear view mirror. Good for her. I know she loves Boone, but her job never ends. Watching her happy dance reinforces that I made the right choice tonight.
We swing by Marlow's, and I run in to grab our standing take-out order, with a surprise addition for my date.
“Ready for a wild Saturday night?” I wag my eyebrows at Diana, passing the brown bag to her as I get back in my truck. Thanks to the humid ocean air, it’s warm even now that the sun is lowering. I’m sweating. And I’m nervous about my worlds colliding. What if Boone doesn't take to Diana? I need these two to click. Louise seemed to like her—a huge point in her favor. What if Diana doesn’t take to me?
“Did you get a whoopie pie for me?” Diana asks.
I reverse out of my spot in front of Marlow’s Diner. “It’s not fun to surprise you when you guess the surprise.”
Boone grunts. It’s as much as he’s said since we picked him up. I’m calling it a happy grunt. Fingers crossed.
∞∞∞
It was not a happy grunt. We ate our picnic at an overlook facing the Atlantic, with Diana and me providing all of the small talk. This only seemed to agitate Boone. I dragged things out for as long as possible to give his parents more time, but he is done. And when my little neighbor is done, things can go sidewaysquickly. The sun finished setting, leaving a glowing trail of pink and orange clouds behind us as we drop Boone back at home.
“Bye, buddy.” Diana’s voice is sweet, but strained. She’s tried so hard tonight.
He closes the door in her face.
With a tired laugh, she slides her hands down her legs as I back down the driveway. “There’s no way he’s heard the rumors, right?”
I chuckle. “Don’t take it personally.” I pull her hand away from her knee, lacing our fingers together. “It took him months to stop slapping me on sight. It’s not you. Boone is a tricky communicator. Give him time. He’ll love you.” I’m not giving her hand back, though.
Shehmms, but doesn’t respond. She seems down, and that doesn’t work for me.
“Get over here.” I tug her hand, but she doesn't budge. She'sbelted into the passenger seat. With a huff I pull onto the shoulder, unbuckle her seatbelt, rearrange her in the seat beside me, and put the truck back in drive.
“Ike.”
“Yeah?” I signal onto the road that leads to our lighthouse.
