Page 2 of Oceansong
He was within eyeshot, strawberry blond hair flopping at his forehead. His steps were heavy and clumsy, arm swing stilted, his forced smile lopsided.
What did Mia, her older sister, see in this overconfident, obnoxiousman? It beat her.
Nick stopped beside her, panting. “Angela,” he drawled.
“You know I don’t like being called that.” With her arms across her chest, she faced him.
“I know.” His lips widened into a toothy grin, too fake for Angie’s liking. “You told me. Because your parents and teachers called you that when you got in trouble.”
So, he did listen, but clearly, he didn’t care. No need to remind him yet again. “What’s up?” She plucked the thick gloves off her hands and shoved them into her coat pockets, keeping her distance and angled her body away from him.
If she were lucky, he would get the hint that she wanted to go home, not be stuck here longer than she already had.
No luck. “Well, Miss Angela Song.” He paused, still not telling her what he wanted.
Angie winced, but forced a smile.
Stay calm. Don’t piss him off or you’ll piss off Bàba, too. Can’t have that. Nick was his right-hand man. The son he never had.
This was her dream job for the summer. She could be with family, save enough money for graduate school. And work near the ocean, her happy place, where she could dive and explore the undersea world in her free time.
And more importantly, get enough work hours to meet her future graduate school’s requirements before starting her PhD program in the fall.
Nick continued despite her non-response, his voice grating. “You have today’s duty report?”
“You want my duty report? That’s why you were running at me like your ass was on fire?”
Her sarcasm might as well be a shooting star over his head. “It’s the end of the day, and I need to get them from sixty of you. So, hand it over.” The phony grin stayed on his face, and he extended his arm.
Angie pushed past him. “I’m giving it to my dad.”
“No, he asked me to take it from you.” Nick’s outstretched arm blocked her path, and Angie sighed, dropping her papers into his grubby paws. “Oh, and Mia’s looking for you. She’s here with Rosie. They’re coming this way now.”
Angie’s irritation subsided, and she beamed.
“She’s picking you up?” She never broke stride, hoping to get to Mia and Rosie before Nick did.
Private time with her older sister and her daughter without Nick was a luxury. Not waiting for Nick’s answer, she waved to Mia and swept Rosie–named for the female lead fromTitanic, Mia’s favorite movie–into a hug, before embracing Mia.
To this day, she didn’t understand Mia’s hopeless romantic views, or why she loved that movie so much.
How could you fall in love with someone in a matter of days? The thought of falling for someone who was her complete opposite just seemed like more headache than it was worth. Why should love be hard?
“Angieayí!” Five-year-old Rosie’s hazel eyes were alight.
“I see you’ve been learning Mandarin.” Angie grinned. “Look what I got you!” She held out the bracelet. Rosie burst into excited chatter, taking it from her hands.
“Yay thank you!”
“Yes, we started teaching them Mandarin and French last year,” Mia added, grinning.
Rosie offered up a greeting in a foreign language, hands on her hips and chest puffed. “That means ‘hi, Auntie Angie’ in French!”
“I love it. I don’t speak French, but you sound perfect.” Angie glanced at Mia, who stood with her arms loosely folded over her chest. She held her full figure rigid, keeping an eagle eye on her daughter. “And Nick is French? Like, French-French?”
“French-Canadian. He’s from Montréal,” Mia replied. “I’ve been with him eleven years and you never knew?”
“Nope.” Angie pursed her lips. Why did that still surprise Mia? Angie didn’t care for the man–outside of him treating her sister well.
