Page 64 of Take It Till You Make It
Mom, whose eyes have been droopy since before Crispin arrived, thanks him for his gift and says goodnight.
Crispin looks concerned as he watches her disappear down our short hall. “It’s still so early. I hope I haven’t chased her away. Made her uncomfortable.”
He has no clue what he’s done for her tonight. And I’m feeling too fragile to explain it, so I shake my head. “Nothing like that.” I glance out the slider toward the ocean. “But, we finished early enough that we can grab those last two root beers and head across the street to see the sunset.”
An evil laugh escapes Crispin. “Ah ha! My diabolical plan has worked.”
“I knew it. You just want me for my beach proximity.”
His smile isn’t what I expect when I hand him the last plate to dry. Instead of being the evil villain smirk, he has a soft expression that I can’t interpret.
“Thanks for your help,” I say. “Why don’t you grab those sodas, and I’ll get a blanket.”
“Thanks for dinner. It was really good.”
I snort.
“It was!” He calls after me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I could only finda beach towel for us to sit on, so we’re snuggled up a little closer than I anticipated as we watch the sun slowly sink into the ocean. But his body heat keeps me warm from the cool evening wind blowing off the water.
“Do you do this every day?” Crispin’s gaze tracks a seagull flying parallel over the breaking surf. “I would do this every day if I lived here.”
I study his profile. His expression is so relaxed, yet intensely taking in each moment of the sunset. “You’re really into sunsets. Didn’t you grow up here? Haven’t you experienced an unusually high amount of ocean sunsets simply from living near the ocean?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle as his lips curl upward. “It isn’t possible to ever see enough, though.”
I look out at the sunset, but I’m remembering last night’s instead. “Mom and I have been coming out here together recently. Not every day, but often.”
“She seems better.” His tone is cautious. I appreciate that he doesn’t know if the subject is safe to broach.
I nod. “She’s starting to come back to herself for sure. She’s got a lot of rebuilding to do. Physically as well as mentally, but I’m feeling good about it.”
“Is she seeing anyone? A professional?”
“No.” I sigh. “I’ve suggested that. I gave her information about a grief support group. She hasn’t done anything like that yet, but I’ll keep suggesting it.”
When I glance at Crispin, his features are hard somehow. “Mental health is no joke. When I was fifteen, I battled social anxiety and severe depression. It took me a couple of years to dig my way back out.” He squints at the view, but I can tell he’s remembering himself during that time. “And it’s always something I’ll have to watch out for.”
I’m shocked. Remembering the first time I saw Crispin. Him doing that complicated handshake with Terrell, the security guard. Standing in the doorway, propping it open with his body like he owned the place. That kind of confidence doesn’t seem to fit inside a person who battles anxiety and depression. “Wow, Crispin. I didn’t know.”
A humorless laugh escapes him. “Well, that’s the idea. Can’t let it get out to the adoring fans that I’m not perfect. That’s one of the things that captivated me about you from the start.”
I blink. “That I’m not perfect?” I’m sure the side-eye I’m giving him shows my dubious opinion of this subject.
“No.” He laughs and waves a hand. “That T fan-boyed over you and offered his condolences practically in the same sentence. And when I looked up your site and saw your emotional post about your dad and all the outpouring of sympathy and how much you so obviously valued that – it was like seeing someone be accepted for who they are. No matter their circumstances. I was so impressed that you cultivated that sort of relationship with your following.”
I shrug, picking at the edge of the towel. “It’s not the same, though. That’s because they feel sorry for me.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s because you opened up to them about your life, and they empathize. They relate. You’re a real person to them. Facing real-life issues, while also entertaining them.” He rests his arms on his bent knees and leans forward with a sigh. “I wish I’d been allowed to do that. I think it would have helped others going through similar things. I hope I don’t have to face that again, but if I do, I’ll handle it differently.”
I smile down at my lap because we were both thinking about the same moment in time just then. Our first meeting.
“Yeah, I could do this every day.” His tone is light; our previous conversation dismissed.
I look up and grin. In the final moments before it sinks into the ocean, the sun has put on a glorious display. The white-hot light bursting from it graduates to a buttercup yellow, which becomes a yellow so pure it hurts to look at. That bleeds into a rusty yellow to a burnt orange with a band of pink at the edges. And the sky above that is the most stunning cornflower blue that somehow has depth and texture. I want to dip my finger in it and paint my name on the sand. “Stunning.”
