Page 21 of The Holiday Grump
“But… if your sister promised to keep a secret, would she?” I cringed at the words.
Fredrik studied my face, trying to read between the lines. “I don’t think she’d break a promise.”
I exhaled. “I like her.”
“So what secret did you?—”
“I love staying at home, you know?” I cut in, desperate to change the subject. “I totally get that feeling of not wanting to go out and be on display. It’s draining.”
He eyed me with suspicion. “But you seem so outgoing.”
I laughed. “Maybe. But I’m also acting odd because I suddenly have all this freedom. Cruise ships are structured. You just follow the rules and the daily schedules, and you get a little institutionalized. But now I can wear my own clothes and go where I want. Being here is exhilarating!” My gaze swept across the decorated town square.
He looked baffled. “You find Hideaway Harbor exhilarating?”
We took the long way back, walking along the shops. Their facades glowed in cherry reds, sky blues, and soft pastels. It felt safe and contained, like a little universe hugging us from all sides.
“Yes. I mean, I have more freedom, but it’s still small enough not to be too scary. A bit like a cruise ship.”
“You mean, everyone knows your business and you can’t escape?”
I laughed. “Exactly. And you go a little mad and develop ship goggles.”
“Ship goggles?”
“They’re like beer goggles, but you don’t have to be drunk. You only have to be stuck together on a ship, and suddenly, those people start to look like viable… options.”
“Who did you sleep with?” He narrowed his eyes, smiling. “The captain? The pirate with a hook?”
“For your information, pirates are hot. And what happens at sea, stays at sea.” I shot him an indignant glare, thanking my lucky stars that I hadn’t slept with anyone. Looking back at the selection, I would have regretted it. Working almost nonstop probably helped in keeping me out of trouble, as well as the strict rules on alcohol consumption.
“I’m going to assume it was the 100-pound deckhand with buck teeth.” He looked happier by the minute, and I mentally high-fived myself for changing the topic.
“How do you know that’s not my type?” I asked. “Maybe I’m weak for tiny, buck-toothed men, even on dry land.”
He shook his head, and the sadness returned. “I’m quite sure your type is blond, blue-eyed, and trust-funded.”
A lump rose in my throat. Because he was describing Spencer. Did he know?
He had such beautiful eyes. Soulful eyes. Like they’d been painted with layers and layers of color, so many that you couldn’t really tell the original shade, like in an old student rental.
Once we were away from Main Street, I gathered my courage. “So… you know about my ex-fiancé? You’ve heard the stories, right?”
He stopped in front of a stationery shop called Paper Moon with glowing moons and stars decorating its window. “I don’t do gossip,” he said gruffly.
“I thought, because you said blond and trust fund…” I trailed off, suddenly feeling defensive. “That’s not why I fell for him, though! I didn’t even know he was that wealthy until later.”
“What did you like about him, then?”
His question threw me. What had I liked?
I rubbed my forehead like it was a broken genie. “He was generous…” I ran out of words. Was that the end of the list?
He’d bought expensive gifts. Thoughtful gifts. However, I had a sneaking suspicion he’d outsourced the task to his many assistants. But he’d thought I was cute and funny. Hilarious. And who didn’t like adoration? Especially a college dropout in a dead-end job.
“Generous, huh?”
“Yeah. He’d pay for everyone at dinner. He donated?—”
