by Sierra Hill
When we reach the other side, our bodies mere inches apart, we turn to face each other. I blink the water out of my eyes, lifting my gaze to drink in his beautiful blue eyes, which now narrow down at me.
His tone is abrupt, almost accusatory, and his statement is a delayed reaction of sorts. “My sister used to be a swimmer too.”
I gulp, holding onto my breath wondering if he’s finally put it together and realizes who I am. And if not, now would be as good of a time as any to tell him.
Miles squints at me with wordless assessment, cocking his head side-to-side, as if trying to figure me out.
And then he goes and says it. And I want to drop my head in shame.
“You seem so familiar to me. Have we ever. . .?”
“No,” I raise my gaze back to his face again, ardently shaking my head. “Never.”
Technically, that’s the truth. We haven’t done what I think he’s referring to. No matter how many times in my teenage dreams we had, we’ve never been intimate or had sex. And I choose not to count the kiss we shared the day of Mel’s funeral.
At least, not in the way he’s suggesting.
Lord knows, if we had sex back then, I would be pretty pissed off right now if he didn’t remember me. It’s bad enough that my face doesn’t even ignite a spark of recognition with him. But if we had gotten down and dirty, and he’d seen me naked, and not remember me? Ouch, that would sting.
Miles nods, his narrowed eyes still scan my face for some trace of recognition. I’m obviously not very memorable, which honestly hurts more than I care to admit. But maybe it’s a saving grace, keeping me from the hot humiliation that boils over in my belly.
Although he can’t figure me out and continues to stare, I have to admit, it feels fantastic to have his attention on me. And I should tell him. Right now. Right this very instant, I should open my mouth and tell him about my friendship with Mel, and our shared past together. Say to him that he’s not crazy and that I seem familiar because I am familiar to him. That we kissed before—the most perfect kiss in the world—even if it happened on one of the worst days of our lives.
But someone must have poured glue over my tongue. Because as I search for the words to tell him, they clump together and get stuck in my throat.
And then, without preamble, he shrugs and says, “Come on. I’ll race you.”
I’m thoroughly confused by this change of events as he looks back to me over his shoulder, giving me a wink and with an expression that says, “You scared?” and I glare at him.
“You’re on.”
We both set our feet to the wall, hanging on with tight grips of our fingers, ready to push off at the go.
“On your mark. . .” he says, and it shoots a thrill down my spine. I haven’t raced for years, and it brings back so many cherished memories.
Memories of all the good times with Mel and me on the swim team. The two of us at competitions, of summers at the public pool, and of the man that now waits to show off his competitive side. A man who was once just a nineteen-year-old lifeguard that I crushed on for years.
“Get set. . . go!”
Let’s face it. There really is no competition in this race because Miles is a foot taller than me, has arms that sweep long and overhead, giving him a distinct advantage as he eats up the distance, leaving me in his wake. But none of that matters in the grand scheme of things, because even though I swim and kick as fast as I can, I won’t be able to make up the distance between us.
The most I can do is just watch, panting after him over the way his lean arms, and powerful legs carry him along, until he reaches his destination in record time.
The guilt floats along with me over my lie of omission. It’s heavy, and the weight tugs on me like an anchor, weighing me down with a drowning sensation. I’ve never lied to anyone before, not even my parents. It tastes bitter, and I want to cough it out like chlorine water before it chokes me. And I realize if I don’t do something soon to dislodge it, to expel that lie, it will most certainly drown me.
When I finally make it to the end, I find Miles already hanging against the pool’s edge, his elbows hooked behind him to partially exposing his torso, and he wears an arrogant grin. It’s smug and victoriously gloating.
Before I can stop myself, I dip my palm into the water and retract my arm, arcing it forward to splash him.
He laughs with a sputtering noise, swiping his palm over his face to dispel the water.
“You are such a stuck-up big shot, aren’t you?” I snark.
He pushes himself up over the edge and grabs his towel from the chair, running it over his wet hair before wrapping it around his waist. Miles tips his head toward me before heading into the locker room door.
“I never said I was anything else,” he replies, shrugging a shoulder in my direction. “And you might want to get some practice in for next time I see you. Later, Sutton.”
I’m about to say something before he leaves, desperate to keep this exchange going. Wanting to open up and talk about swimming, and Mel and life before she died.
But it’s pointless. It would serve little purpose but to expose me as a liar, humiliate me, and drudge up the past Miles is obviously trying hard to forget. Memories and a past from a small seaside town that only holds harsh memories and bitter ends.
The finality of friendships, family, and a young life gone too soon.
I’m not dumb enough to unearth old wounds when I’m trying to forge something new with Miles.
Because maybe this is fate reuniting us. And whether or not Miles knows it, perhaps there’s something positive to be gained out of this reunion.
8
Miles
Graham calls me on Friday morning to see how things are going, particularly with the new client from San Francisco that I just bagged last week. I’m barely off the subway and heading into the office building when I take the call.
“Good morning, G-man,” I answer, smiling to the woman walking next to me and gesturing for her to go in front me as I hold the door open. She smiles, checking me out with an appreciative glance, as I return the favor. My eyes remain glued to the sway in her hips down the corridor toward the elevators.
When a woman smiles at me seductively, nine times out of ten, I will use that to my advantage and act. Like get her number and text her later to hookup. But I’m not feeling my typical flirtatious self today after yesterday’s weird encounter with Sutton in the pool.
Hooking up with anyone else holds no appeal to me this morning as I head up to my office, Graham talking in my ear about trades and profitability, but my mind only on the woman staying in his apartment.
“Hey, I received those documents you sent over about the new client. I reviewed, signed, and returned them to you last night. They should be in your inbox this morning. Impressive job, Miles. Another big account that will help grow our portfolio. I’m proud of you, man.”
It’s rare you hear praise from the top dog in this cutthroat business, but Graham is a fucking outstanding leader. He built this business from the ground up and continues to make it flourish. I believe that is because of the talent he possesses, along with the people he hires. He also doles out praise on the regular, but this particular compliment has me strutting like a peacock because I’ve worked my ass off to bring in the business. It also feels nice being recognized not only as a top producer in his business but also as his friend.
“Thanks, G. I appreciate that. I’m just heading into my office now and will have Monica print out the docs and have them filed. How’s your vacation? Are you getting much relaxation time?”
There’s a soft huff across the line. “I wish. We’re on the go every fucking day. Soraya and Chloe are constantly wanting to be everywhere at once, checking out every historical site, cathedral, and museum ever built. Thank God we left Paris behind us. We just arrived in the south of France where we’ll be for the next five days. Tomorrow, we’re heading out on a sailboat, and we’ll just relax onboard and enjoy the oc
ean and sun’s rays.”
I sigh wistfully. “Fuck, man, don’t rub it in. That sounds spectacular, and if anyone deserves it, you do.”
“Thanks, bro. You know the only reason I’m able to take this much time off is that I’m confident you’re keeping things running smoothly. And you’re the only one I’m checking in with, not because you need it, but so I have another dude to talk to.”
I laugh into the phone, my assistant’s head snapping up to give me an arch of her eyebrow as I head into my office. “One too many females ruling the roost for you?”
This garners a groan out of Graham, who is vacationing with both his partner and his daughter. Knowing what I do of Soraya, she doesn’t let Graham get away with shit. I think that’s why they’re such a great match. In fact, I witnessed the two getting into quite the explosive argument one day in the office before they even began dating. And holy cow, anyone who saw those two go at it knew there would be fireworks in their relationship.
“You have no idea, man. Thankfully, Chloe is still young and compliant, and Soraya is writing her Ask Ida column remotely. She writes a few hours a day, which gives Chloe and me time to hang out together. It works out pretty nicely. Anyway, I should probably get going unless there’s anything else to discuss?”
I hear the underlying plea in Graham’s voice. He needs something to keep him busy and occupy his mind. Typical Graham. He’s been that way from day one.
Hedging just a moment, I ask the question that’s been on my mind since first encountering Sutton the night of the fire. She just seems so damn familiar, yet I can’t place her or figure it out, and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
“Well, I wanted to ask you one thing about Sutton.”
“Our dogsitter?” he asks dubiously. “Okay, what about her?”
“It’s nothing bad, man. Calm down.”
Placing my bag on my desk, opening the flap, and extracting my laptop one-handed, I try to decide how best to bring this up without raising suspicions. Graham will give me holy hell if he gets even an inkling I’m interested in Sutton.
Am I? I shake off the thought. While I’m slowly starting to warm up to Sutton and her sweet klutziness, something happens when I’m around her that has me recalling the strangest memories. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s her youth. I’d say she’s roughly the age Mel would be. And Sutton has a youthful quality—innocent in a way and cute as a button.
Something clicks in my head. Sutton. Button.
Nah, no way is she the same little girl I’d given the nickname to a long time ago. If she were, she would’ve said something by now.
Graham’s voice splinters through the odd thought.
“Is everything okay at home and with Blackie?”
“Yeah, man. Everything is fine. It’s just that your dog sitter seems very familiar to me, and I’ve been trying to place her. Has she worked in the office for you in the past, maybe as an intern or something?”
There’s a pause and then a hiss. “Ah, fuck. You didn’t sleep with her, did you?”
I’ve just taken a sip of coffee that Monica, my assistant, left for me on the edge of the desk and nearly spit it out.
“What? No. She’s far too young for me. Why would you even say that?”
Graham gives a mocking snort. “I know you, Miles. Young or not, Sutton is a pretty girl, and you have had an assortment of young women since I’ve known you. I’m sure you’ve been more than neighborly and made her feel very welcomed.”
He’s definitely got it wrong there. I’ve done just the opposite with Sutton, for some inexplicable reason. I don’t know what it is about her, but it’s like she can see inside my blackened heart and knows who I am.
“Bro, you have it wrong. I was just curious if I’ve met her before.”
“Don’t know what to tell you. I’d never met her before Ben introduced us and we interviewed her for the job. You could always go ask him.”
I absently scrub a hand through my hair, still a bit damp from my shower this morning, and consider his advice. It shouldn’t matter at this point, and I should just let it go, but maybe a conversation with Ben would do me good. I have a few business-related matters I need to talk with Ben about, anyhow.
“Yeah, sure. Maybe I’ll do that. I’ll let you go, G-man. Enjoy the south of France, you prick. And don’t worry about a thing here. Just relax and have fun.”
Graham snickers and says goodbye, hanging up, leaving me with the thoughts of Sutton still swirling in my head. I’m a busy man with a shit ton of work to be done. My schedule is packed tight over the next few weeks while Graham is still out of town, and I don’t have time to go traipsing around inquiring about the sexy petsitter next door.
Determined to put it out of my mind, I check my calendar and see that I have a meeting scheduled in ten minutes. I open my inbox to follow up on the email Graham sent and decide to forget about Sutton. For now, at least.
There are other priorities in my life that I need to handle, including Melodie’s upcoming birthday this weekend and managing things with Granny.
9
Sutton
Saturdays are busy at the boutique. I’ve been working part time for Luciana, Lucy for short, the past two years, and although I’m not the only store employee, I think she’s come to rely on me as one of her best staff members.
I’m the most reliable, at the very least. Which is why I open the store every Saturday and manage the inventory for her once a month on a Sunday evening. Which is scheduled for this weekend.
“Did you find something that worked for you?” I prod the customer who has been in the dressing room for over fifteen minutes trying on several outfits I put together for her.
I hear a rustling of clothing coming from the small dressing room and spy a stash of garments hanging over the top, as I wait patiently for her to finalize her decision.
While I wouldn’t consider myself a fashionista in any sense of the word, I enjoy helping others find clothing that flatters and makes them feel good about themselves.
After a few more minutes, the woman opens the door, arms loaded with a pile of clothes and hair in disarray. But she looks more happy than disgusted, which is always a good sign that I did my job well.
“You were so right. This purple blouse fits so nicely, and the color does look good on me.” The woman beams with gratitude as she hands me the items to ring up.
I smile back at her. “I’m so glad you liked it. The color is a bit loud on the hanger, but I knew it would look great with your complexion.”
Walking over to the front register, I place the items on the counter. “Is there anything else you need today? We have a great selection of accessories and shoes if you want to complete the outfits.”
I tap my chin with my index finger and lift my eyebrow with an idea. “In fact, we just got in some new hoop earrings that would look fantastic with that dress.”
Rounding the corner, I spin the rotating display and find the pair of earrings I have in mind, and then hand them to her while pointing to the mirror above the display. She cocks her head in consideration for a moment before she holds them to her ear in front of the mirror to see what they look like. She smiles and nods.
“You’re so good at this. You should get a raise,” she remarks candidly, which has me chuckling as I take the earrings and ring up her purchases.
Since Lucy is across the shop, rearranging some displays, I make sure my voice is loud enough for her to hear.
“Did you hear that, Lucy? I should earn more money.”
A dainty laugh comes from the back as the customer looks at me inquisitively.
Nodding toward Lucy, who has a price gun in her hand, I say, “That’s my boss. She owns the shop.”
Lucy gives an appraising glance over the woman’s purchases and grins. “Don’t give her any more credit than what’s required. I taught her everything she knows.”
We all laugh, the way insiders laugh at a joke, and I finish ringing up the clothing, w
rap the items in tissue paper, and proudly hand her the bag of purchases with a smile.
“Thank you so much for shopping with us today. I hope you’ll come back. I added a twenty percent discount coupon in the bag if you do.”
She waves and heads out the door, leaving Lucy and me alone in the store for the first time since earlier today.
Lucy gracefully meanders over next to me behind the counter and bumps me with her shoulder.
“You know how much I appreciate the work you do for the shop, right?”
I turn to the side and wrap my arms around her slender body. While she’s about fifteen years older than me and has a family of three at home, we’ve become good friends. So much so that she’s invited me to family dinners at her home regularly. And when I haven’t been able to go home for the holidays due to work or school schedules, she’s always included me in their family celebrations.
“I know you do, and I’m so grateful for you.” I pull back and shift my hip against the counter, noticing how tired she looks today. “Are you feeling okay, Lucy?”
Her form practically slumps from a straightened posture to a weary body stance, shaking her head slowly, as if the weight of it is too heavy.
“Antonio has not been well lately and isn’t sleeping through the night. He continues to complain about his tummy hurting. And has had a bad bout of diarrhea.” She waves her palm and gives me an apologetic look over the TMI. “Juan and I have an appointment with his pediatrician next Monday.”
I reach for her hand, grasping it in mine with a show of compassion. Now I’m really worried about her young son, one of her seven-year-old twin boys, Antonio and Santiago. She also has an older daughter, Maria, who is thirteen.
“Oh, Lucy. I’m so sorry to hear about Antonio. Any time you need me, I’ll be there. I’m sure it’s nothing, probably just growing pains. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”