by Skye Jordan
Violet thinks about that, her brow tight, her lips twisting along with her brain. I stand and kiss her head. “Good night, honey.”
Before I turn off the light, she says, “Gia’s parents travel all the time.”
My shoulders sink. This conversation is clearly not over. So I sit back down on her bed.
“Her dad is in the army, and they’ve lived all over the world. She has an older brother and a little brother, and their dad used to go away for work, and he was gone a long time, and their family didn’t like it. So now they go with him wherever he travels. Her mom homeschools them when they aren’t in a town where there are good schools. Gia says they love it.” She pauses, meets my gaze deliberately, and asks, “Why can’t we go with Kat when she travels?”
I smile and stroke Violet’s hair. “She travels in a tiny boat out in the ocean where there’s nothing for miles.”
“Not always. She told me her favorite way to sail is along the coastline. That way, if she sees something interesting, she can investigate to see if she wants to stay awhile.”
“Do you two talk about sailing a lot?”
“Not anymore. Since you two don’t like each other anymore, it’s hard to get her to talk about it, but when she does, you can tell she loves it. She gets happy.”
“Which is exactly why she should go.”
“I don’t understand why we can’t go too.” Violet’s frustrated with me. I’m clearly not explaining things to her satisfaction, which usually means I’m underestimating her ability to understand a topic. “That catamaran she showed us was big.”
I laugh. “Maybe to someone your size.”
“It had room for everyone. Poppy and Jazz and I could even have our own bedrooms.”
“Sweetie, this house isn’t free, and I have a job. I can’t exactly work out on the ocean where there are no people or even work when we’re moving from place to place. Employers want to know you’re going to come in every day. That can’t happen when you’re sailing the way Kat does. I also think it’s important to mention the fact that we weren’t invited to stay permanently, only to visit.” I fluff her covers. “Now, come on, get to sleep.”
“Kat doesn’t need a job. She saved her money, and now she doesn’t have to work.”
I stand and sigh. “We can’t all be independently wealthy.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I heard you talking to Aunt Jackie, and I know you have a lot of money saved from when we sold our house in San Diego.”
Man, I forget how much they hear and see. Nothing like a heart-to-heart with your kid to see yourself in a different light. “That’s called a college fund.”
She crosses her arms with a frown and a pmph, then mutters, “I think it’s called an excuse.”
I laugh. She’s certainly picked up Kat’s quick retorts. I turn off her light.
“What would you do if you weren’t afraid?” she asks.
I recognize the question as one Jana used to ask the kids all the time. I always loved the way it tore down mental roadblocks for the girls. Now, my eleven-year-old is turning the question on me. “Honey, I’m tired, and I still have to clean up. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
I close her door halfway and head down to the kitchen. “I think that’s called an excuse,” I say smiling. “Smartass.”
But what continues to play over and over in my mind is “I don’t understand why we can’t go too.”
That isn’t something that even came into the realm of possibility in all this chaos, nor should it be. Not only don’t I sail, I don’t travel. Jana and I never had the money, or the kids were too little, or I was at a new job, or she got cancer. There was always an excuse.
But when I think about the possibility, that glimmer reappears, the one that sparkled to life when Kat suggested the idea on a smaller scale, and it’s begging me to come closer for a better look.
Only, that’s not what Kat offered. She didn’t say come away with me, she said come visit me, two very different ideas. The former holding one hell of a lot more responsibility and commitment. And Kat isn’t big on commitment.
With my hands braced against the quartz countertop of the ten-foot-long island, I stare blankly into the family room. “What would I do if I weren’t afraid?”
My mind drifts back to the night Jana died. I held her hand and cried while she told me what a good husband and father and friend I’d always been. How she had no doubt the girls would flourish in my care. How this chapter of my life with her was ending, but that a new one was just beginning for me. She wanted me to grab hold of life with one hand and the girls with the other and live like I was living for her too.
“What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?” The question seems simple on the surface, but it’s not at all. There are levels of fear. Waves and surges. I think through my feelings for Kat and all the fears entangled in those emotions.
I’m afraid I’m not enough for Kat. I’m afraid my feelings for her are blinding me to where I really need to focus, and I’m afraid of being naïve and foolish. I’m afraid she’ll find a man she wants more than she wants me. I’m afraid of losing her after I’ve invested myself, heart, body, and soul, and I’m afraid of letting the girls get in deep with her, only to lose another woman they love.
“Jesus Christ.” I straighten and rub my face with both hands. I have so many fears, it’s shocking I can function at all.
I have some serious soul searching to do, because it’s clear fear has been running my life for the last four years, and I have no fucking idea what I’d do if I wasn’t afraid.
21
KT
Warm air brushes my skin and joy pulses through my veins as I take in the last sail and secure it before trolling toward the dock and positioning the boat in her slip.
Hayward Croft, the boat’s owner, comes out of the marina’s office and approaches the slip, smiling. I toss him a line, and he ties it off as I work on another. He’s American, but hops between several different countries, where he has a home in each. He’s probably in his sixties, and he’s fit, definitely still fit enough to sail this boat.
“She sure looks good out there,” he says, straightening. “Nice to see her in such capable hands.”
“She’s easy to run.” And damn fun too.
I start to clean up, but Croft waves me off. “The guys will do that. Take a walk with me.”
Two dockhands stand by as I step off the boat and wander down the dock by Croft’s side.
“So, what do you think?” he asks. “I’d sure love her to go to someone like you. She deserves a loving, experienced owner who will get her out of the slip regularly.”
I smile. “She won’t see a slip very often.”
When we reach the office, we both slide into seats at a table on the patio with an umbrella. We compare notes on various locations we’ve sailed, and I talk about my background and my future plans.
“That’s ambitious,” he says. “Who’s sailing with you?”
“No one. Just me.”
“Oh.” He’s taken aback. “That’s a lonely endeavor.”
I expected him to say unsafe, not lonely. I can’t ever remember being lonely at sea before, but when I sailed alone, it was between gigs on ships packed with thousands of people, so, yeah, I savored the isolation.
“I won’t be alone for long periods unless I’m crossing. I have friends everywhere. I’ll be making lots of stops.”
He nods. “That’s good to hear. Over the years, I’ve discovered that the joy of sailing comes from the shared experiences with people who matter.”
That thought is way too deep to ponder now, so I push it away. “Be honest with me. Why are you selling her at such a reduced price? I know my boats, and I know she’s worth at least fifty grand more than you’re asking. I can fix anything, so if there’s something wrong with her, it won’t deter me from buying, but I’d like to know what it is.”
He chuckles. “There’s not a thing wrong with her. I bought her bra
nd-new and have had professional mechanics keep her up. They baby her, to be honest. The truth is I was recently diagnosed with colon cancer.”
My stomach drops. “Oh, jeez. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
He nods. “Thanks. It’s stage four, and I’ve been to doctors all over the world, but even the most expensive doctors can’t change the cells in your body or how they work. I’ve come to terms with it—as much as anyone can—and I’ve rearranged my priorities, as dying people often do.
“It might be cliché, but I want to get my affairs in order so that when I pass, my family won’t be burdened with things like selling boats and houses and cars. And as much as I love that girl, I love my family more, and unfortunately, two of my daughters get severely motion sick, so I end up sailing alone.”
My mind flits to Violet, Poppy, and Jazz, and I wonder if they get motion sick. But that doesn’t matter now. “My father did that for me before he died, so I can tell you from experience that they will benefit greatly from your efforts.”
He nods and looks wistfully out to sea. “I want to spend the time I have left with my family.”
“Understandable.”
“When I heard about you,” he says, “I wanted to create an offer you couldn’t refuse, because I really want to see this sailboat on the ocean.”
We talk a little about my family, which, of course, is a short conversation. I look out at the boat again, and I can’t deny the excitement that surfaces. This is a lifelong dream coming true. I know I’ve worked my ass off for it, planned and planned and planned some more to make it happen, but it still feels surreal.
A catamaran appears in the distance, and a different kind of longing stirs right beside the first. I manage to keep up the small talk with Croft as the cat anchors offshore in the stunningly blue waters of the Pacific. There are at least half a dozen people on the deck, several of them kids. They time their jump from the deck into the ocean so they all go in together.
That could have been Ben and me with the girls.
“Sweet,” Croft says, also watching the cat. “That’s what it’s all about, right there. Sure, you have to work to get there, but then you should slow down and savor all you’ve built.” After sitting in companionable silence, watching the family climb back onto the boat to jump in again, Croft says, “Well, little lady, I’m getting tired. Time for my siesta.”
“Of course.”
I stand, and he gets to his feet slowly. With my gaze on the family in the cat, I bite the inside of my lip to keep me in the here and now. I offered that life to Ben, and he rejected it. I can’t change his choices.
“I love your girl,” I tell him. “I can get you a cashier’s check for the deposit tomorrow and the rest of the money after I work things out with the bank. No more than two days.”
“Sounds great. Are you sailing her home?”
That’s an exciting idea, but it will take too long, and I have a lot of work to get done. “I don’t have the time right now. If it’s okay with you and the marina, I’d like to leave her here for the next four or five months.”
“I’m sure that will be fine. They’ll take good care of her, and the slip rent is dirt cheap.”
I smile. “My favorite kind.”
22
KT
I deplane with anxiety down to the roots of my hair. Did I make the right decision? I know there’s no going back on it now, but I still feel the need to toil over it in my mind.
The Santa Barbara airport is small, and I make my way to the exit quickly enough. I’m glad Chloe will be picking me up. I’m going to need a real pep talk on the way home.
I’m deep in my head as I exit the security checkpoint and follow the flow of pedestrian traffic toward baggage and the curbside pickup where Chloe will be waiting. My heart is all tied up in my chest, and tears sting the bridge of my nose.
I need to talk myself down. These emotions are unreasonable. This isn’t life or death. I shouldn’t feel like I’m on the edge of an abyss.
“Kat.”
The name skims through my head, familiar yet not. With my brain pinging all over the place, my heart rate climbs. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Ben—
“Kat.”
This time, I glance toward the man speaking, and it’s Ben. My feet stop. I’m disoriented. Fear strikes my heart.
Before I can get words out, he puts up both hands and says, “Everyone is fine. I’m just here to pick you up instead of Chloe.”
My breath whooshes from my chest, and I press a hand to the discomfort. “Oh my God, you scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” He’s wearing jeans, cross-trainers, and a faded UCSD School of Medicine hoodie. His hair is mussed, and he hasn’t shaved in a few days. He looks fucking delicious. “I was hoping we could talk.”
My shoulders relax, but my stomach tightens. I don’t have my words figured out yet. I don’t even have my heart figured out yet. But he’s here. That has to be a good sign, right? “Yeah. That would be good. I could use a beer.”
He smiles. “Me too.”
As we move to a bar down the corridor, he asks, “How was Guatemala?”
“Hot. How are things here?”
“Crazy.”
We’re both smiling as we take seats at the bar. I still have no idea what I’m going to say, but just being with him uncoils a few knots.
“I forgot your luggage,” he says, standing. “Go ahead and order, I’ll get it.”
I laugh. “Sit down.” I slide my backpack off and drop it at my feet, wrapping one of the straps around my foot so no one can come along and snatch it when I’m not looking. “This is my luggage.”
He makes a face. “How could you possibly have been away for five days with nothing but your backpack?”
“When you travel a lot and live in tiny spaces, you learn to pare down to what’s really important.”
He sits back down, his expression growing serious. “Yeah, about that. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I mean, a lot. I think I might have ground some gears down to the nub.”
I smile and nod. I’m pretty sure I’ve done the same.
The bartender delivers our beers, but neither of us drinks.
“I want to apologize for the way I acted the last time we talked,” he said. “I really don’t have any excuse. I was immature and petty and jealous and I’m really ashamed of myself. I guess, some part of me has been expecting you to realize what a high-maintenance mess I am from day one. The more real your idea became, the more invested I was. And the more invested I was, the more afraid I got. It was like a self-tightening noose.”
His confession touches me, and I reach for his hand, curling both of mine around it. “I didn’t go the extra mile to make you feel any better, and we both know I suck at this relationship thing.”
“Actually, I think you did go the extra mile. I just wasn’t hearing you.” He leans forward and cups my face in his free hand. The emotion in his eyes pries my heart wide open, and it’s terrifying as hell, but I force myself not to retreat into my shell. “I’ve missed you.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I press my lips together to hold them back. “I’ve been pretty miserable too.”
He leans closer and guides me into a kiss. A sweet, heartfelt, connecting kiss that pulls a thousand pounds off my chest.
“I know I put a lot of pressure on you to feel the same way I do,” he says, “but I won’t do it again. We’ll take things at your speed, okay?”
My world rights, and I nod. “I’m still trying to figure it all out.” I run my fingers through the hair at his temple. “How are the girls?”
“Fine. Poppy and Jazz keep asking where you are, and Violet’s been lecturing me about messing things up with you.”
I laugh.
“Tell me about the boat,” he says. “How was it?”
That complicated dreamy feeling spills through me, and I roll my eyes. “Gorgeous. Just freaking gorgeous. And such a great deal.”
He nods, but I ca
n tell he’s working to stay positive. “When are you bringing her home?”
“Yeah, about that,” I say, repeating his words before clearing my throat and diving in. “I decided not to buy her.”
His face drops. “What? Why not?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking too, and I realized there will always be boats available, good deals will always pop up, and the world isn’t going anywhere. It’ll all still be there when the time is right for me to travel.” I have to take a big breath to get the next part out. “But you and the girls won’t be, and I want to be with you more than I want to see the few places I haven’t seen yet.”
“I… What… Wow.”
I laugh, and my chest relaxes. “Eloquent, Dr. Latham.”
“I’m…truly speechless.” He shakes his head. “What are you going to do?”
I kiss him and rest my forehead against his as the rest of the stress finally evaporates. “I’m going to talk to Laiyla and Levi about staying on as an employee after the sale. Or maybe I’ll keep my part of the investment for the time being. All I want is to be with you and the girls. There’s a lot less joy in sailing the world when you can’t share the experience with the people you love most.”
He searches my eyes with a kind of love I’ve never seen before. And I’m grateful when he doesn’t ask me to expand on that expression of love I just admitted to, one that includes him. I’m still not quite ready to delve that deeply yet. But he kisses me, long and sweet, and I know he understands.
When he pulls back, he’s got a quirky little smile on his lips. “The girls and I did something while you were gone.”
“Uh-oh.” I laugh and pick up my beer. “That sounds like trouble to me.”
“You can blame Violet. She’s the one who started the whole thing.”
After a long drink, I say, “That girl’s pretty imaginative.”
“For sure.”
“What did you do?”
“We kinda went for a test run on the catamaran Jaime showed us in Santa Barbara.”