So young to be on his own. “Did you work, or go to college, or what?”
“Worked. Modeling.”
The sea breeze felt fantastic as I ran my eyes over Miles’s androgynous beauty. “I’m not surprised you’re a model. You’re gorgeous.”
Miles shrugged, seemingly unimpressed with his own gorgeousness. “It was boring as fuck. I got out of there after a while. It’s not like modeling’s my life’s ambition or anything.”
“What is?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ve been bumming around since I left New York.”
“Well, you’re still young. You have time to figure it out. What are you—twenty?”
Miles seemed insulted. “No! I’m twenty-two.”
“Oh. Sorry. I’m an old fart of almost thirty, so you’re a mere child to me.”
Miles rolled his eyes, then made an impatient movement. “Forget about me. Let’s talk about you. Tell me what you do.”
“I’m a creative director for an ad agency.”
“Cool! What does that mean? What do you do every day?”
The keen interest coming from Miles the Lovely flattered me. I forgot to angst over Walter as I launched into my usual song and dance about the wonders of the advertising world, telling all my funniest stories until Miles was doubled over laughing.
“Miles.” Walter barked out his name, and we both started. He was even grimmer than before, if that was possible. “Get the equipment ready.”
I’d been so wrapped up in my conversation I hadn’t even noticed that we’d stopped. Wow. What a beautiful scene. We were bobbing gently on turquoise-blue water, sunlight making sparkly diamonds on the surface.
“Oo, snorkeling time! Later, Anthony.” Miles’s voice was a caress as he touched my knee and hauled himself to his feet. “See you at dinner.” He managed to make those words sound like he was promising me a date, or his body, or…. I shook it off.
Jonathan and Marco moved near, Marco with a pair of fins that he handed to me. “Here you go, my good man.”
“Thanks, handsome.”
Walter lurked in the background as Miles gathered up masks and snorkels and started distributing them, giving me a flirtatious wink along with the equipment. We donned our snorkeling gear and put on the safety vests.
“I can’t wait to get into the water and see the reef,” Sophia said. “I’m still sad I didn’t get to go the last time.”
“You deserve your snorkeling, dollface.” I hugged her, laughing as our life vests bumped.
Marco, Jonny, and I had gone snorkeling on the cruise, but Sophia had sprained her ankle the night before. That had led her into a nice affair, though, with Melanie, the cruise ship’s doctor.
“Have you heard from Melanie, by the way?” I asked her. “She could cure you of the breakup blues.”
“She’s in the middle of the ocean somewhere.”
“Dive in and find her, babe!”
“Okay.” Walter’s brusque voice snapped us out of our merriment. “All of you have snorkeled before?”
“I haven’t,” Sophia said.
Walter moved to her side. “You’re… Sophia, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, Sophia, here’s what you want to do. Put your mask over your eyes and nose. Make sure it’s sealed so water doesn’t get in.” Walter helped Sophia adjust her mask. “That should work. You’ll be able to test it when you’re in the water. Now insert your mouthpiece. Good. You’ll be breathing through your mouth with the end of the snorkel sticking up into the air.”
“Insert it, babe,” I joked.
“Hey, stop giving sorellina ideas,” warned Marco.
Sophia waved her hand at us, mouth full of mouthpiece.
Walter ignored our revelry, paying close attention to his student. “It may feel awkward at first to breathe through your mouth underwater, but you’ll get used to it quickly.” He stood patiently as Sophia fiddled with her mask and snorkel, then surveyed the rest of us. “Good. You’re all wearing T-shirts. You don’t want that sun beating down on your back—especially Jonathan and Anthony.”
Hearing Walter say my name for the first time in years hit me like a blow that all too quickly melted into warmth. I would have been a good candidate for Stockholm Syndrome—you know, falling in love with your kidnapper—because despite the pain he’d caused me, I could have stood there forever having Walter instruct us in his precise and thorough way. But it was time to jump into the ocean and try to snap myself out of this Walter haze I’d fallen prey to.
Jonathan and Marco had already lowered themselves into the sea. Walter gave a hand to Sophia, helping her jump in. That left me alone with him, Miles having gone below to start on dinner.
When Walter turned his serious brown eyes on me, I panicked, then swung into full default-Anthony mode, hiding my discomfort behind mindless chatter and flirtatious inanities.
“Oo, I love your manners, doll. Helping our Sophia jump into the big blue ocean! Is it my turn? Do I get a helping hand?”
Walter froze for a moment, his own mouth turning down. Then he stuck out his hand for me to take hold of, his expression stoic and sad. I was suddenly ashamed I’d made him look that way. And that pissed me off no end. He was the one who should be ashamed, damn it.
I’d always loved Walter’s hands. Large and square, they made my bony ones with the long, skinny fingers seem positively dainty. As his hand swallowed mine, enclosing it in its rough warmth, I was torn by two equal but opposing impulses—to mindlessly melt into Walter’s strength, or to scream and tear my hand away as though he had the power to burn me. Instead I giggled, a trifle hysterically.
“Thank you, hon!” Desperate to get away, I let go, stuck my mouthpiece in, and clambered clumsily up and over the side, falling into the ocean with a mortifying splash and promptly getting water up my nose.
Chapter THREE
“HERE’S TO another fucking day in paradise!” Marco held up his champagne in a toast.
“Hear, hear,” Sophia said as we raised our glasses.
“Paradise looks good on you, tesoro.” Jonathan had been practicing his Italian. He and Marco gave each other heart eyes and leaned in to kiss.
“They’re the sweetest.” Sophia smiled and ruffled my hair, which was drying stiff from the salt water. I was going to have to condition the hell out of it later.
“They are!”
All my sour grapes at Jonny and Marco’s love had disappeared. I caught Miles’s eye as he poured more champagne. These fizzy grapes were yummy, and so was their pourer. I grinned at Miles, feeling the bubbly warm me from inside as the sunset painted the sky in brilliant reds and pinks. We’d just finished an excellent dinner, and I was filled with well-being.
Snorkeling had calmed me right down. Seeing those beautiful little fish doing their thing had delighted my artist’s eye and pulled my brain into a beatific place. The underwater world was an awesome arena, full of color and grace, and the fact that Walter Elkins had somehow put himself into the middle of all of this gorgeousness made me feel better for some reason. Or maybe it was the champagne.
I turned around and spied him lurking by the wheel. On impulse, I waved him over. “Walter! Come join us!”
Miles laughed. “He won’t. He’s all business.” His mouth dropped open when Walter walked to the table. “Er. What can I get you, Walter? Champagne?”
Walter fixed him with a look. “Something nonalcoholic for the captain, please.”
“Oh sure, sure. I’ve got some sparkling cider. Be right back.” Miles whisked away, moving quickly as though he wasn’t sure Walter wouldn’t change his mind by the time Miles returned.
I was speechless for once, now that Walter had pulled up a chair beside me and was sitting with us, emanating a calm confidence.
Sophia beamed at him. “Walter, thank you so much. This has been a magical day.”
Marco nodded. “Beautiful reef. On par with Grand Cayman, although nothing can beat my memories of that particular sn
orkeling trip.” He put his hand on the wave pendant he wore and smiled at Jonny, who wore a matching one. They’d gotten them in Grand Cayman after our snorkeling there. Did I mention that the story of Marco and Jonny could be a Disney romance?
“The reef is not to be missed.” Walter turned to me and said, “How did you like it?”
“Me?” I squeaked stupidly, taken aback at him singling me out. His lips quirked into an almost-smile, and my Pavlov’s dog wagged its tail. Walter was almost smiling at me! “Doll, this was sublime! I was just thinking how brilliant you are to have plunked yourself in Key West. And to own all these businesses—so impressive!”
Walter shrugged, but his smile deepened. “It beats Boston in the winter.”
“Tell me about it. Every winter I vow I’m not going to live in Boston one more year! But how on earth did you get here? The last I knew you were being a scientist in Boston and inventing wonder drugs.”
“You knew that?”
“Oh.” My cheeks grew warm. “Well, I kind of… you know, stalked you online. When you dropped out of my life. Thank God for the internet, right?” I raised my chin in challenge. Walter wasn’t going to cow me about keeping tabs on him, not when he was the reason I’d had to resort to stalking.
“I… I was kind of an idiot back then. About a lot of things.” His eyes seemed to be beseeching me to understand him, when I hadn’t the faintest clue what was going on in that head of his.
Also, why the hell was Walter having this particular conversation with me in the middle of our cruise, as the sun dropped below the horizon and my cousin and friends were watching, champagne glasses in hands and quizzical expressions on their faces? Couldn’t he have waited to talk to me in private? More to the point, this conversation was one I’d have been ecstatic to have with him twelve years ago. But now? Not so much.
Probably picking up on my unease, Sophia interjected, “I can see why people scuba dive now. To swim among those schools of fish would be amazing.” Sophia turned to Marco. “Okay, fratello, this does it. Count me in on the scuba diving.”
“Excellent!” Marco ruffled her hair. “You’re going to love it. I promise.”
“No!” I cried, dismay lacing my relief that the conversation had moved on. “You were gonna hang out with me, cara! Now you’re deserting me for a wetsuit?”
“You can always join us, Antonio,” Marco said, arching one of his Cary Grant-esque eyebrows.
Jonathan shook his head slightly at Marco, then gazed anxiously at me.
“No.” Walter’s voice mingled with mine as we both said the word at the same time.
I reared back and gaped at him. “What?”
“No,” Walter repeated grimly. “Anthony is not scuba diving.”
“Why not?” I demanded, rather hotly. Lord knows, I had no desire to sink beneath the ocean, but Walter’s declaration irked me. What gave him the right to decide? Let me be clear: I had come on this vacation with no plans to learn to dive. Ever. So what followed was a good example of how Walter made me crazier and more irrational than I usually was.
Miles had emerged from below by this time, a bottle of sparkling cider in his hand. “What’s going on? We still celebrating?”
“Your boss just told me I can’t learn to scuba dive.” I pouted, and when I saw Walter’s eyes dart to my mouth, I pushed my lower lip out even further. My lips were one of my best features, so hey, why not?
Miles furrowed his brow. “Really? You can’t? Why?”
“Oh, I’m sure I can.” I waved airily. “I’d pick it up as fast as my cuz here, no question. But apparently I’m not allowed to learn. According to Mr. Elkins here.” Jonathan kept giving me would-be meaningful looks and slight shakes of his head, but I ignored him.
“Um, that’s weird.” Miles poured Walter a glass of cider.
Walter had reverted to his usual scowl. “Anthony said he didn’t want to.”
“Well, I say a lot of things! Doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind.”
“Yeah, if he wants to now, that’s cool, right?” Miles stood next to me, dropping a hand casually on my shoulder.
Walter stared at it, his lips in a grim line, then said to me, “I think you should go with your gut feeling. You said you weren’t interested. Scuba diving is dangerous. You’ve—you nearly drow—”
I cut him right off. “Excuse me, Walter, but we’re not going there.”
He shut his mouth, then gave me a small nod. “My point is,” he said in a milder voice, “you have to concentrate. If you don’t really want to learn, it’s probably not a good idea to try.”
“I can concentrate!” I tried to ignore the amused reaction from my friends and the worried one from my cousin. My ADD tendencies were legendary, and Walter’s skeptical expression told me he remembered them as well. “When it’s important enough,” I amended.
Walter didn’t seem moved by my testimony. “And the diving instructor who’s available, while good, hasn’t been teaching that long.”
“If three years means not that long,” Miles commented before stealing my champagne glass and taking a swig.
“So,” Walter plowed on, “it’s for the best if Anthony doesn’t try to learn on this trip.”
“But what about me?” Sophia asked. “I haven’t had any instruction up to now, either. Maybe I should wait too?”
Before Walter could say another word, I jumped in.
“No, doll. I’ve changed my mind. Let’s both learn! Now that I’ve seen the reef, I think we’d be crazy not to get ourselves down there. We’re gonna party with the fishes!” I looked challengingly at Walter. Take that, you control freak!
Marco clapped his hands once, like the matter was settled. “Excellent. You won’t regret it. As for how long it may take to get you and Sophia ready, we can extend our trip if we need to. We won’t rush things. That way you’ll all be confident by the time you actually dive in the ocean.” He turned to Jonny with an encouraging smile. “Right, honey?”
“Yes.” Jonathan shot me another doubtful glance. “But it’s also okay if anyone changes their mind.” Marco opened his mouth to respond, and Jonny put his finger on Marco’s lips. “No, I mean it, Marco. You and I are going diving for sure. The others can, but they don’t have to. Okay?”
Marco grabbed Jonny’s finger and kissed it. “Of course. You’re right, babe.”
“Cool!” Miles squeezed my shoulder. “But don’t change your mind. You’re gonna love it!”
Walter pushed back from the table without another word to me, saying instead to Miles, “Clear the table before you help me get ready to sail.”
As we watched him stalk away, I was overcome with terror. I’d just committed to scuba diving. Scuba. Diving. I’d almost drowned, and I still tripped over my own shoelaces—now I was going to navigate a tank and that mouth thingy while in a wetsuit and under the sea?
I glowered in Walter’s direction. This was all his fault.
Chapter FOUR
THE NEXT morning I took myself to the Daily Grind, a local coffeehouse, with my sketchbook after successfully fending off Marco’s and Jonny’s attempts to get me to come jogging. Although I prided myself on being a social butterfly, I did need some downtime—and to escape from all the insane exercising those two did. Sophia went with them like the good trouper she is.
I got an Americano and set myself up at a table in the corner, the better to eye the locals and tourists who were hanging out. Lots of colorful characters in here: beach bums with grizzled beards, a gaggle of gay guys with blindingly bright tropical shirts, a surprising number of kids and their parents—did no one go to school anymore?—and several younger women with their heads close together, appearing serious and kickass. I imagined they were working on Hillary’s campaign or something equally worthy.
After taking a fortifying sip of my coffee, I opened my sketchbook and started to draw quick impressions of the various coffeehouse patrons. I’d sketched for years, having found that drawing calmed my nerves and allowe
d me to sit in one place for more than a minute. There’d been a time when I thought I’d become a full-time artist, but I’d left that ambition behind ten years ago along with my aviator sunglasses and skull scarf.
I was putting the finishing touches on my beach-bum sketch when the door opened and Walter walked in. My God, why could I not escape him? Then again, he hadn’t seen me, so I was free to spy on him shamelessly as he walked to the counter. A chance to see Walter in his natural habitat! Much as I was determined to not be, I was affected by his presence. I hated to admit he looked fine in his swim trunks, flip-flops, and a frayed T-shirt that stretched over his broad chest. His hair was damp, as though he’d just gotten out of the shower—or maybe the ocean—and he was glowing and healthy.
“Walter!” called the barista, a short guy sporting a bandana and a hoop in his ear. “¿Qué pasa?”
“Hey, Guillermo. The usual, please.”
“No problemo.” Guillermo started concocting some drink involving the espresso machine. “Were you windsurfing this morning?”
“Yep.”
“How was it? Enough wind?”
“Yeah, enough to get by.”
A man came out from the back of the shop. He bustled around, giving orders to another barista and straightening things, so I assumed he was the manager. When he saw Walter, he brightened.
“Walter!”
“Hi, Dale.”
“I’ve been meaning to thank you for sponsoring the team again this year. They’re in seventh heaven with their new uniforms.”
“Good. I’m glad they like them.”
A few other patrons waved at Walter, and he waved back. Who was this person? Hadn’t Miles called him antisocial?
Guillermo handed Walter his drink. One of the kids, a little cutie in braids, came running up, shrieking Walter’s name, and threw her arms around Walter’s middle. He put his drink on the counter, stooped, and picked her up.
In Over Our Heads Page 4