He shrugged uncomfortably. How could the man who’d been so commanding and sure of himself a few hours ago now be so incredibly vulnerable? And how could I be such an ass, letting him stand there and squirm? I smiled broadly and slowly put my arms around his neck.
“I think that sounds wonderful,” I whispered, feeling the tension leave his body.
“Thank God.” His eyes came alive with renewed excitement. “Okay, come on. Let me give you a tour.”
He led me to the back of the boat and was about to help me climb aboard when he stopped and took a couple of steps farther down the dock, motioning me to join him.
“I almost forgot,” he said, pointing to the rear of the boat. “See what I named her?”
Poppet. In red letters, outlined in silver. My heart lurched, the word commitment swimming before my eyes. He’d named his boat after me!
“Wow. I’m speechless. That’s so…”
“Perfect,” he said, smiling as he held out his hand to help me aboard.
I stood in the middle of the boat, listening as Daniel pointed out the raised helm seat, the frameless side windows, the benefits of the single-level cockpit floor, and the flat panel. We went down to the cabin where he drew my attention to the lifejacket cubbyhole and the lounge seating which converted into a small sleeper berth. There were compact bathroom facilities, a galley with flip-up extension, and the stainless steel integrated hardware, whatever that meant. My head was spinning. When he started rattling on about the fuel capacity, I zoned out entirely.
At some point, he noticed the glazed look in my eyes. “Sorry, I’m boring you.”
“No, it’s just a lot to take in. I didn’t know you knew so much about boats.”
“Are you kidding me? When someone gives me a nickname, I go out of my way to own it!”
I grinned at him and crossed my arms. “Very funny, sailor.”
For the next half hour, Daniel toured me around the lake, showing me the neighboring cottages, some of which made the Grants’ cottage look modest by comparison. He sat at the helm, and I stood beside him, my hand on his shoulder as he drove. He let me steer and explained the different dials on the flat panel. As we made our way back past their cottage and rounded the small peninsula, he reclaimed the wheel and expelled a quiet whistle.
“Look.” He gestured across the lake.
The sun was beginning to set over the line of trees on the other side of the lake. It was breathtaking.
“Gosh, that is so beautiful.”
Daniel slowed the boat and shifted in his seat, pulling me to stand sideways between his legs.
“I’m so glad you appreciate things like this,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“How could I not? Look at that.” I stretched my arm around his shoulders. We both turned to watch the clouds creeping across the sky.
“I love these kinds of sunsets,” he said. “It’s as if the clouds are paintbrushes. See the way they seem to dip into the setting sun to pull out the colors and then dab them across the sky?” He lifted his hand to trace a line across the horizon. “Orange, pink, purple. It’s incredible.”
“That was a really beautiful description,” I said, leaning into him.
Daniel took my hand in his and looked at me earnestly. “I know you love mornings and sunrises, but those belong to you and your dad. Sunsets can be ours, okay?”
I swallowed hard, trying to chase away the lump that formed in my throat, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness and concern for my feelings.
He scanned the horizon once more and turned off the engine. “I think this is the perfect spot,” he said. He slipped out of his chair and led me to the cushioned bench at the side of the boat. “Sit here for a sec.”
He disappeared inside the small cabin and came back out with his guitar. I clenched my hands together excitedly.
“You brought it! You’re going to play something? Out here?”
His eyes twinkled as he smiled at me. “Yep.”
He reached into his pocket and found a guitar pick which he placed between his teeth. He fished around in his other pocket, withdrawing a piece of folded paper and handing it to me. I opened it.
“What’s this?” I looked down at the page. “Daniel, this is a Pablo Neruda poem. I love Pablo Neruda.”
He chuckled. “I know. I’ve been picking Julie’s brain. She told me he’s one of your favorites. She said you two became friends in first year working on a group project in a poetry class.”
“Julie told me once that if she could marry a poem, it would probably be one of Neruda’s. I think she also found a poem she wanted to make babies with. As soon as she said that, I knew we’d be great friends.”
“Oh, really? You can identify with wanting to procreate with pieces of literature?”
I laughed. “No, just with her sense of humor. Anyway, he’s a very passionate writer. This poem is lovely. It’s a paraphrase though—a translation. You know he didn’t actually write this?”
“Really?” Daniel looked taken aback. “No, I didn’t know that. What’s it a translation of?”
“Have you ever heard of Rabindranath Tagore?”
“Tagore? That rings a vague bell.”
“He was the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize for literature. He wrote a beautiful collection of poetry and prose called The Gardener. ‘In My Sky at Twilight’ paraphrases the thirtieth poem in the collection.”
“Huh. Well, look at that. There’s something else you’ve taught me today.” He winked. “I’ll have to look that up when we get home. Sounds like something I’d enjoy,” he said. “Right now, though, this is what you need to look at.”
He settled his guitar on his lap comfortably and tapped the loose paper with Neruda’s poem. I looked up at him expectantly.
“I, well, I put it to music for you.”
“Daniel, you didn’t!”
He chuckled. “I did. Now, go easy on me. I’m a nervous wreck. I’ve been practicing, but I have a feeling it’ll be different playing it with you sitting there.”
I covered my mouth as he took a deep breath and began to finger-pick the strings. Right away, I recognized this as the song he’d been playing this morning when I’d come across him in the great room. When he started to sing, I wasn’t sure what to watch—his lips or his fingers. Both were mesmerizing.
His voice soft and husky, and I shook my head in disbelief. What a romantic and thoughtful gesture. Plus, he’d gone to the trouble of choosing a poet I liked. His voice became stronger as he moved through the verses, his eyes closing when he reached the third verse in which the poet celebrated finally being able to call the object of his desire his own.
Then I understood.
You are mine.
That’s why he’d said those words in the middle of the night.
By the time Daniel had finished playing, my heart was full and my eyes were teary. He gave me a half-smile and rested his guitar against the door of the cabin.
“I didn’t think my singing was that bad,” he said, inviting me into his arms and rocking me gently.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re awesome. That’s the sweetest, most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.” I sniffed and rubbed my hands across my cheeks.
“It was a labor of love, believe me.”
“I understand now why you were talking in your sleep.”
“I worked on it neurotically all week, so it’s not surprising the song’s words were running through my head at all hours.” He brushed my hair out of my eyes. “Is it okay with you if I say you’re mine? I can’t wait to tell the world.”
“Of course. And I get to tell everyone you’re mine, too, right?” I asked, tightening my hands around his neck.
“You know I’m yours. All yours.”
“Daniel, does this mean we’re going together?”
His laugh echoed around the lake.
“I haven’t heard that expression in years. Going together, eh? Where do you want to go?”
“I can’t wait to walk with you everywhere at U of T, just holding your hand.” He gazed over my shoulder at the sky. “I’m not sure how things are going to work once we get home. I guess we’ll figure it out as we go along.”
“I’m not worried,” I assured him. “We did the right thing, Daniel. I’m glad we waited.”
His eyes sparkled, and he looked so happy. I tried to memorize the expression on his face, wishing I could preserve it—something to bring to mind at low moments. I don’t think I’d ever felt more at peace.
“And thank you for the song. It was beautiful.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”
I weaved my hands through his hair and kissed him the way he’d kissed me the night before—not as a prelude to sex, but as a wordless whisper aimed at your lover’s heart. Kissing because you simply can’t think of another way to show your love for the man you adore.
“See, if you’d done that to me back in February, I would have been completely snookered,” he said, his smile softening as he pulled away.
I grinned, remembering how he’d jokingly referred to kissing as his Achilles’ heel. He wrapped his arms around me, and we watched the sun slip behind the tree line, neither of us moving as the amber glow gradually faded. It was truly beautiful. But then, with the sun gone, the evening air cooled almost instantly. I shivered, dreading the return to reality. I wanted to stay here with Daniel forever. As if he could read my thoughts, he kissed my head and sighed.
“Well, poppet, I hate to do this, but we should probably head back. It’s past eight o’clock.”
“Are you talking to me or the boat? Man, this is so confusing.” I rolled my eyes playfully.
“Very funny, but at this rate we won’t be back in Toronto until eleven or so. You have to work in the morning, remember.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” I grumbled.
He looked at me pointedly. “So…quit.”
“Daniel.”
“What? I don’t see why you feel the need to torture yourself. But that’s just my opinion. Ignore me.”
“Don’t be like that,” I said, nuzzling his neck.
“I’m not being like anything,” he said, his tone softening. “I wish you’d give your notice and let me take care of you, that’s all. Maybe everyone else has left you to fend for yourself, but that doesn’t mean I plan to. Tell Armstrong to shove the damn job and take some time for yourself. When you’re ready, you can start thinking about a real job—a career—something that might actually mean something to you instead of subjecting yourself to that cow. You told me you’d let me catch you, but you’re not letting me.”
A flurry of retorts formed in my mind.
You can’t catch someone unless they actually fall.
I can take care of myself.
Stop treating me like a damsel in distress.
“Maybe Armstrong won’t be that bad.” I struggled to maintain a casual tone, reluctant to end our weekend combatively.
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I applaud your positive attitude. But spending five minutes in her company on Friday night was enough to last me a good long while. She’s a condescending, patronizing, superior bitch.”
I held my hand up to my ear, as if I were talking on the phone. “Yes, Department of Redundancy Department? I’d like to report an infraction.”
He laughed shortly. “Yes, I guess those words do all mean the same thing. But that’s my point. There aren’t enough words to describe how haughty she is.”
“Oh, so now she’s a hottie?” I said, tapping my chin contemplatively.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Haughty…H—A—U…”
“I know, I’m just—”
“You’re just avoiding talking seriously about the topic.”
He sighed, climbing back into the helm seat and restarting the engine. I moved back to join him, and he circled my waist with one arm while steering with the other, bringing the boat back around the peninsula toward the cottage.
“Okay,” he said, patting my butt. “Hold on to me. I don’t want you to get jolted or fall if the boat lists or bumps into something as I’m pulling in.”
I wrapped an arm tightly around his back, widening my stance to better my balance as he confidently steered the boat. I wasn’t jolted. I didn’t fall. And even if the boat had listed or bumped into something, I’m sure Daniel would have been there, catching me before I’d even had a chance to stumble.
“Did you check to make sure you didn’t leave anything behind?”
I nodded, pouting. The car was packed, the cottage was tidied, and all the windows were locked. I slipped my arms around his neck.
“I don’t want to leave,” I mumbled.
“I know. Neither do I.” He rubbed my back. “You had a good weekend?”
I tipped my head back to look up at him. “Um, yeah, I’d say it was very good.”
“Yes, it was.” He paused for a moment. “You know, there’s one more thing I want to do before we head out,” he said.
“Daniel, I never thought I’d say this because God knows I can’t get enough of you, but I honestly think the remaining surfaces we haven’t christened are going to have to wait till next time. The girly bits are taking a nap.”
He chuckled and clasped his hands around my waist. “I agree. Miss Velvet has every right to take a nap. She’s had a busy couple of days.”
“I’m thinking crushed velvet might be a more apt term at this point.”
He winced. “Ouch, is it that bad?”
“A little tender,” I confessed. “I think I’m the one who needs the recovery time now.”
“Then back in the saddle, as it were?” he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
“Absolutely.”
“Well, that’s good news. But I wasn’t actually suggesting we take a turn on the kitchen table. I wanted to give you something.”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small blue box.
“I’d almost convinced myself not to do this now—especially after our talk on the boat. I thought maybe we’d expended too many words on this subject already, but I’ve decided I don’t care. I’m going to do it anyway. See, there is one very important word, something that’s been sorely lacking in your life for the last year or so, and I’d like to discuss it a little more.”
He passed me the box and then put his hands in his pockets.
“Daniel, what is this?”
I looked at the box. Swarovski Crystal. What had he done? My mind raced with the possibilities. There was a word associated with this gift? One word? What word?
He shrugged and smiled. “I can only imagine what you’re thinking. Don’t freak out. It’s just a little something. Go on. Open it.”
I took a deep breath and cracked the box open. Whatever I’d expected, it wasn’t what I found. Nestled in the blue satin lining was a key chain—the most beautiful key chain I’d ever seen. It was heart-shaped and studded with crystals and blue gems.
“Those are blue topaz,” he said.
I nodded, watching the jewels sparkle as I moved the pendant in my hand. “This is, wow, really lovely. But I don’t—”
“I figured you’d need somewhere to put these.” He produced two keys and rested them on my palm, then closed my fingers around them. “One is the outer door to my condo building and the other is for my apartment. You’re welcome to come over any time. You can let yourself in. You don’t even have to call first, unless you want me to mess things up a bit before you arrive.” He smiled gently.
My chin trembled. “Thank you, Daniel. I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell me you’ll use the key ring. And promise me you’ll only put these two keys on it.”
“Of course I’ll use it,” I assured him. “It’s beautiful.” I threw my arms around his neck, and he hugged me close. “Why can
’t I put other keys on it?” I whispered.
He released me, gazing at me tenderly.
“Well, you can, but please don’t put your residence keys on it.”
“Why not?”
He opened my hand and turned the jewel-encrusted heart over. On the back, one word was engraved:
Home.
Fin
Acknowledgments
What a joy it has been to share the continuing story of Sailor and Poppet. Thank you to everyone who has cheered me on throughout the second part of this journey. My humble thanks go out to the readers who pass on recommendations to friends and take the time to write reviews on Goodreads or Amazon. I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to the bloggers who work tirelessly to spread the word about the books they love. Word of mouth is so important. Your impact is inestimable.
To Elizabeth and the Omnific team, I’m so grateful for your incredible efforts and hard work. To the editorial team, the art department, and everyone working behind the scenes—thank you.
Enn, amazing publicist and wonderful friend, thank you for everything you do. I love your “balls to the wall” attitude, but I know so much of your work is done quietly and without fanfare. Thank you—truly.
To my fellow authors, it’s wonderful to be a part of a team where everyone is so supportive of each other’s efforts. I feel blessed to have such lovely and generous people in my corner.
I must thank the loyal friends who stuck with me as I made the decision to publish. I’ve realized a lifelong dream, and having you there to encourage me and cheer me on along the way has made the experience all that much sweeter.
And to my husband—my partner in all things large and small—thank you for your unconditional love and support.
~GG
About the Author
Georgina Guthrie has been a self-professed book hugger for as long as she can remember. An avid reader and compulsive diarist, she is thrilled to be taking the leap into the world of publishing. GG resides in Toronto, Canada, but she still considers herself a Brit through and through and can often be found roaming the aisles of her favorite British import shop.
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