by Natasha Boyd
“But that’s ludicrous. You could grab a girl and just go to the courthouse. Getting married doesn’t mean it has to be a big old Charleston wedding. If it was me, I’d have a captain perform the wedding on a boat, a mile off shore. That way, you can be sure only people who really want to be there would make the effort. To be honest it seems like there might be something else at play .”
“Well, he didn’t say I couldn’t do a simple wedding. He didn’t say anything at all about that. Only that it had to be a real relationship and I’d have to provide proof to the lawyer .”
“Proof?” Gwen wrinkles her nose with a laugh. “What, like soiled linens? The wet spot? A virginal sacrifice ?”
“Christ, I hope not. I’m thinking like love letters, photos, that kind of thing. Maybe friends vouching for the relationship? I’ll find out more .”
And then, all of a sudden I don’t want to do this with anyone else. The thought of any one of the girls I know, or any one of the Charleston women I’d met since the funeral, being my wife, makes me feel ill. Physically ill. My stomach cramps with dread. Or is it nerves? I haven’t prepared this at all. Up until this moment it had been but a fleeting possibility. But, I throw out every argument in my head about why asking Gwen is a bad idea .
I’m dead serious and sweating bullets. “Will you marry me, Gwen ?”
She stiffens and then tosses the towel onto a pile of waxy tarps, her green eyes catching a shaft of sunlight. “Um, what ?”
My palms sweat and I rub them down my khaki pants I’d worn in an attempt to be formal for the meeting this morning. My mouth is dry. “I know I have no right to ask, what with Derek and everything .”
“Derek?” She looks thoroughly confused .
Shit. I knew I’d forgotten his name .
“What about Derek ?”
Thank Christ, I got his name right. “Look, I’m not sure how serious you guys are, or when his deployment ends, but I haven’t seen you date anyone else recently so I assumed maybe you were waiting on him. And if you are, that’s cool. Just thought I’d ask. Just in case .”
Gwen is staring at me, her mouth hanging open, her green eyes wide. Her eyes are my favorite feature on her, I can always find a temperature gauge for any situation; amusement, comfort, honesty, or daring. They’re like my mood compass. Right now might be the first time I haven’t been able to read them in twenty years. It makes me feel unmoored. But at least she isn’t laughing at me .
“Look.” I exhale. “I need a wife. And not someone who’s going to make things complicated by trying to seduce me and get pregnant as fast as possible. And frankly someone who I don’t want to seduce .”
Her green eyes narrow .
“Wait, that sounded wrong,” I amend quickly. “But you know what I mean. Someone I don’t want to sleep with .”
“Right. Naturally, that would be me.” She slips an escaped ringlet of blonde hair behind her ear where it had stuck against her glistening cheek .
“Naturally.” I shift my weight and slip my hands into my pockets. “So ?”
“I have no idea what to say .”
“I’ve shocked you .”
She chews her lip, her face unreadable .
“There’s no animated movie line for this?” I smile grimly .
“I can’t even get my thoughts together enough to wonder if there is. But yeah, I doubt it.” She leans down and swipes up the towel she dropped earlier. “How about: Most everyone’s mad here. ” She cleans the planer and hangs it upon a wall hook. Then she walks back to the boat and rubs the wood with the cloth to clean off the wood dust and shavings .
“Alice in Wonderland,” I guess .
Her hand is shaking. I’ve really, really shocked her this time .
“Okay, run this past me again? For some reason known only to your dead grandfather you need a wife and you think I’d like to leap at the chance?” She puts her hands on her hips and faces me. “Ooooh, wait! A chance to join the Montgomery clan and deal with your cold fish grandmother.” She lets out a chuckle that borders on a deranged cackle. “Oh my God, she’d freak out! Can you imagine? Her precious Montgomery grandson marrying a scrappy little nobody from the docks .”
“She has another precious Montgomery to worry about now. Trystan is back. So the heat might be off you and me .”
“You’re making it sound more and more enticing,” she says, sarcasm oozing .
“And you’re not a scrappy little nobody,” I tack on, albeit a bit late .
“This is so messed up.” She folds her arms. “I need a damn drink .”
“Now that’s a good idea .”
She laughs, but not in my face .
That’s a start .
And she hasn’t said no yet .
“And the answer is no .”
“What? We’re not going for a drink ?”
“No, I won’t marry you .”
“Gracie—”
“Let me go get cleaned up. Stay out here and inspect my handiwork. I’ll be quick as I can.” She all but sprints into the office .
Shit.
6
Gwen
I closed myself in the tiny bathroom behind the office. The space was a six-foot by eight-foot box clad in stark white tiles with grout I struggled to keep clean. It contained a showerhead and drain, toilet, and porcelain sink with rust stains that were at least fifty years old. I took a quick glance into the aged rectangular mirror. My green eyes were bright with shock. There was too much to process, I felt like a deer in the headlights. I had to think fast about how to react or I was going to be hit at sixty miles an hour and go through a windshield .
Hurriedly stripping down, I stepped under the spray to rinse off the sweat of working on the boat. The water pressure was like opening a fire hydrant, and I winced as it stung and battered my skin. I always promised myself that one day, I’d install one of those large dinner plate sized shower heads to distribute the velocity. Maybe upgrade the sink too while I was at it. But I’d been promising myself that for at least ten years, and now I wondered why I should bother since the boat shop would all be gone as soon as we’d finished this last boat. I tilted my head back, letting the water beat up my scalp for a moment, then I quickly shampooed, soaped up, and rinsed. Any longer under this shower head, and I’d look like I’d gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson .
I toweled off and dug out a Ziploc I kept in my purse, containing spare underwear, a spare toothbrush and a rolled up peasant blouse , just in case I ever had a one-night stand. I was morbidly fearful of showing up at work in the same clothes as the day before. Sylvie was like a bloodhound for gossip. I also kept a bag in the safe in the office and three spare tops in the locker next to the work overalls .
What it really boiled down to was rather than a healthy sex-life or hope for one I was actually always running from here to the next place, or work to here, and Rhys Thomas Boatworks had filled every nook and cranny of my life since I was born .
It had broken my dad’s heart when I told him I didn’t want to study boat building at a technical college. I’d informed him I wanted to study marketing and business administration at a real university, and you’d have thought I’d told him I was secretly murdering people and hiding the bodies. Not even the fact I’d gone to College of Charleston so I could stay close to him and been the recipient of a partial merit scholarship to help with tuition had thawed him any on that score .
I stuffed the Ziploc back in my purse, deciding instead to use the clothes I stored here. Wrapping the towel back around me, I opened the door and stepped out into the office in a swirl of steam, my eyes on the lockers, and darted across the industrial carpet. My damp feet picked up wood dust because it had been two months since I’d last vacuumed for my dad. I had to use two hands to wrench open the metal door, so I tucked my towel together firmly, braced a bare foot on the adjoining locker and pulled hard on the door, almost losing my balance .
“Can I help?” Beau’s deep voice came from the desk area
behind me .
“Shit,” I yelped in surprise, lost my balance, and as my hands lost their grip, the force of my pushing leg tipped me backward. I felt the towel pop free of my breasts and slither to the floor just as two strong arms caught me .
The next few moments were a frantic scramble as Beau almost dropped me, presumably in shock at my nakedness. Or because I was still slippery and wet from the shower and trying to jack-knife away from him while reaching for my towel at the same time .
“Argh! What are you doing in here?” I yelled, wrapping myself back in the towel .
He let go and moved away quickly .
My cheeks felt like they were on fire. Luckily, I didn’t blush very visibly .
Beau was already with his back to me, against the desk, one hand still covering his eyes, which was now pointless since he was turned away .
“I was waiting for you,” he huffed, annoyed. “Obviously.” His shoulders were bunched and tense beneath the stretch of his navy tee. His tanned neck was tinged pink like he’d spent the day fishing. Beau did flush easily. Always had .
Of course he was waiting for me. I’d just assumed he was still out on the shop floor where he always stayed. He couldn’t leave a bare hull alone. I thought as soon as I’d abandoned sanding to go get ready, he’d have picked it up and kept at it like he always did. He liked to keep his hands busy. They were always doing something. It was lucky he hadn’t turned out to be a smoker .
“Never known a woman who could shower so fast,” he grated out. “I just thought I’d wait in here and check my emails.” He waved his phone that was in one hand .
I abandoned the spare clothes and backed up into the bathroom. “You can turn around now,” I said and closed the door .
Mortified.
In all the many, many years I’d been friends with Beau Montgomery, we’d never seen each other naked .
Not that I hadn’t imagined it, of course. It would be hard not to. Especially as I got older and couldn’t help but notice how women, and men for that matter, watched him .
The man was stunning. Not that he was aware of it. He was the perfect mix of cultured and disheveled. Rigid and devil-may-care. He could dampen and comb his hair, but that cowlick over his brow would spring up in defiance. He could act like he was a lazy slouch, but his constant thrumming energy would always be expended working with his hands, handling heavy equipment that sculpted his muscles and tendons. He could act serious, or mad, or sorry, but his eyes would always sparkle with mischief and boyish naiveté. There wasn’t a vain bone in his body. It had been a while since we’d even seen each other in swimsuits out on the water, but every now and again he’d strip his shirt off while working on a boat, and I’d have to concentrate hard not to let my eyes linger lest I gave myself away. I closed my eyes and replayed the moment my towel got loose, and my memory heard his sharp inhalation .
I swallowed with a thick throat and finished pulling my clothes on. Not for the first time, I wondered where we’d be now if I hadn’t been oblivious to his sixteen-year-old boy crush .
Who was I kidding? I knew where we’d be. We wouldn’t be in each other’s lives at all. It would have been all flash, bang, and smoking, but unidentifiable remains .
I combed my wet hair and braided it so it would dry smoothly .
And even if our relationship somehow survived teenage angst and hormones, it wouldn’t have survived Isabel Montgomery .
His grandmother, Mrs. Montgomery didn’t like me. I almost laughed out loud right now, thinking of how she’d react to Beau’s harebrained proposal. She certainly wouldn’t stand for a marriage .
I was in another, separate part of Beau Montgomery’s world that she tolerated though ignored. A parallel universe he’d visited when he wasn’t at his cotillions and country club lunches .
I’d once made the mistake in my senior year of filling in for a friend who had a special events catering gig at a golf club in West Ashley and had to come face to face with Beau and his fellow classmates from Porter Gaud School celebrating one of their birthdays. To his credit, Beau really didn’t hang out much with that crowd toward the end of high school except when he had to. My ill-fated foray into the service industry being one of those times. His friends had turned their noses up in distaste when he acknowledged knowing me, and I hated that I may have embarrassed him. But he’d found me as soon as dinner was over, and it didn’t take long for him to persuade me to ditch work so we could break into the driving range and compete for who had the longest drive while we got drunk on the contents of his monogrammed silver hip flask. It was the last time I ever waited tables at a country club. It also cemented our friendship .
“How long are you going to be exactly?” His voice called from the office. “That beer’s calling my name, and it’s beginning to sound pissed .”
I shook away the memories. His grandmother had forbade us seeing each other for the rest of the school year that year. It hadn’t lasted long. “Hold your horses.” I did a light coat of mascara and a slick of lip gloss. It was so easy to hang out with Beau because it never occurred to me to care what I looked like. But suddenly, I felt unsure. What did marriage material look like? I stared at my reflection and wondered if Sylvie was right that I should make more of an effort. My makeup for work consisted of tinted moisturizer to even my complexion, heavier eye make up than I liked, and the same nude lip gloss I always wore. Screw it, why was I overthinking this? It was Beau. At least the pale green of my peasant top made my eyes stand out .
I stuffed everything back into my purse and hung up the towel to dry and pulled open the door. Beau was at the desk with his hands over his eyes again. “Is it safe?” he asked .
“Dork. Yes, it’s safe .”
He lowered his hand and leaned forward, his biceps filling out his shirt sleeves, tanned forearms resting on the metal desk top. “So I told you my news, what’s yours ?”
I snorted a laugh. “I can’t remember,” I lied. “I think your news was the doozie to end all doozies. How can anyone think of anything else ?”
He shrugged and bit his lip. “Yeah .”
I couldn’t help the way my heart warmed to blazing at the sight of my friend. Everything in my life seemed to be changing all at once, and I wanted it to stay just the same. I couldn’t marry this man. It would slowly break me knowing he didn’t love me romantically, and I’d forgone my chance for happiness with anyone else. “It’s not going to be me, Beau,” I said quickly, going with my gut before my stupid heart convinced me to make the biggest mistake of my life. “But I’ll help you if I can .”
His smile wavered, and he swallowed thickly and nodded. “I—I just can’t imagine what this new future looks like. I don’t want to marry some stranger. I guess I just always wanted everything to stay the same .”
“Get out of my head.” I smiled ruefully. I wanted Beau to remain my dearest friend, my safe zone, the pillar of stability and reliability in mine and my dad’s lives. Beau, who was about to get married. I couldn’t deny panic was starting to take up residence inside me. I felt off-kilter. Jeez I was getting choked up. I was sad I might lose my best friend. Actually there was no might about it. It was probably inevitable. Already his panic proposal tonight had shifted everything off base. If he married someone else, where would that leave me ?
“Are you all right? Are you going to get over me seeing you naked?” he teased .
I blinked, snapping out of my funk. “What? Oh yes. Wait, how much did you see ?”
He chuckled and sunburn pink climbed up his throat again. “Let’s just say, I know you’re a healthy C-cup, though I’d always suspected. But now I know the color of your nipples and that you are extremely thorough with the razor .”
My heart thumped like a stone into my stomach sending out a ripple of heat that seared the air from my lungs. “Wax,” I wheezed .
“What?”
I cleared my throat and went for a bored tone. “I don’t shave, I wax. No razors involved .”
“Oh.”
I replayed my words and felt further mortification. Why had I told him that exactly? “So anyway, I am over it. Shall we go ?”
Beau remained seated behind the desk .
“Beau?”
“Yeah, need a minute. Really, it’s fine. Just um …”
Was he still checking his emails? He wasn’t even holding his phone. His hands were clasped in front of him .
“I’m not over it apparently.” He pursed his lips and looked pained, embarrassed and apologetic all at once. “Not quite .”
“Oh.” I swallowed. “Ohhhhhhh. Right.” I turned and burst out the office door. “I’ll wait for you outside,” I called over my shoulder .
I fast-walked past the boat, skirting a few pieces of machinery and aimed for the door where there was air. Beau needed a minute? I damn well needed a minute. Did he just admit that seeing me naked gave him a stiffy? So maybe I wasn’t his sexless best friend after all .
Okay. I didn’t know what to do with that. Not in light of everything he’d just told me .
How long did an unexpected erection last anyway? I’d gone back in the bathroom to get changed after all. Or maybe it was the talk of nipples and Brazilian waxing that sent him over the edge. That must be it. Not me, at all. More of a concept. I burst into the outside and dragged in a lungful of sea air, then blew it out on a long breath and blinked in the setting sun .
7
Beau
A lice’s Bar is not quite crowded yet with the mid-week crowd, so we can find two spots at the bar. I nod to Euan who’s pulling a pint. He sees me and his eyes slide past me to Gwen, and he grins wider. He arrived last summer on vacation from England with his family and totally overstayed his welcome. By overstayed, I mean it’s eight months later and he still hasn’t gone home. We all know he’s underpaid and lives on cash tips, but he’s entertaining and brings in lots of girls. They can’t get enough of his accent .