The Art of My Life

by Ann Lee Miller

He blew out a breath. “First Mom flattens me. Then, you reinflate my ego. Now you decimate me. I can’t believe you think I’d hug, kiss, and sleep in the same bunk with you if I was committed to someone else.” He climbed the companionway. “I need some air.”

  The boat rocked and Aly grabbed the bulkhead to steady herself. Oh, God.

  She sunk onto the bench. What in flippin’ hell had she done? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  She still loved him. That kiss had obliterated any doubt. She’d never forget what it felt like to have Cal hungry for her. If they’d kissed like that when they were teens, they’d be married now with a couple of kids. Maybe there never would have been an Evie.

  But there still might have been jail, under-employment, excess marijuana. Her IQ plummeted ten points just thinking about a relationship with Cal. There was probably some psychological reason she fell for a guy who would ultimately hurt her.

  Just as well Cal was upset.

  But part of her didn’t regret kissing him. Cal needed to know she believed in him. She wasn’t happy with Cal’s marijuana consumption either, but Starr’s criticism would completely crush Cal if someone didn’t step in. And kissing him had patched up his confidence—for a few minutes. She wasn’t sorry she’d done it.

  She sucked in air and emptied her lungs, lost in the taste of Cal. Wanting. She had no one to blame but herself.

  Her phone vibrated. A text from Cal.

  I’m sorry I got pissed. Not your fault. Let’s work it out. I want to earn back your trust.

  A coal deep inside heated red, blue, white like it had been infused with oxygen.

  Cal had wanted to kiss her since they were in high school. What if he loved her, really loved her?

  The wake from a passing speed boat hit the Escape’s hull and jostled her off balance.

  She gripped the dining table as the boat continued to bob in the diminishing swells.

  She texted. Let’s focus on the business now, r drama when the business is good.

  Cal scanned the horizon trying to spot Fish’s boat headed for the inlet—anything to take his eyes off the honeymooning couple on the bow. At three-thirty in the afternoon, it would be quitting time for Fish’s charter. The boats were too far away to recognize. He brought the Escape about and tacked toward land.

  The lovers dangled their feet over the side of the fore deck, their arms looped around each other. The wind whisked away their conversation before it reached Cal. Thank God for small favors. Every so often they kissed. The current kiss closed in on epic. Did they even notice they were sailing? He’d felt like a middle schooler taking notes behind a conjoined couple in a movie for the past two hours.

  They made him want a repeat of yesterday’s mind-blowing kiss from Aly. He glanced through the companionway at her.

  He shook his head to clear it. He had to think about something else. The business hadn’t turned around in the month Aly had been at the helm, but at least they weren’t going to lose the boat. They’d done a birthday party cruise, a school field trip which had been great PR, but no money, and a few tourist charters.

  Aly didn’t seem worried. But she only had money riding on the business. If it failed, he was out of skills to break into real life. He’d be marooned in the counterculture with his grandparents. His self-worth depended on the Escape’s success. His future depended on it. Asking Aly to marry him depended on it.

  Whoa, he was coming in hot, too close to shore. He headed into the wind to slow the Escape’s progress.

  The grainy crunch of the keel sliding across sand registered in his brain a second before the boat slid to a halt.

  Aly climbed into the cockpit. “What happened?”

  “Ran aground,” he said through clenched teeth.

  He fired up the engine and threw the boat into reverse, gunned it.

  The Escape held fast to the sand bar.

  What a boneheaded thing to do. He couldn’t even get sailing right. Had he damaged the keel?

  Aly glanced at the newlyweds who had barely taken notice of their stalled state. “What are we going to do?”

  Cal gunned the engine again.

  No movement.

  A boat wasn’t like a car you could push out by hand. Nor could the Escape be dug out. Any kid who built sandcastles could tell you sand rushed in as fast as you shoveled. “Tide’s going out. We’re screwed.”

  “How screwed?”

  “We could be here for twelve hours till the tide comes back in.”

  “What about calling the Coast Guard.”

  “They only pull you off if your life is endangered.”

  “Sea Tow?”

  “Got two hundred dollars? And who knows if they’d get here before we’re totally stuck.”

  Aly forked out her palm. “Hand me your phone.”

  Cal passed it to her.

  Aly scrolled through his contacts, hit the call button, squinted at the horizon. She jerked the phone away from her ear, and Cal recognized Fish’s trash talking.

  “It’s Aly. We ran aground. Can you pull us off on your way back to the marina? We’re on the lip of the Intercoastal, north side. Great. Thanks. See you in ten.”

  The couple moved down the deck toward the cockpit, their fingers still linked.

  Cal focused on their matching I heart Kinsey, I heart Josh T-shirts. He wiped the scowl off his face and explained what was going on.

  The guy laughed. “Whatever.” He snagged his bride’s hand and headed back to the bow.

  Sooner than Cal was ready to face him, Fish roared up, smashing his wake against the Escape’s hull, shoving the boat further onto the sandbar.

  Cal clamped his teeth down on the inside of his cheek and caught the tow rope Fish hurled at the Escape’s transom.

  He secured the line and signaled Fish.

  Zeke’s Ambition roared to life.

  Cal held his breath and watched the white water boil between the two boats. Come on.

  A second attempt.

  Cal’s stomach knotted. They would have to send the honeymooners back to shore with Fish, maybe refund their money.

  The boat budged a few inches.

  Cal circled his arm overhead, signaling Fish to keep gunning his engine.

  The Escape scraped off the sand. Floated.

  Relief sloshed in his gut. Cal loosed the towline into the water, and Fish hauled it back onto his boat.

  Cal raised a hand over the rumble of Fish’s engine. Thanks. Annoyance that Fish had rescued him doused his relief.

  Fish eyed him, turned away, and planted himself in the pilot’s seat.

  The six fishermen looked on, oblivious.

  Fish shoved his throttle to full and arced into the channel.

  Cal swung wide from the shore and aimed for Fish’s wake.

  After docking, Cal donned his wetsuit, mask, and snorkel and inspected the keel. Some scratches in the paint, but nothing serious.

  As the sun set beyond Canal Street, Cal walked Aly down the dock toward her car. A trickle of water from his hair snaked under his sweatshirt collar. He shivered and dug his hands into his pockets. He’d need to scrub the hull clean this week or he’d be looking at barnacles and a premature trip to dry dock.

  “Aly, hold up.” Fish bounded off his boat. “Give me your phone.”

  Aly pulled it from her pocket and gave it to him.

  He punched in a number. “For next time.”

  “Thanks.”

  Cal swallowed his pride. “I appreciate your hauling us off today. I owe you.”

  “Got that right. But I did it for Aly.”

  “Whatever. Thanks.” Cal nudged her with his elbow to keep walking. At this moment he hated Fish with the intensity that he’d loved him the day Fish vomited a gallon of Aqua Park chlorinated water after being pulled from the bottom of the pool when they were ten.

  Fish of all people knew he loved Aly. If Fish stole Aly, he’d get what he wanted—the end of their friendship. Forever.

  Aly glanced at him as t
hey neared her Honda. “You don’t need to look so disgusted. We made money today. Fish towed us for free. The keel is intact.”

  “There’s only one thing that will salvage this day.” He backed her up against the driver’s door, pinning her with his hips.

  Aly’s eyes widened.

  He lowered his mouth to hers. His lips found hers. Desire oozed tonic onto every annoyance of the day.

  Her hands settled on his waist.

  The tentative touch flashed the chill from his body, and his hands left the cool metal of her car and cupped her shoulders. He needed her.

  Fish’s truck rumbled past, and Aly shoved Cal away with her palms on his chest. “Is this all about Fish and your little man-war?” Her eyes spit fire. “He humiliated you by pulling you off the sandbar, now you stake your claim on the girl?”

  “It crossed my mind.” Cal arched his brows. “But Fish is gone now.” He leaned in.

  Aly straight-armed him. Her eyes searched his. “I wanted to talk to you about” —she dropped her arm— “touching, kissing.” She met his gaze. “Something changed between us the night I spent on the Escape.”

  “Nothing changed for me. I feel the same way I’ve always felt about you.”

  “Well, I feel… confused. I know you used to touch me to make me feel cared about, that you valued my friendship. But… this is more.”

  She looked down at her hands, then over his shoulder at the Hummer behind him. “I finally have my dream of owning a business. I need to concentrate on it. I don’t want to freak out about our relationship every day.” Aly bit her lip. “You’ve always been my friend. I want to hang onto that. Anything more….”

  Hope sloshed out the bottom of her words like a fist-sized hole in a bailing bucket. Whether she’d been mistaken when she thought she loved him or he’d killed her love by sleeping with Evie, the end result was the same. She didn’t want more than friendship with him.

  “Like I said in my text, let’s focus on the business right now. First things first,” she said.

  Cal squeezed her arms. He gazed into her eyes, willing her to believe him. “You. Will. Never. Lose. My. Friendship.” Or my love.

  Aly sniffed. “Thanks. Same here.”

  Cal kissed her temple. “I—we’ll talk about it another time.”

  Aly gave him a small smile. “Okay, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She got into her car and drove away.

  Sadness hung in the twilight. Was it all his, or had Aly left some of hers, too? He’d almost told her he loved her. But he would have to put the words on hold, too. He was back in the same place with Aly that he’d been for years. No, that wasn’t right. Now he was worse off.

  He’d keep her request. As much as he hated to admit it, a cease kissing edict was probably for the best. How many kisses like yesterday’s could they survive without having sex? And Aly needed him to prove he loved more than her body. He’d used Evie and felt all kinds of guilt about it. He’d only feel worse about Aly because the other guys had used her and not loved her. He’d love her and not use her. He’d stake his life trying.

  Chapter 13

  November 18

  Simplicity or complexity, which is preferred in art or life? I just chose simplicity, and now I desperately want complexity. What’s your take?

  Aly at www.The-Art-Of-My-Life.blogspot.com

  Fish braked at Washington Street, the image of Cal kissing Aly stuck in his head. Even pissed at Cal, part of him wanted to shout and clap Cal on the back. About time. Cal had loved Aly forever.

  Cal bought his hitting on Aly. There had only been honesty between them before this. Remorse gurgled in his throat and he swallowed. Revenge didn’t taste as sweet as he’d expected.

  If Cal and Aly were getting together, marriage and a family would be next.

  The light turned green.

  He shuddered, glad it wasn’t his turn to get in line for life. Between his family and Cal, he was zero and six—people he loved who betrayed or abandoned him. Re-upping wasn’t something he wanted to do anytime soon.

  He’d apply to Barry Law. Law school was all the life he’d have time for anyway. Other than upping his commute time traveling to Orlando, his master’s schedule probably wouldn’t change much from undergrad—working seven to three, classes crammed into Tuesdays and Thursdays and evenings. Homework, eating, showering, doing his laundry pretty much took up the rest of his time. Whenever he hit an unexpected pocket of time, he grabbed his board and hit the waves. Not a bad life. Doable.

  But he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have a woman in his life who really knew him. Casual had worn itself out a long time ago. Someone to do life with.

  He glanced out the side window and realized he’d turned down Missy’s street. The downstairs windows and Missy’s bedroom window glowed with light. Something in his chest tugged him to turn into the Koomers’ drive.

  He resisted.

  He hadn’t seen Missy in three weeks, since the fish fry. Yeah, he wanted to change her mind about going out with him. But she’d needled him again to forgive his family. He acknowledged the necessity. But doing it was something else. Missy had always pushed him to do the right thing. But he didn’t need her barreling down on him like an oncoming semi, blinding him, laying bare things he wanted kept in the dark.

  But every night since Missy had excavated his memories of her fifteenth birthday, he’d fallen asleep thinking about making out with her. He pulled into Daytona State College’s student lot, parked, and killed the engine. If it were only that easy to turn off her presence in his head.

  He’d see Missy on Thursday at Thanksgiving. Maybe he should just collect the kiss that had been taunting him.

  He glanced at the passenger seat where she’d sat.

  Yeah, and maybe he should invest in some swamp land in Oak Hill while he was at it.

  Aly climbed up the companionway steps toward a cockpit doused orange with sunset. Another day with no business. Her purse and laptop thumped against her thigh. Go home, put in a load of laundry, throw together a salad for dinner…. What could they do to make money?

  Cal stood at the bottom waiting to follow her through the hatch.

  She’d expected today to be awkward after calling a halt to kissing last night. But sharing space with Cal all day had been warm and comfortable—bumping into him, exchanging bits of conversation, hearing him breathe and move around the cabin. Maybe it was easy for them to revert to their old friendship because it had always been so comfortable.

  She glanced back and caught Cal’s gaze lasered to the seat of her jeans. He met her eyes and shrugged as if to say, It was there. I looked. No big deal.

  She hurried up the last step, her mind hurtling back into his kiss, into his wanting her. Her pulse sped. Her breaths shortened. No, nothing between them would ever be the way it used to be.

  As Cal stepped through the hatch, Fish leapt off his boat. “The shrimp are running!” He sprang onto and off a dock box, zigzagged around the dock like the Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs bird. “The shrimp are running!”

  Aly laughed.

  Fish locked eyes with Cal, then he darted for the gate. “Shrimp, glorious shrimp!”

  Cal gazed after him. “We’ve done a dozen shrimp runs together. Our fathers bought all of us kids lifetime fishing licenses before we even went to school.”

  “How long are you two going to fight?”

  Cal shrugged, and Fish careened back toward them.

  “Where?” Cal shouted to Fish.

  Fish’s face swung around toward him. His jaw clenched. He stared hard at Cal. “Between Rattlesnake Island and the mouth of the Intercoastal.” Fish turned his back, vaulted back onto his boat and disappeared inside.

  “We’re going. We’ll be up all night. Run home and get warm clothes, buckets.”

  “What’s the fishing limit?”

  “Five gallons of shrimp.”

  She plunked down on the cockpit bench and opened her laptop. “I’m going to find out wher
e I can grab a fishing license.” While her laptop booted up, she called Missy. “The shrimp are running. Come fish with us…. Seven…. Great.” She minimized The-Art-Of-My-Life.blogspot.com, typed Florida fishing license into the Google search window, and looked up at Cal. “Who else has a license?”

  “Dad, Leaf, Henna.”

  “Call them.”

  Cal wrinkled his forehead at her.

  “Thirty gallons of shrimp. Income. Even after everybody has all they can eat tonight, we should have plenty left to sell at the Farmer’s Market in the morning.”

  Cal grinned. “I love your brain.”

  Her body went still, and warmth prickled across her chest.

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and walked toward the bow. “Dad, the shrimp are running!”

  Two hours later, Aly and Missy stood in the galley cleaning shrimp. A pot of water boiled on the stove, steaming up the cabin. Footsteps sounded on the deck as the others dipped their nets into the water where the spotlight illuminated hundreds of the mini sea creatures.

  Missy pinched the head from a shrimp, peeled off its soft shell and legs, and pushed it across the cutting board to Aly. “So, why haven’t you dated anyone since Garner Fritz?”

  “It’s better that way. I don’t have your self-control.” Aly sliced a knife down the back and frowned at the dark vein she dug out. “I’ve always admired that about you. Wished I made your choices.”

  Missy’s expression darkened, then cleared so quickly she must have imagined it. “Don’t be too impressed.” Missy shot her a wry smile. “After my eighteenth birthday I came this close” —she held her thumb a fraction of an inch from the knife blade— “to going over to Fish’s apartment, standing at the foot of his bed, and stripping down naked to see if he’d notice I’d grown up.”

  Aly laughed. “So, has he noticed?”

  “Yeah, he’s noticed.”

  “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

  Missy’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t want his kisses. I want his heart.” She blew the hair out of her face and chopped off another shrimp head. “I’m moving to Peru when I graduate. Fish’s folks always need teachers at the orphanage. I’ve got to get away if I’m ever going to get over him.” She eyed Aly. “Anything going on with you and Cal? I want you for a sister.”