“Do you even know how to kayak?” the companion I didn’t even consider asks.
“I don’t think it’s all that complicated, Ryder,” I retort. “You just paddle along.”
“Have you ever been in a boat that wasn’t being steered by someone else?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” I haven’t.
“Right. Because experience never matters.”
“Not in a glorified rowboat. I’m perfectly capable of paddling!”
Mike opens his mouth, glances at Ryder, and closes it again. I’m guessing Tommy is probably regretting inviting the rest of us along. I doubt this is the romantic ocean outing he imagined for himself and Eliza.
“Let’s get the boats out,” Tommy suggests. “Then we can figure out… logistics.”
The boys disappear inside the small shed again.
“Do you want to go with Tommy?” Eliza offers. “I can—”
“No, not necessary,” I interrupt. “I’m fine going by myself. Really. If I get lost at sea, hopefully I’ll just drown and won’t have to listen to Ryder say, ‘I told you so.’”
Paige rolls her eyes. “Yeah. That’s definitely the best-case scenario.”
Ryder, Tommy, and Mike reappear, each pulling a brightly colored kayak behind them. A bit of my bravado wavers as I study the boats. They’re bigger than I expected. I hope the single ones are smaller.
“Should I get out one of the singles?” Tommy asks.
“No, it’s fine. Eleanor and I can go together,” Paige offers.
I raise both eyebrows, hoping she can tell under my hat and sunglasses. Either she can or she knows me well enough to sense my uncertainty. “I’ll actually paddle,” she promises.
“Or I’m happy to go with you,” Mike offers. “I’ve kayaked plenty of times before. Mostly on a lake, but…”
“For fuck’s sake,” Ryder mutters, dragging the tandem kayak closest to us into the edge of the water. “Just get in the damn boat, Elle.”
The implication is clear. He’s planning to be my fellow passenger.
“How do I know you’re not going to capsize us?”
“Because I can paddle a boat without tipping it over?”
I scoff.
“Just trust me, Elle.”
“I do trust you,” I surprise myself—and him—by saying. “It’s the ocean I don’t trust.” But they’re unerringly similar, I realize. Both captivating, consuming, unpredictable forces. In my eyes, at least.
“I’ve seen you do crazier shit than go kayaking on a calm, quiet day,” Ryder challenges.
“Yeah. It worked out great for me,” I inform him dryly. But I climb into the kayak anyway. Ryder does the same, shoving away from the sandy shore as soon as he’s tucked his tall frame inside the plastic one of the boat.
Our companions scramble to keep up with our sudden departure.
Ryder was right. He can absolutely paddle a kayak without tipping it over. And he can do it pretty damn fast. We’re further from the shore and closer to the horizon in a shorter stretch of time than I would have thought possible.
A glance back confirms Eliza, Tommy, Paige, and Mike are following us, but that they’re also a ways behind.
“Is this a race no one told me about?” I ask pointedly.
“Nah. I’m just compensating for your lack of paddling.”
Yeah… I haven’t pulled my paddle out of the space between my legs since I climbed inside. I yank it out of the small confines, almost giving myself a bloody nose in the process. I start dipping the paddle in the water rushing by, but we’re moving at a fast enough clip I’m more hindering than helping. I can’t manage to pull it out before Ryder’s propelled us a few feet further along the water, and the brief drag of my paddle slides us back a few inches. I don’t make more than ten strokes before Ryder points my lack of progress out.
“You’re not helping.”
“I know.”
I keep paddling for another twenty feet just to make it clear I’m not giving up because he said something, and then pull the wet paddle back on board. Cold water droplets add dark spots on my shorts. The only sound is Ryder’s paddling and the splash of the waves acquiescing as the kayak is propelled through them.
“I’m surprised you came,” I tell him.
“Tommy’s my best friend.”
“Social events never seemed like your thing.” He doesn’t respond. “I guess the ones we attended together never went very well.”
I’m pretty sure Ryder mutters “understatement” under his breath, but I can’t tell for sure over the sound of the waves splashing and wind soughing.
“I went to see Kennedy Jacobs a few weeks ago.”
No response, and I turn in my seat so I can see his face. That same jaw muscle is flexing and relaxing. Yeah, he heard me.
“Not only did she tell me you weren’t the one who assaulted her, she told me Liam was the one who did.”
Still twitching, maybe a hair faster now.
“Which means not only did you go to jail for something you didn’t do; you let a rapist carry on with his life as though nothing ever happened. And I know it’s not because you were trying to protect Liam. Did he threaten you? Bribe you?”
Ryder stops paddling. It takes me a few seconds to realize that’s the equivalent of him walking away. Since we’re in a small boat and actually doing so would be physically impossible. I’m still turned toward him, so I watch as the other two red kayaks grow closer and closer to us. He thinks I won’t keep talking about this once they reach us. And he’s right. This weekend is about Eliza, not about my messy past with her fiancé’s best friend. Regardless of the fact that our past predates their own relationship.
They're not close enough to hear what we’re saying yet, though, so I press ahead.
“Kennedy told me she is the one who contacted Until Proven Guilty. You weren’t even trying to fix things. To get out.”
Ryder surprises me by actually responding. “Why did you go see her?”
“What?”
“Kennedy. Why did you go see her? After all these years?”
“A woman from Until Proven Guilty called me. Said they were working on your case. I went to try and see you. We both know how that went,” I add pointedly. Ryder doesn’t look the least bit repentant. “So, I went to see Kennedy.”
“Lily shouldn’t have called you.”
“Lily?” I catch. “You’re friends with your lawyer?”
“Who I spend time with is none of your business.”
Shock ripples through me, faster than the water churning around us. “More than friends, then.” My voice doesn’t betray any of the surprise I’m experiencing, and Ryder doesn’t respond.
“Jeez, James. I didn’t think we were ever going to catch up with you guys,” Mike comments as he and Paige paddle up beside our kayak. I spin back around so I’m facing forward again. I’m sick of looking at Ryder’s stoic expression, and tired of making sure my own isn’t betraying anything I don’t want it to.
“You good?” Paige glances over at me as the front of their kayak draws even with ours.
“Yup,” I respond, tracing some of the water droplets streaking down the side of the plastic boat.
“Whew! You guys were setting quite the pace,” Eliza comments as she and Tommy arrive on the scene. “You can barely see the beach from here.”
I twist around, being careful not to look at Ryder. Eliza’s right, the horizon behind us looks almost identical to the one before us. Only the upright frames of houses are an indication of which direction we came from.
“We should probably turn back,” Tommy adds.
Everyone agrees, and the five other people I’m with set about turning around. I don’t make any attempt to retrieve my paddle, not even pretending as though I’m a participant. I stare out at the water and think about how much I wish I’d stayed on that sunporch.
Because every time Ryder refuses to talk about our past it makes me want to dig it up eve
n more.
After lunch, I retreat to the sunporch again. No one bothers me this time. Except for Scout, who abandons the comfy living room rug in favor of curling up on the floorboards by my feet.
I’m halfway through writing a brief when my phone rings.
“Eleanor Clarke.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Clarke. This is Andrea Thompson. I’m a partner at Gray and Ellington.” A partner. I got the job. They would make an associate handle rejections. “I’m thrilled to offer…” I tune her out as she starts to delve into details, waiting for the excitement I thought would accompany this moment. Learning I got the job I thought I wanted. Was told I should want. By professors, classmates, peers, summer employers… by William. By my father. Just like when William proposed, this moment doesn’t feel the way I envisioned it would.
Is that because reality never lives up to fantasy?
Or because being told you should want something doesn’t make you want it?
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I realize I’m supposed to say something in response.
“Thank you,” I state. “Uh—how long do I have to make a decision on whether or not I’m accepting the position?”
Another pause. Not a question she was expecting, I’m sure. This is the position you leverage others to get, not the one you leverage.
“Uh… I’m not—” Andrea clears her throat. “We’d like a decision as soon as possible, but I’ll have to confirm whether there’s a specific date.”
“Okay. Could you have someone let me know if there is one?” My voice is cool and detached, and I’m not making it sound as such. That’s simply how I’m feeling at this exact moment.
“Yes, of course,” Andrea replies. “Have a good evening, Ms. Clarke. Congratulations. Working here is a coveted opportunity.”
That final sentence makes me smile, not that she can see it. I’ve yet to meet a lawyer who hasn’t mastered the art of making pointed comments. “Yes, I’m aware. Have a good night as well.”
I hang up first, studying the half-written brief open on my computer. Rather than keep working on it, I open the web browser and pull up Until Proven Guilty’s website. Their staff is all listed. I click on Lily Sampson’s name. There’s a short biography describing where she received her undergraduate and law degrees, as well as her work experience. She’s only two years older than me. I’m also annoyed to learn she’s a smiley blonde, according to the small photograph included alongside the paragraph.
“Who’s Lily… Sampson?” Paige’s voice suddenly says to my immediate right, and I jump, before slamming my laptop shut.
“No one,” I reply hastily, shoving the papers I spread out on the couch back into their folders.
Paige raises both eyebrows. “Oh-kay. I came to grab you for dinner.”
“Great.” I finish cleaning up the papers I’ve littered about and stand up, stretching.
Paige’s still eyeing me, but she doesn’t say anything as we head into the kitchen.
“Did I hear you on the phone earlier?” Eliza asks when we enter.
“Yeah,” I reply, spreading cheese on one of the crackers set out as an appetizer on the kitchen island.
“Work call?” Paige asks, rolling her eyes as she pours wine into glasses.
“Yeah,” I respond. Hopefully that’s what she’ll surmise the online research was related to. “Job offer, actually.”
“From that big fancy firm you were waiting to hear from?”
“Uh-huh,” I reply, accepting the glass of wine she hands me.
“Woohoo! Cheers!” She clangs her glass against mine.
The guys enter the kitchen, shifting the conversation to a discussion on how to prepare the fish they caught. I swallow some disgust with another sip of wine as they pull out the fleshy, slimy meat. I’ve never gotten over my aversion to seafood.
Grilling is settled on as the cooking method, and we all end up out on the deck as Tommy fires up the grill. The sun is just starting to dip below the horizon, bathing everything in sight in soft, golden light. I watch the color infiltrate my wine glass as Tommy and Mike argue over which temperature to cook the fish at.
They must settle on one, because they both join the rest of us at the slatted table a couple minutes later.
“Congratulations on the job offer, Elle!” Tommy tells me. Eliza must have mentioned it to him. “The firm’s a really big deal, right?”
“Yeah, it is. Thanks,” I reply.
Ryder snorts, and I leap at the chance to challenge the passive aggressiveness that’s wafting off him. On the first sign of the lack of enthusiasm I’m experiencing in someone else.
“Do you have a problem with me getting a job at one of the largest, most prestigious law firms in the world, Ryder?”
“Nope,” he says breezily. “The millionaires they represent will be lucky to have you helping to line their pockets.”
There’s no easy chatter around the table anymore. Once again, we’re the car crash that no one can look away from.
I know I should drop it. But Ryder has always elicited the raw type of response uncharacteristic of the poise that’s usually effortless for me. Indignation wells, and I let it spill out.
“I graduated at the top of my class from the highest-ranked law school in the country so I could get a job like this! What do you want me to do? Work at a non-profit like Lily?”
“Jealous, Clarke?” Ryder mocks.
I’m engaged, as he already knows, and I should say so. Instead, I say something infinitely worse. “Of spending time with Lily? Not particularly.”
My heart races, because suddenly it really matters how he replies.
“Of her spending time with me,” Ryder says quietly, holding my gaze the whole time.
I’m dangerously close to crying. I set myself up for it because I didn’t think he would follow through. I thought that he was over the past. Mirroring a conversation we had seven years ago is pretty much the opposite of that. Memories and moments tangle and twist between us in an invisible string of connection until I veer off script.
“You made certain I don’t have any say in who you spend time with, Ryder.” I stand. “Excuse me, I have to make a phone call.”
Without another word, I stride toward the stairs that lead down to the beach. Salty air smacks me in the face, and I breathe deeply, trying to center myself. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m letting a guy I haven’t seen in seven years dictate my happiness.
The job offer I got earlier is with a firm large and prestigious enough my father will accept I’m not working for him. The starting salary is ridiculous. I’ll have a big office, a secretary, and all the resources one could want. It’s the culmination of years—decades—of work.
I didn’t dream of being a corporate attorney when I was little. I knew my parents would push me to go to law school after college. But part of why I loved being with Ryder so much was that I didn’t—couldn’t—focus on anything else when I was with him. Graduating law school and embarking on a career felt awfully distant then. Now, it’s on top of me.
Have I let my parents influence my choices? Absolutely.
Am I proud of my accomplishments? Also yes. I’ve worked hard to get where I am.
I take a seat in the sand, pulling my phone out. I tap on William’s name, and it starts ringing. And ringing. Just when I think it’s sending me to voicemail, he answers.
“Hey, Eleanor.”
“Are you all right?” I ask. “You sound exhausted.”
“Yeah.” He yawns. “Just having a long day at the office. Was here until 2 AM and came in at 6.”
“You probably should have just slept there,” I reply.
He laughs. “Yeah, probably. Figured I’d try to maintain some semblance of a work life balance. Seems to be a futile effort with you out of town.”
“You should leave on time tonight,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I will,” he replies, although we both know he won’t. “How’s the girls weeke
nd going?”
“It’s fun.” I try to inject some enthusiasm in my voice. “I went kayaking earlier.”
“That’s hard to imagine.” William chuckles.
“Why?” I reply, well aware there’s an edge to my voice.
William doesn’t hear it. “I just don’t think of you and water sports.”
“It was fun,” I state, as I look out at the sunset over the sparkling saltwater. Orange and pink have joined the streaks of golden.
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He yawns again.
“I heard back from Gray and Ellington today.”
“You did?!” There’s a pause, where I’m obviously meant to fill in the outcome.
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Eleanor! That’s amazing! You’re coming back Sunday, right? I’ll make reservations so we can celebrate.” There’s no indecision in William’s voice. No wavering on whether I should take the job. Just enthusiasm and encouragement.
“Yes, Sunday,” I confirm.
“Congratulations, babe. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I reply.
“Uh-oh, one of the partners is headed this way. I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you Sunday, okay?”
“Okay,” I respond.
“Love you.”
“You, too.” He hangs up.
I drop my phone from my ear, half-wishing I could throw it in the sea. It’s ironic I ended up living in one of the busiest cities in the country. Most of the time I wish I was someplace exactly like this with fresh air and the ability to hear yourself think. Without any distractions or obligations. Another thing I let my parents decide for me.
One deep inhale later, I head back up the deck. Happy chatter fills the air now, rather than the tense silence I left. The other change is the appearance of food. The fish has been cooked, and there’s also a spread of the salad, rice, and roasted veggies Eliza prepared earlier.
“Everything good?” Eliza asks as I return to my seat.
I nod, keeping my gaze on my glass of wine. “Just checking in with William.”
“He excited about the job?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “He is.”
Come Break My Heart Again Page 19