Was she a burden to him? Did he feel responsible for her? Was that what friendship with her gave him? A sense of responsibility? Was that what the swimming was all about? Did he feel compelled to help her even if he didn’t want to? “Anyway, I have Stone and Kyle on creep patrol. God knows those two are paranoid and suspicious enough for all of us.”
“That’s what brothers are for,” he said.
She smiled, thinking of her brothers and their big bodies and even larger hearts. “They wouldn’t think it was a good idea to go to Paris without one of them. You’re all overprotective.”
He let out a long sigh, his gaze directed just left of her face. “We all care about you.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “But I hope you don’t feel like you have to take care of me at the expense of your own needs.”
His eyes widened. “What? Of course I don’t.”
“It would kill me to think you felt sorry for me or that I was a burden.” She gave him a small smile, hoping to alleviate the tension in his face.
“Trust me. You’re anything but a burden. You’re the best thing in my life.”
She jerked in surprise. “I am?”
“Totally. You’re all light and goodness.” His lips turned up in a smile, but his eyes glittered.
“Kyle used to call me our lighthouse. He said I glowed enough for the three of us.”
“It’s true,” he said.
Without warning, he dipped under the water and swam toward the other side. She watched his sleek body pummel through the water, then surface. He hurled himself up and out of the pool and stood at the edge, peering at her with narrowed eyes. Water dripped from his hair and shorts.
“Trey?” A sliver of cold fear slipped under her skin. What was the matter with him? He slumped, as though a heavy cloak weighed down his shoulders. “Did I say something?” She pushed away from the side of the pool and swam over to him.
He sat on the edge of the pool with his arms crossed over his lean chest. “Are you serious about going to meet this guy?”
She draped one arm over the side of the pool and watched him, searching for clues to understand this strange mood that had suddenly overtaken him. Threads of sun glinted through the trees, obscuring half his face in shadows, while the other gleamed in the orange glow. “I was just kidding. It’s just a romantic fancy. I don’t even know the guy. Plus, he’s in love with his best friend.” She lowered her voice. “I’m lonely, that’s all. The idea of meeting a man in Paris is nothing but a fantasy for someone like me. It’s been such a long time since I was with anyone. Seems my whole life is spent waiting for someone who never comes.”
“You hide away. No one can find you. Not the way you live, all closed up and hidden under clothes.”
She smacked his calf. “I’ve been on five thousand coffee dates. I’m hardly hiding.”
“But you don’t really show yourself to them, do you? Not like with me?”
“You’re my friend,” she said. “It’s different. I know you’re not going anywhere. Right?”
“Right.”
“It’s different when people get romantically involved,” she said.
A heaviness settled in the air between them. She glanced upward, almost expecting storm clouds to have gathered overhead.
He slid into the water next to her and spoke softly near her ear. “You should show me your legs. Right now. Swim over to the steps and walk out of here. Let me see you.”
Was he insane? “What good would that do?”
“Practice. For when you meet a man you want to be with. The more you show up as the real you, the easier it will be.”
She stared down through the water at her dangling legs, measuring his request. He’d pushed her into swimming. He’d been right to do so. Was he right about this, too? Would showing herself to him make it easier to imagine doing so with someone else? What if he flinched? What if she saw disgust in his eyes? She would not be able to forgive him. Losing him would be worse than all the rejection from other men by a hundredfold. Could she take the risk? Bare it all and see if he was like the others? If he reacted as her former boyfriend had, she would be devastated. The pedestal she put Trey on would crash to the ground.
“What if you don’t look nearly as bad as you think?” he asked. “Women are harder on themselves than any man would ever be.”
She rolled her eyes. “Men always think they know more about women than they really do.”
He frowned. “That’s not true. I know everything about you.”
“Oh really?”
“I know how you like your coffee—two shots of espresso, nonfat milk, no foam, and one squirt of sugar-free caramel syrup. You always say a prayer before you set out in your car. You read old Agatha Christie mysteries over and over and never remember who the killer is. When you have a salad, you eat everything but the lettuce. Shall I go on?”
“Those are things any best friend would know.”
He winced. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a man, not a girlfriend.”
Taken aback, she turned away, examining the tile on the edge of the pool.
She knew he was a man every single minute she was with him. He smelled of soap and leather. His full mouth seemed made for kissing. The corners of his eyes crinkled like crepe paper when he laughed. He moved with lithe efficiency she felt sure continued in the bedroom. She’d imagined at least a thousand times how his sensitive hands would explore every inch of her.
And that’s when the fantasy ended. Because eventually he would come to her legs. She could not go further in her imagination. All fantasies stopped just below her knees.
Without warning, he took off for the shallow end of the pool. When he reached the steps, he sat on the top one and called out to her. “Swim over to me.”
She hesitated, watching him, unsure what to do.
He scooted to the second step and held out his arms. Lightly, he said, “Show me your scars and I’ll show you mine.”
“You have none.” She grimaced as she started to swim toward him. This was a dream. That’s all. Soon she would wake. For now, she followed the path to Trey, hypnotized by his open expression.
When she reached the shallow end of the pool, she knelt in the water, too shy to go farther. The sun and sky played footsie as swashes of lavender and orange colored the horizon. Pepper always said lighting was everything. Would this soft light mask her imperfections?
He motioned to her to come closer. “You’re all right. It’s just me.” His voice was like that of a parent encouraging a child’s first steps.
She inched up from the water, revealing more and more of herself, until she was standing. The water came to three feet, reaching her midthighs. She locked gazes with Trey. Time and space condensed until they were insulated in the lavender twilight. Nothing and no one else existed in this dream but the two of them. Trey waited for her with his arms outstretched. She could go to him. He was her safe place.
Their eyes locked as she took one step and then another. In five, she reached the bottom of the steps. He stood and held out his hands without losing eye contact. “All the way now.”
She took his hands and walked up the remaining steps. He walked backward, drawing her with him up to the deck. Together, holding hands, they exited the pool. The stone under her feet was warm, as was the air on her wet skin. Still, she shook with fright.
He never broke eye contact. “Are you ready for me to look at you?”
She nodded.
He backed up another couple inches and dropped her hands, then knelt on the smooth stone next to her legs. Under his gaze, she shivered. Goose bumps covered her arms. She looked down just as his long, sensitive fingers brushed against the dent in her left leg. “Is this all it is? I’m quite underwhelmed,” he said.
Tears welled in her eyes as he traced the red scars with his index finger, as if drawing a picture on her skin. “Each one of these marks is evidence of your journey. Your bravery. Your unwillingness to give up. Ho
w could anyone see them as anything but beautiful?”
A sob rose from her chest. “That’s not true.”
He leaped to his feet and pulled her into his arms. Their bare, wet skin made them slippery. She placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. She watched his pulse thud under his chin.
“Listen to me now,” he said. “You have to start thinking of your scars as warrior paint—something to be proud of, not hide away. You’re a survivor and have the scars to prove it. And if a man looks at you and sees anything but a lovely, strong woman, he’s blind.”
Tears fell in hot streaks down her face. She allowed her head to tilt and rested her cheek against his collarbone.
His arms tightened around her. He kissed the top of her head.
She lifted her face to look up at him and found his eyes peering down into hers, as if he could see straight through to her soul.
“You need to hold out for a man who loves you just as you are,” he said.
I wish that man were you.
That thought barreled into her consciousness like a flash of unexpected lightning. Where had it come from? This was Trey. Her friend. A man, yes. But not the man for her.
Be content with that, she told herself. Friends never leave you.
She withdrew from his embrace. “Thank you for this.”
“Thank you for indulging my whim,” he said.
“I don’t know if I can ever be as free with anyone else as I am with you.”
“I’ll always be here for you. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t.”
Again, she reminded herself how much better it was to have a loyal friend than a fickle lover. Trey grounded her, gave her confidence.
“You’re the best,” she said, then planted a sisterly peck on his cheek. “Let’s go home. I want ice cream.”
5
Trey
* * *
Night had fallen by the time Trey turned onto Main Street. Since they left the Mullens’, Autumn had been humming to the radio while braiding her damp hair with deft fingers. Once, she remarked how relaxed she felt and that she really should make an effort to swim for exercise. “But where?” she asked.
“I’m sure Kara would invite you to use her pool any time you wanted,” he said.
She didn’t respond but appeared to be contemplating this suggestion as they entered the city limits. They drove past the Cliffside Bay Resort, a massive sprawl of pillars and balconies, all lit up like a Christmas tree. The grocery store was still open, even though the flowers had all been taken in for the evening. By dawn, Clayton, the flower guy, would have arranged his day’s finds in front of the glass doors. Without the colorful, fragrant flowers, the storefront seemed lonely, even bereft.
Like him without Autumn.
Internally, he chastised himself for being overdramatic even though it was true.
The Oar pulsed with life. The outside seating was overrun with sunburned tourists and somewhat annoyed, tanned locals. The residents hated the additional patrons but had accepted it as part of the town’s ebb and flow, just as they did the fluctuating tides of the sea that continually morphed their strand of beach. He knew without having to see that the back patio, strung with white lights, would be filled with people enjoying adult beverages in the warm night air.
Through the windows, he caught a glimpse of a local band performing. On the dance floor, couples swayed to the music. He envied them. Perhaps a few of the couples would wake tomorrow in the bed of someone they barely knew. After his divorce, he’d had a few of those nights. That was before Autumn, during his ridiculous vow to remain forever single. How had he ever thought it smarter to engage in meaningless physical encounters than make a life with a good woman? He’d been bitter and closed up like the crabs on the beach until Autumn’s sweetness had drawn him out of his shell. Now he was as exposed as a crab without a shell, all squishy and vulnerable.
As they passed by the bookstore, Lance Mullen was in the process of locking the front door. His wife, Mary, leaned over a two-seater stroller holding their toddler and infant daughters and rearranged a blanket. Their dog, Freckles, waited patiently on his haunches for his family to be ready.
Trey sensed Autumn looking at the Mullen family and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. The look of longing on her face pained him. She yearned for the dog and stroller and adoring husband. He wanted to give them to her.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Oh, sure. Just fighting off the green monster.” Tendrils of hair, unwilling to be tamed by the braid, curled against her neck. Without makeup, she looked young and even more innocent. He loved how he could see more of her freckles without her careful makeup coverage.
He didn’t say anything as he turned the car down the side street that led to her house. Cottages built in the 1940s as vacation bungalows and as similar as sisters with their gray shingles and white trim hugged the shoreline. He pulled into Autumn’s skinny driveway and parked next to her car. When he turned off the engine, intending to walk her to her door, she put her hand on his forearm. “Trey, wait. I need to say something to you. What you did tonight was so… I don’t have the words to tell you what it meant to me. Thank you for pushing me.”
His throat tightened and he was unable to do anything but nod.
She reached over and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek similar to the one earlier. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“I can walk you to your door.”
She flashed him an indulgent smile. “It’s five feet away. Just watch me from here.”
He nodded in agreement and watched as she unbuckled her seat belt and slipped out of his car. She tottered up her front walkway in her flat sandals. The swim had tired her. When she reached her front door, she opened it and then turned back to give him a quick wave, then disappeared inside her house.
He drove home with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. As much progress as he’d made today, he worried about the fake Art and Paris and what would happen if she found out the truth.
Later, after a shower, he pulled on shorts and an old T-shirt, then made himself a sandwich and grabbed a beer. Neither Stone nor Pepper was home, and the empty, quiet apartment represented everything wrong about his life. Without them, the space looked and felt like the lonely pages of a magazine spread. Soon, after Pepper and Stone moved to their new house, it would be like this all the time.
In his room, he sprawled lengthwise over his bed with the plate on his lap. He watched the second half of a soccer match on television without much enthusiasm, caring little about the outcome since his LA team wasn’t playing. He finished his food and decided to check his email. Constantly checking was a bad habit but he didn’t care. If there was a message from Autumn, he wanted to read it now, not later.
Setting aside his plate, he swung his legs from the bed and strode over to his desk. Instead of sitting, he took the laptop back to his bed and resumed his position before opening his email. His heart leapt at the sight of her name in his messages.
* * *
Dear Art,
You won’t believe what happened today. I went swimming with Trey. He talked me into joining him at our friend’s pool after promising he wouldn’t look at my legs. The strangest thing happened, though. Once I was in that water, it was like the old Autumn returned. I felt young, like I did before the accident. My legs were without the usual heaviness. Swimming felt effortless, and the water was like a balm to my achy legs.
Perhaps that explains what happened next. It was like a dream then and thinking back on it now, the experience seems even more dreamlike. This will shock you. It does me, and I’m the one who did it. Trey convinced me to show him my legs. Yes, you read that right. No one, other than my brothers and Sara, has ever seen me without covering until tonight. I don’t know what got into me, but before I knew what I was doing, I strolled out of the pool and into his outstretched hands.
He looked, Art. Really looked. He didn’t flinch or grimace or
look away. Then he traced my scars with his fingers and told me I should wear them proudly, as they are proof of my survival. I’d never thought of it that way. I’m not convinced to run naked down the street or anything, but his reaction gave me a little more self-confidence.
I couldn’t express properly what his gift meant to me. Honestly, I don’t know how or why he even thought of encouraging me to swim. I’ve never mentioned it to him. Lately, it’s like he reads my mind. Regardless, he’s the most thoughtful person in my life. I’m racking my brain to try to think of a way to repay him.
Maybe by the next time I write, I’ll have gone to the beach.
How are you? Have you talked with your friend about your feelings?
Best,
007
* * *
His smiled as he read her message, though sobered at the “reads my mind” section. If she only knew that his deception was his crystal ball. He needed to put an end to Art. Soon. He would do it soon. Not tonight. First, he would write to her. He glanced at the clock, doing the math in his head. It was the early hours of the morning in Paris. If he sent one back now it might seem strange to her. He decided to write it now but set it up to send later. This fake life was complicated. Lies always were.
* * *
Dear 007,
Swimming! I’m proud of you for being brave. What’s that saying? If it doesn’t scare you, it isn’t worth doing. Something like that, anyway. Regardless, good for you.
You may have given Trey hints about swimming that you were unaware of at the time. Men are mostly clueless, but every once in a while, we pick up on women’s clues. I’m glad he reacted the way he did. I think most people will if you give them a chance. Maybe this is just what you need to tackle that beach. I hope it is.
I wish I could say things were as good on my end as your news. I’ve been in a bit of a funk, feeling sorry for myself. I’m still stuck in the same place with the girl of my heart. Tonight, we went…
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