Our Secret Summer(52)
Once Isabel mentioned Winnie, I wanted to know everything, so I asked questions. For Isabel it seemed like talking about her sister was a gift. Memories surged to the surface and one story easily led into another.
When we were little…
She always laughed…
We always planned to…
Toward the end…
I watched her explain her sister’s death with a bravery I admired, and then, before I knew it, I’d taken hold of her towel and gently tugged so I could draw her into my arms. I was so relieved when she pressed into me rather than resisting, dropping her cheek against my chest and tilting her face down. I felt her shudder, listened to her quiet sniffle, shared in her pain.
“Shh, Isabel,” I murmured against her temple, soothing her by rubbing her hair while wishing there was something more I could do. I haven’t comforted many friends in heavy moments. The right words failed me and emotion tightened my throat so that even if I had come up with something wise and helpful to say, I’m not sure I would have been able to force it out anyway.
I would have stood there for as long as Isabel wanted me to. She leaned her full weight against me, frozen in her grief, and I held her firmly until she’d calmed and managed a few shaky inhales. She looked up at me, her black lashes damp with unshed tears. I watched her smile and tuck away her emotions, but before they were all packed up and wrapped with a pretty bow, I cradled her face, my eyes looking into hers, imploring her to understand my silence. It will be okay, I promise. Her expression was so resolute, so fierce in her bid to shut me out and regain her strength.
“My sister would have loved your yacht,” she said, lightening the mood.
I smiled, and her gaze fell to my lips. Our closeness shifted in that instant, like a match strike. Did she feel it, too?
“There’s this bucket list,” Isabel told me with a determined look. “Winnie’s list that she made before…”
“Tell me about it.” I sounded distracted because my thumb had already moved up to stroke her bottom lip, teasing the soft skin, still red from when I’d last kissed her.
I watched her throat muscles work as she swallowed. “There are a few things that are simple to check off. Some I’ve already done, like surfing and swimming at Bora Bora Beach.”
Her jaw trembled, and intentionally or not, that slight tell made it almost impossible not to lower my face and kiss her. Fortunately I grabbed hold of the thought and threw it away, reminding myself that it wasn’t the time. Not after Isabel had made herself vulnerable discussing her sister.
She tilted her head back and held my stare as she continued. “Some of the things on the list… are more difficult to accomplish solo, and I think I want your help completing those.”
She had me wrapped around her finger, curious about where she was going with this, but that was the unfortunate moment Beth decided to finally come back with the bottled waters I’d requested earlier.
My crew member halted immediately once she saw Isabel nestled in my arms and quickly averted her gaze. “I’m so sorry! I meant to bring these earlier, but Daniella requested an espresso martini and then changed her order to a strawberry daiquiri. By the time I’d finished making the second drink, I completely forgot about your waters. My apologies.”
Isabel laughed lightly, reassuring her, “It’s fine. Thank you for bringing them.”
Beth nodded sheepishly and started backing away. “Also, the chef is just about to serve lunch while we head back to dock.”
Isabel stepped away from me and smiled, happy to follow Beth. I would have preferred to stay down in my stateroom with her the rest of the trip. I never did get to learn what Isabel needed my help with.
“Am I allowed to—” Juan Carlos starts now, but I’m quick to cut him off.
“No.”
“Joder.”
I feel some morsel of relief after I drop Juan Carlos off and I can scrub my hand down my face and let my forehead fall against the steering wheel. I can’t remember ever feeling this unraveled by a woman. I’ve had great relationships, and I’ve experienced if not enduring, lifelong love, then respect and adoration and all the rest. I didn’t know this was a possibility: me, totally distracted by someone, so much so that I don’t even realize I’ve been sitting in Juan Carlos’s driveway until he comes back out and taps on my window.
I look up, and he motions for me to roll it down. Then he passes me an open beer.
“You want to come in for a bit?”
I don’t miss the laughter in his eyes.
“Not really.”
“Going to just sit in my driveway?”
“I might.”
He clears his throat, likely having a hard time restraining himself. “Does she know she has you like this?”
I down a heavy sip of beer. “Who?”
The shit-eating grin he offers is enough to make me want to punch him. Because I’m an adult and don’t want to have to tend to bloody knuckles, I shove his beer back at him and roll my window up, muffling his string of rapid-fire Spanish. He thinks he has it all figured out, the punk. I flip him the bird and reverse down his driveway, wondering how the hell I’m going to stay away from Aura tonight.
The benefit of ignoring my work for most of the day means I have a mountain of calls, texts, and emails waiting for me when I make it home. The workaholic monster in me rubs his hands together with glee. I run and lift weights in my gym, shower, change into comfortable clothes, and spend the rest of the day at my desk looking over a business proposal from a chef I’ve teamed up with for two other restaurants on the island. He’s from Texas and has a flair for combining unusual flavor profiles. This new high-end eatery is inspired by his love of barbecue and slow-smoked meats.