The Shippers(52)

Why was I high-fiving him? These were basic details!

God, my bar was low.

On the other hand, these were basic details that Finn definitely hadn’t known yesterday. Nothing wrong with progress.

Next, the three of us stood there for an awkward second.

Then Finn said, “So. Who gave you that hickey?”

My eyes went wide.

Cooper and I glanced at each other, like What!

I lifted my hand to the place on my neck. Then I said, “I thought you thought it was eczema.”

“I was joking.”

“You were?” Then—because he’d apparently made a joke earlier that I hadn’t laughed at—I giggled as an apology.

“Was it this guy?” Finn asked, nodding toward Cooper.

“No,” Cooper and I said in unison, guilty as crows.

Next, I started panic-yammering: “No, no. We’re just—childhood friends. We would never, ya know, hickey each other. We just goof around and do friend stuff. This hickey came from another person. Who I met on the boat. Since I’m supersingle and open to adventure.”

Supersingle? Seriously?

Finn looked back and forth between us like he wasn’t sure he bought it. “Are you sure you’re just friends?” he asked me. “Because he seems genuinely into you.”

I was so flustered that Finn Turner was even talking to me, I almost—almost—answered, Oh, that? He was just faking.

But Cooper jumped in and saved me from myself. “I’ve had a thing for her since we were kids,” he said. “But she doesn’t like me back.”

Quick thinking, Cooper!

Finn nodded at that, like now it all worked. “So you guys aren’t—dating?”

“Us?” I asked in falsetto, like he was crazy. “No! No, no, no.”

I expected Cooper to join in, but he was examining something on his shoe.

And then, with that settled, we recommenced walking to dinner—now as a group of three, with me in the middle, flanked by the boys. Cooper—presumably to give me space to make a love connection—got quiet and put his hands in his pockets to stroll along beside us.

Finn leaned close and pulled me into conversation.

“I was hoping to run into you,” Finn said as we walked.

“You were?”

He bumped his shoulder against mine. “We arrive at Nassau tomorrow,” he said.

I nodded like that was interesting news.

He went on. “And I see there’s a kayaking excursion.”

I nodded some more.

“And I’m wondering,” Finn said as we reached the dining room, “if you might like to go with me.”

“Go … kayaking?” I asked.

Finn nodded. “On a date.”

I so badly wanted to take a moment to react to that. Not just react, but savor. Finn Turner was asking me on a date. I would’ve given anything to call up my teenage self right then and give her the news.

But, instead, just as we arrived at the dining room, I caught sight of my parents presiding over the block of wedding party tables. My mom was proudly gazing at Ashley and Brody, and my dad was proudly gazing at … my mom.

We never really know what other people are thinking, right? It’s all just guesswork, based on our own best interpretations of facial expressions, and body language, and tone of voice. Especially if we’re talking about people like my dad—who are, to put it mildly, deeply stoic.

But there was no doubt about this moment.

Whatever else you might say about my dad, and I’d probably said it all … there was no doubt that he loved my mom.

He just loved her.

And he wanted to be with her.

Maybe he wasn’t great at love. But something in his eyes right then made me think that he wanted to get better.

And that was all I needed. Right in that one second, I signed up for Team Dad.

I had always been on my mom’s team by default—as all of us kids were. And my dad had always been all by himself. I guess I’d thought that was where he preferred to be. But looking at him right then reminded me of this morning—of how lonely it had felt to tell Cooper that he was the only person on my entire tragic team of one.

And then I realized that my dad didn’t even have that many.

He was just endlessly on his own.

So I joined him—even if only in my head. If he wanted my mother back? If he wanted to change her mind? He was going to need some serious help. It might already be too late. It might take an actual miracle. But in case you missed it, the undisputed alpha of my childhood pack had just asked me out—on a date. And if that didn’t qualify as a miracle, I wasn’t sure what would.

If I could make that happen, I could do anything.

I looked at my dad with compassion.

Poor guy. He’d screwed up the best thing in his life—and he seemed to have no idea how it happened. From my new vantage point of success, I decided to help him.

It was a heck of a role reversal—from him being the neglectful father who had created all my neuroses to me being the love savant who could share some of my wisdom with the less fortunate.

I’m not sure if this is how compassion always works, but something about that moment gave me strength.

My dad seemed to sense me watching him. He looked over, and I gave him a little salute, like he’d taught us when we were kids.