“You know it is.”
“They’re investments. I rent them out.”
“Slightly better.”
The ferry starts moving and Sam grins into the wind, his capitalist spirit silenced by the beauty of the view. Sam stands at the front of the ferry, watching the island as it approaches, then moves to the back. The city shrinks in the distance until it transforms into a graph, the CN Tower the western outlier to the normal distribution of downtown business towers. A few intrepid boaters are out, and one dude on a Jet Ski zooms by. I often forget that Toronto is a lake city and there are people who own things like kayaks and actively enjoy being on the water.
When we arrive, Sam’s content to let me play tour guide. Even though it’s been years since I’ve been to the islands and it’s rarely been while sober, I do a good job of getting us to the beach on the other side of the island. The rain has stopped but it’s deserted. We pull off our shoes and make our way across sand that’s been dappled by the raindrops, taking selfies and digging in our toes.
“Canada geese,” Sam says, pointing as if I can miss the flock ten meters away. “Pretty.”
“Don’t go near them,” I warn. “Geese are mean.”
He’s already approaching them and looks over his shoulder with scorn. “I can handle a goose, Gracie.”
I swipe the water off a picnic bench and sit down to enjoy the show. Sam is determined to get the perfect close-up of one of the geese, as if the zoom feature doesn’t exist for a reason, and he creeps closer. I pull out my phone and start the video to show Fangli later.
He’s already off-balance in a stealthy attempt to get to the goose without spooking it when it attacks, thrusting out its beak as if to give him a nip. Sam leaps back, phone flying off to the side. The goose hisses and advances on him and Sam—action star Sam Yao, hero of the silver screen Sam Yao—falls back on his butt and does some weird commando roll to get away from it.
I’m laughing too hard to film properly so I don’t capture Sam’s indignant expression when he pops back to his feet.
“It’s not funny.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Go ahead.” He dusts the wet sand off his knees.
“What?”
“Say it, Gracie. I know you want to.”
“I told you. I told you so.” I hop off the bench to find his phone, which I hand over.
“You did.” He opens his phone and we check the photo. Sam captured the goose in attack mode and the entire image is a wide-open hissing beak, slightly blurred, with open wings in the background.
That sends me into another laughing fit. Sam groans. “All that for nothing.”
“Nothing? That’s a classic goose shot. It’s gorgeous.”
“Like you.”
Does he mean that as a real compliment or a quick tease? I don’t want to say “thank you” if it’s the latter because that would be embarrassing. I decide to treat it like a joke. “I think the goose has better feathers.”
Sam reaches out to touch my hair, then realizes he’s covered with sand when a clod drops on my shoulder. “You’re much prettier than a goose, feathers or not,” he assures me as he rubs his hands on his thighs.
Is it still a joke? It’s safer to act as though it is. “High bar.”
I grab my shoes and keep going down the beach. Sam comes up from behind and almost hesitantly laces his fingers with mine, his hand wet from the rain and rough from the sand. I do my best to be casual but holding hands is almost more intimate than kissing. When I glance up, Sam smiles and kisses my temple.
Ugh, why is he like this? My heart can’t deal.
We walk like that for a bit, matching our steps to each other until the rain begins again and we let go to open our umbrellas as the wind picks up. I gasp as it catches my umbrella and promptly turns it inside out.
Sam keeps us dry as I check my umbrella over. “Broken,” I say.
He wraps his arm around me, heavy but warm on my shoulders, and holds the umbrella over both of us. “Shall we keep walking or do you want to go?” he asks. The rain has beaded on his hat and his mask is tucked under his chin, ready to pull on if someone comes.
“Keep going.”
I move but he tugs me back. “I forgive you for laughing,” he says.
“I forgive you for not listening to me about the goose.”
“Fair enough.” He bends down and kisses me, lips cool from the damp day. The rain patters against the umbrella as my hands come up to wrap around his biceps, bringing him even closer. The kisses meld together and the sound of the lake fades and Sam is all there is around me. He’s warm in the cool day, and his hands smooth down the droplets on my hair. When he presses tiny kisses on me, he leaves a longer pause between each one, making me chase after him.