She sent the message, then feared it had been a mistake. Before the anxiety peaked, she got his reply.
Never.
Sabrina closed her eyes. If only it were true. If only things were different.
This conversation was getting out of hand. It was getting scary. She needed to change the subject.
Tell me something about you that I don’t know.
Maybe he’d tell her how he’d gotten the scar between the knuckles of his right hand. Or maybe he’d tell her about his first dance or his favorite place to think.
The email appeared in her inbox, and she clicked it open.
I love you.
Her lungs constricted, pinching off her air supply, making her next breath impossible. Her lungs were too big for her chest. Her skin too tight for her heart. The words, blurred on the screen.
The cursor’s arrow pointed to the words, emphasizing them. He’d never said it before, when she was just Sweetpea. Why couldn’t he have said it before Arielle had come? She wanted full claim on the words, wanted to snatch them up, draw them close like a favorite blanket.
But the words didn’t belong to her. They were Arielle’s.
Would Tucker have said them if he knew who she was? She didn’t have to answer, didn’t even want to. Had he told Arielle tonight? Is that what caused her mysterious smile?
Then she remembered the question that had preceded his words. She’d asked him to reveal something she didn’t know. He couldn’t have told Arielle. But what if he said it tomorrow night or the next? What if Arielle was falling for him too?
Another message appeared. Her pulse raced like a boat hitting the open sea.
I don’t expect you to say anything. I just wanted you to know.
The truth was, and she couldn’t deny it any longer, she loved him too. God help her, but she did.
You can’t tell him
. Yes, she knew that too. There was nothing she could say. Her breath came in quick puffs, drying her mouth. She had to put an end to this conversation before she found herself in deeper waters.
She took the mouse, her fingers trembling, and clicked on the
X
, closing the program before she did something really foolish—like telling Tucker the truth.
Sweetpea: My aunt and cousins keep trying to reach me. If I avoid them, will they go away? Sorry to be so snarky. I was never good at conflict resolution.
Only when Sabrina saw Tucker ambling toward his table did she realize she’d been hoping he wouldn’t have the audacity to show. But there he was, seating himself at his usual table, looking too handsome, turning that crooked grin on Oliver.
Just the one peek of him with his cap pulled low over his curls sent her traitorous mind back to the boat where she’d been within arm’s reach of heaven.
Deep breaths, Sabrina. Deep breaths.
Resolutely, she grabbed the coffee and headed his way.
It’s just another day at the café, another morning pouring coffee for Tucker, pretending I’m just his server.
Never mind his lips had been locked on hers two brief days ago.
Not helpful.
Mercifully, Oliver’s mug needed to be topped. Two extra seconds’ stalling time. “Thanks, Sabrina.”
She drew a deep breath and turned.
Just another day
. . . “Good morning, Tucker.”
Pour coffee. Do not make eye contact. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred kisses.
Dollars.
“Sabrina.” He nodded, or at least, she thought he did.
“I was wondering . . .” he began.
The kitchen bell dinged. Saved by the bell. “Excuse me.” She rushed toward the window, but it was Char’s order.
“I’ll get it,” Sabrina told the server, who was in the middle of making coffee.
“Thanks, hon.”
No problem. She had to stay busy. Very, very busy. Her mind rewound Tucker’s last words. What had he been fixing to say?
“I was wondering . . .”
If we could talk?
If I could explain?
If we could go back to the break room and make out?
Bad, Sabrina.
She delivered the tray of food, and when three more tables filled in her station, she nearly shouted with glee. Thank God for summer people. They ran her for ketchup, extra napkins, and refills, and she was happy to oblige.
Her contact with Tucker the next half hour was limited to filling his mug twice, as she passed his table. Then finally, he was checking his watch.
Better go, Tucker. Can’t be late for work.
A few minutes later, the bell over the door jingled, signaling his departure, and Sabrina felt the weight of an oil barge lift off her shoulders.
The day was exhausting. The café hopped, but the tips were worth the hard work. By the time she pulled into her drive, however, she was ready for a brisk jog. Arielle had borrowed her bike to ride the Surfside bike path to the other side of the island so she’d be gone awhile. It was the perfect time to slip away and—
Someone was sitting on the steps to her loft. At the sound of her tires on the gravel, Tucker straightened from his slump.
Her heart found a new gear and, unfortunately, it wasn’t Reverse. What was he doing here? He must be waiting for Arielle, but her cousin wouldn’t be home until this evening. Why wasn’t he at work?
She turned off the engine and exited the car, steeling herself against his boyish charm. Her eyes flickered over his broad shoulders and the thick forearms that rested on his jean-clad knees. Nothing boyish there.
A-hem
.
“Sabrina.” He pulled his cap off and stood.
“Tucker. Arielle’s out for a bike ride, and I don’t imagine she’ll be back for a while.” She moved toward the steps, but a body was in her way.
He put a hand on the railing, further blocking her path.
Sabrina hitched her purse strap higher, impatient to pass. Impatient to hide in her apartment.
“I came to see you,” he said. Those eyes said things that held hers captive.
She cleared her throat and tore her gaze away. “You saw me this morning.”
“I wanted to talk about the other night.”
Oh, boy
. She didn’t want to go there. “I—uh—I was going to—”
Go for a jog
.
Wash my hair. Organize my sock drawer.
“It’ll just take a minute.” He shuffled his cap in his hands, turning it in clockwise circles. He was nervous?
Well, he should be. He was the one who—“Sit down a minute? Please?”
At one glimpse of his baby blues, her mouth went dry. So not fair. Her trembling legs gave way, and she settled beside him. His shoulder bumped hers as he sat, and she edged sideways, which put her knees against his thigh. She shifted again.
Get through this. Hear him out. It’ll be over in a few minutes, and you’ll be pounding the pavement in no time.
“I know this is . . . awkward . . .”
You think?
“But I’d rather address it and move forward than pretend there’s no white elephant in the room.”
Sabrina clutched her bag in her lap and watched an ant traverse the step below them. White elephants were underrated.
“The other night I—” He raked his hand through his hair like he might find the rest of the words in there somewhere. “I know you must be confused by what happened.”
The kiss flashed in her mind, along with all the feelings it had evoked: desire, tenderness, joy. She had to stop this.
“I’m not sorry,” he said in that deep voice that made her miss all those other things email lacked.
He was looking at her, but she was not going to look back. She wasn’t. She’d be lost if she did. The other night, darkness had veiled her emotions, but now it was daylight, and she didn’t know if she could conceal her thoughts. She was weak, fresh from the memory of that kiss.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I can’t explain why I kissed you. But I don’t regret it.”
The words brought a mixture of relief and fear and confusion. He couldn’t explain? It made no sense. If he were in love with Sweetpea/Arielle, shouldn’t he be sorry? Wouldn’t his actions make him a first-rate jerk? Yet, she knew Tucker, and that description didn’t fit. Not by a long shot.
“I’m sorry for the confusion I’ve caused. I want to be friends, and my only regret is that I’ve made things awkward between us.”
Friends? Is that what they were? And what would happen when Arielle went home? Or would Tucker ask her cousin to stay? What reason could Arielle give for refusing to see him again, and where would that leave their online relationship? Why did this have to be so confusing?
“Sabrina?”
She had to focus. “Yes?” The black ant was hauling a chunk of something half the size of its body. Probably taking it home to feed its family of five.
Tucker bumped her shoulder, playfully.
She looked at him and fell smack into his shadowed blue eyes. As if the sight of him awakened her other senses, she became aware of his musky cologne, of his hip grazing hers. Have mercy. She could almost taste the kiss they’d shared, feel the tenderness of his lips as they brushed hers.
Now, she watched as those lips parted, as if he were fixing to speak. Her gaze flitted back to his eyes. Yes, he was about to say something. Something important.
She felt herself being pulled in, and she went willingly, all her fight draining away.
And then a memory. The smell of cigarette smoke, the taste of alcohol, the sound of a sheet ripping clear of a mattress.
She cleared her throat and broke eye contact. “Everything’s fine, Tucker. Thanks for stopping by.” She stood and clutched her bag to her stomach like a leather shield. “I’ll have Arielle call when she returns.”
She brushed past him, her feet taking the steps quickly as if she were late for an appointment. She heard Tucker’s quiet goodbye in the beat between steps and wished her own life crisis could be tweaked and reworked like the plot of one of Renny’s stories.
Sweetpea: Why is it so hard to get back on track once something has derailed? Your faith journey, your relationships, your career . . . sometimes it seems like the impossible task.
Sabrina toweled off, then slipped into her favorite capris and a button-down blouse. She cleared the fog from the mirror and ran a comb through her wet hair. Arielle had been gone when she’d returned from work, probably out buying something else for the loft. The air smelled of paint, and the kitchen walls were still damp.
Sabrina surveyed the pale yellow she’d approved several days ago. It was drying to a nice buttery color. Arielle had worked hard to get it painted over the weekend.
The furniture had been rearranged again too. Sabrina frowned as she surveyed the room. Maybe she would get used to it.
She shook the thought and checked the time. Sabrina thought she and Arielle might go to ’Sconset to see the village and take a stroll along the Bluff Walk. Arielle would love the doll-sized houses in ’Sconset and the tiny picturesque gardens. It was Sabrina’s favorite part of the island.
They could make sandwiches and take a picnic up to Sankaty Head Lighthouse. It was the least she could do after all the work her cousin had done. Arielle hadn’t seen much of the island and, although she hadn’t complained, it seemed a waste. Maybe on her next day off they could go out to Altar Rock for a view of the moors, cranberry bogs, and harbor. It was Sabrina’s favorite view from the island.
Sabrina worked her hair quickly into a ponytail. It would be nice to spend time with her cousin. And with Jaylee’s wedding looming only a few weeks out, she needed the wedding details so she could mentally prepare.
Between the frustration of Renny’s disclosure and her confusion at Tucker’s declaration of love, the idea of escaping the house, getting away from work, and hanging with her cousin appealed.
In the kitchen, she fished the deli roast beef from the fridge and made a quick sandwich for herself. She filled a pita with the deviled tofu Arielle made the day before, wrinkling her nose at the tangy smell and chunky texture. A wedge of cheese and a bag of chips rounded out the meal. She bagged it and set it in the fridge; then, as she closed the door, she heard Arielle enter the loft.
Her cousin rounded the corner, her ponytail swinging and her cheeks flushed.
She set a bag on the counter. “It is so gorgeous out there! I found a couple cute baskets at a shop in town,” Arielle said.
“Thanks.” Sabrina pulled the two Nantucket baskets from the bag, one a tightly woven cane with cherrywood rims, the other a door hanger basket in a pleasant honey color. “I like them.” She set the baskets to the side, then poured two glasses of iced tea.
“Thanks.” Arielle gulped half the glass at once. “Say, is Renny all right? I saw her on my way in, and she was raking the same patch of mulch over and over. She didn’t even respond when I said hello.”
Sabrina told Arielle about her confrontation with Renny over the manuscripts.
“She’s been stuffing her stories in a drawer all this time? But isn’t she paying you?”
“Indirectly. She lets me stay here in return for my help.”
“What does that mean for you? Aren’t you two pretty close?”
“I’m not worried about the apartment. Renny wants me to stay.”
Sabrina rinsed her glass and set it in the sink. “What exasperates me is that she doesn’t recognize her own talent. You know I don’t dish out undeserved compliments, but that woman can write.” Sabrina slapped the counter with her palm. “It’s so frustrating. But at least now I know the problem isn’t with a bunch of incompetent editors.”
“No, it’s a crazy writer who doesn’t believe in herself.”
“Apparently.”
“Can’t you send the stories?”
“I was going to. Renny went postal on me.” She’d thought Renny was going to rip her arm off when she reached for those manuscripts. “And she’s right. It’s not my place. I can’t make her want to risk rejection.”
A thoughtful silence settled between them. Maybe with time Renny would find the courage to send her manuscripts. Sabrina had done all she could, and she’d have to let it go.