[photo by Kristina Kutlesa from Unsplash]

Leni

The huge, puffy raincloud is starting to weep. So I'm not surprised when Topher stops backing his Jeep out of our driveway to roll down his window. "Are you all right?" he calls.

"Yes." I make a vague gesture toward the house, meaning I'm not eager to go back inside.

Not that he'd understand. As soon as we came out, I apologized for Dee, bombarding him with personal questions. Topher promised he hadn't minded—a believable promise considering he answered them all. Apparently it was only me who felt uncomfortable with the inquisition.

When Dee asked if he had any siblings, I nearly choked on a swallow of wine. But it was his answer that spurned the nagging presence in my chest. And not because he said no. It was the part he volunteered after that: his mother has some kind of medical issue that means she was lucky to have him.

"I'll see you on Friday then," Topher says. "May I request we go someplace other than the beach?"

"Seriously?" I grimace. "May I remind you that we live on an island?"

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. Now go home and get some sleep."

"Right," he says with a skyward glance. "As soon as I see you out of the storm."

I turn toward the house, raising my hand in a wave. Then watch from the mudroom window until his Jeep turns onto the highway. Dee is no doubt waiting in the kitchen—and I'm dying to talk about our evening. But I'd prefer to do it when she's a little less tipsy.

Not much chance of that happening, but I can stall a bit longer. I open the dryer, pull out a yellow towel and hug it to my chest. It smells like comfort, like every time I was ever wrapped up in Mom's waiting arms. The presence in my chest develops a sharp edge. If she were here...

There's a thud on the opposite side of the interior door. Then another, louder one, right before it swings open, practically catapulting Dee into the cramped room.

The kitchen door isn't nearly as temperamental as the front door, but it has its moments.

"Did he kiss you?" she asks.

"Do you expect me to believe you weren't standing at the window watching?"

Dee's conspiratorial grin is similar to the one she gave me after Topher said he was an only child. "He wanted to kiss you."

Warmth floods my cheeks—and I have to resist an impulse to hide my face in the towel. I allow a long, frustrated groan, though, as I shove it back in the dryer and slam the door.

Dee follows me into the house and past Matt, who is sleeping on the couch again—which is probably the only reason she remains silent until we get to my bedroom.

"I'm serious, Len. There were major sparks flying between the two of you all night."

"No. That's just you, seeing what you want to see."

"It's not. Trust me. I've spent years marveling over how absolutely oblivious you are. John from the aquarium is a prime example. That hottie you kissed in high school is another. I could name a dozen people who've tried to catch your eye over the last ten years and you've always been completely unaffected. Until now."

"My birthmark is the only reason Topher has any—" I hold up a palm. This is not the conversation I want to have. "Do you think he knows my secret? It seemed like it at dinner, right?"

Dee juts out her bottom lip, but her silent protest is mercifully brief. "You mean when he vowed to protect you like he was a knight swearing fealty?"

"Yeah." I can't stop my smile. It was kind of like that.

"I'm not convinced, though," Dee says. "I caught him looking at you a few times after dinner and he seemed so...unresolved."

"No. Yesterday he was unresolved. But I think he's figured it out now. He definitely knows.

"We'll see," Dee says, shrugging. "When are you going to see him again?"

"Friday. But he doesn't want to go to the beach. Where should I take him?"

"That depends." Dee tugs at the edge of my quilt, frowning momentarily at the disheveled state of my bed. Then her eyes return to mine. The conspiratorial grin has returned. "Are you sure you're not attracted to him—not even a little?"

"Why are you even asking? You've already made up your mind."

"I just want you to think about it. Take some time to think about Topher—pay attention to how that makes you feel. Ask yourself why you couldn't stop finding reasons to touch him."

My face goes hot. I wasn't trying to find reasons, but I can't deny it happened. My birthmark's reaction to him was a shock at first. But now it's...

I shake my head—I don't want to think about that.

"And while you're at it," Dee says. "Make sure you've properly digested the part of tonight's conversation where Topher said he was an only child."

"He also said he has more cousins than he can count."

"Do you think you're one of them?"

"I think it's a possible explanation for my birthmark's reaction. Which is why..." I grimace to let her know she's not going to like what I'm about to say. "I might need to show it to him. Maybe. And ask him if..." My stomach goes sour. I haven't really thought this part through. What, exactly, am I going to ask him?

I guess I'll figure that out when I see how he reacts to my birthmark.

Dee's hand covers her own stomach. "I can't say I'm thrilled with the idea of you telling him all your secrets," she says. "But I do think you should let him know you're not attracted to him—if you're absolutely sure you're not. Which for the record, I don't believe because you were totally flirting with him."

"I was not."

"Well. I'd bet large sums of money that he took it that way. So you better give him a heads up. Because he sure doesn't look at you like y'all are related."

★ ★ ★

Any time any part of my conversation with Dee pops into my thoughts, I push it away. But the weight of it occupies my chest: an emotionally fraught lump to rival any other. And by Thursday afternoon—now just a little more than a day before Topher's Jeep will be returning to our driveway—I have to admit that it's probably not the best idea to completely ignore my sister's advice.

But what I really want is a second opinion.

After work I drive straight to the Harbor Marina and pull up to the dock where the Nereus II has been moored for as long as I can remember. I'm surprised to find the fishing trawler parked in its slip—considering the tide is ideal for fishing. I climb out of my truck, my heart jittery as I make my way across the dock. Pop's business partner was not a young man when he bought Mom's share of the boat. But it never occurred to me until now that there might come a day when he'd retire. Or worse.

I tug the rope, bringing the Nereus close enough that I can step onto the deck. The nets are secured but they're damp, which is a good sign. And it smells right, like salt and seaweed and fish that's just short of foul. God, I love that smell.

God. I miss my parents.

The boat sways gently as I make my way to the entrance of the pilothouse. There's a striped cushion perched on the seat of Pop's chair, but other than that everything looks the same. Even the cracks in the worn, black vinyl. I sink into it and clasp the cold metal wheel with both hands. I'd give anything to be able to talk to Pop about Topher.

It's not that I wouldn't listen to Mom if she were still here, but it's a pretty safe bet she'd side with Dee. They agreed most of the time because they liked all the same things: cooking and gardening—and especially romance. But I gravitated to the things Pop liked. He used to tell people it was because he's an Old Salt and I'm part fish. Nobody but our family knew he was only half-joking about the last part.

The back of my neck prickles and I look to the horizon for confirmation. There are a few clouds—enough to make for a beautiful sunset—but the rain won't be here for couple of hours. I scan the cabin windows, making sure they're all closed tight before I vacate Pop's chair.

He made the rule I broke when I stayed around to meet Topher that first day, but I don't think he'd be mad about that now. In his last days, Pop used to list his regrets, which were few. The first, was smoking cigarettes. That, he'd say with an unfiltered Camel wedged between his fingers—and he'd give me a sad smile when I frowned at him. The second, was teaching me to stay away from people. He worried he'd done me a disservice, especially after it was clear Dee and Matt would eventually marry. Pop didn't want his little fish-girl to end up alone.

He'd like Topher—there's no doubt about that—but he wouldn't try to romanticize our situation.

Actually, if Pop were here, asking questions, he'd be disappointed because he would figure out real quick how little I know. I'm doing the same thing Dee is: making assumptions about Topher based on who I want him to be.

And yeah, I should probably follow Dee's advice and make sure he knows my intentions are purely platonic so he doesn't get the wrong idea. "And you should do it before you see him tomorrow," I tell myself.

I make my way back to the dock, checking to make sure all the lines are secure before I walk to the truck. My phone is lying on the bench seat—right where I left it. This would be easier somehow if Topher had reached out to me first, but no such luck. I scroll through the contacts, laughing out loud when I find his. I don't even know Topher's last name.