by B. E. Baker
“Uh yeah,” the girl next to me says. “A total hottie.”
I turn to see two girls laying on towels ogling a guy headed our way. When I follow their eye line, it’s Rob. Of course it is. He’s carrying the pieces of Gladys gracefully, striding toward me quickly. When he notices I’ve seen him, he beams at me and waves. He doesn’t even seem to notice all the female heads that turn toward him as he walks over.
“Here we are,” he says.
I reach for Gladys, but he stops me. “Uh, nuh-uh. I need to learn so I’ll be fast if I’m ever going to be helpful, and guys need to be helpful, remember?”
I glance around at all the people watching us. He assembles Gladys like a pro, but then I point out the issue. “And now we’re here, on the sand, and the bathroom is over there.” I point. “How are you going to get me and Gladys from here to there?”
“If you’re not worried about theft, I could carry her over, and then carry you over.” His voice rises at the end of the statement, almost making it a question.
Am I worried someone will steal my custom, tiny wheelchair? Not really, no.
“That’s fine, but it seems like a lot of work.” And now every single person here at the beach knows I’m a freak and they’re staring. Check out the weirdo and her bizarrely hot boyfriend. ‘Maybe it’s her brother’ they think. Which explains the flirty smiles and waves they keep shooting his direction.
Not that Rob has even noticed any of it.
“Or, wait, look.” Rob collapses Gladys sideways and she folds in half. “I’m clearly a novice. I should have assembled her at the car and carried her over this way. I’m sorry, but I will improve, I swear.”
I shrug. He’s already learning fast.
“Funny story. I babysat for my sister Jennifer recently. Her son Liam is the cutest toddler, and she was pregnant with her second, and she had to rush to the doctor’s office for a UTI. Her husband was out of town and my mom had the flu. Long story. Anyway, I swung by her house and picked up Liam. I got a car seat, a stroller, a high chair and like three bags of crap. At first I couldn’t figure out up from down. I ended up putting the stroller in my truck fully assembled. I had to lash it down so it didn’t fly out. But I ended up having Liam for two days. By the end of that time, I looked like his dad. I could collapse that whole stroller with a button. I slid him in and out of the high chair like a champ.”
He’s comparing me to a baby.
“You look annoyed right now, and I get it. I’m not saying I’m babysitting you. My point was that I didn’t know how to use any of that stuff, but once I got past the steep learning curve, it was a snap. If you can be patient with me like a teensy bit, I swear, trips like this will be super fun. I just need to get the hang of it. I’m willing if you are.”
I hate being compared to a toddler he babysat. I hate needing his help. I hate being an invalid.
But none of that is Rob’s fault.
I nod. “Totally, it’s fine.”
He leans over then and kisses me. Slowly, mesmerizingly. I’m breathless when he finally pulls away. “You hate being dependent on anyone else because you are so strong. You’re a force of nature in a tiny little frame. A tempest in a teapot is a phrase I never understood until I met you. But sometimes the best things in life require us to do them with others. You can’t do anything on a teeter-totter if you’re alone. Let me do my part, and try not to hate me for doing it.”
I reach for him, and he flips around so I can put my arms around his neck. He stands effortlessly, like I’m a rag doll or a, well, a toddler. Then he squats down and snags the side of Gladys and carries her along with us. Once we reach the hard packed sand, I tap his shoulder.
“You can set me down here.”
He does.
“I’ll text you when I’m done.”
“Oh,” he says. “Smart.”
The entire thing is actually pretty simple. And when I’m done, Rob crouches down so I can hop on his back, collapses Gladys and stands back up, jouncing me a little up and down as he jogs back to our chairs.
He doesn’t even mention it again. He just sets Gladys next to his chair as if she’s his. Rob pulls sunblock out of his bag and offers me some and a tiny part of me wishes I’d worn shorts. It’s not too hot in the shade, but it might have been nice to get a little sun on my pale, stick legs. I coat my arms and face and pass it back.
He pulls out a medical thriller that doesn’t appeal to me at all and leans back, nose in the book.
I lay back and listen to the surf for a moment, but eventually I crack the book Geo’s been talking about. It’s actually pretty engaging. A few minutes later, Rob pokes me and I realize with a start that the sun is setting.
“Uh, I wouldn’t have given you that book if I realized you’d check out on me entirely,” he says with a half smile.
I grin sheepishly. “Sorry, but Geo was right. The guy is hunky.”
Rob flexes. “But nothing to me, right?”
The mixture of false bravado and boyish insecurity in his eyes melts my heart. How can he not realize that every single girl within two hundred yards walked past us fifteen times hoping to catch his attention? I mean, I didn’t notice while I was reading, but they did it before, so I’m guessing it didn’t stop.
“The fictitious hunk has nothing on you.” I intend sarcasm, but even I can’t hear any in my tone. No one is anything compared to my Rob.
He reaches over and lifts me from my chair, hauling me into his lap again. He smells like sunblock and hot dogs. Wait. “Why do I smell hot dogs?”
“Because I bought some.” He waves two foil wrapped rolls at me. “It was all the stand over there had. I hope you’ll eat them, because the corndogs looked pretty burned, and there isn’t anything else close.” Rob wraps his arms around me and tucks my head under his chin. “Be honest. You didn’t even realize I got up and walked over there.”
“The book was pretty good. What can I say?”
“Oh, well,” he says. “Don’t let me keep you from it.” He lifts me back up like he’s going to dump me in my chair again.
“No, wait. I like it here.” I’m glad he can’t see me blushing.
“You do?”
I snuggle down against him. “I’d have had to stop reading in a few minutes anyway,” I say. “The sun’s almost gone.”
He reaches around my arm to hand me a hotdog. “Here. Eat this. The real show’s about to start.”
I lean back against Rob’s broad, warm chest, feeling the rise and fall of his lungs and the rhythmic thuds of his heart. I eat the disgusting hot dog and think about how I’ll play this day over and over in my head from now on. This perfect, beachy day.
“Thanks for bringing me all the way over here for this sandy nightmare,” I say. “With you along, it really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
I feel his chuckle through my back as well as hearing it. “What a winning endorsement. Clearly my work here is done.”
Kaboom. Fireworks go off over my head, and I turn upward like a tiny child, my heart full of wonder.
“How did you know they’d have fireworks?”
“It’s a tourist thing they’re trying this summer,” he says. “I read it online. They’re trying to draw new people to spend money here.”
“Didn’t work for us.”
Rob grabs my empty hot dog wrapper. “I beg your pardon. I may not be a high roller, but I spent money. I bought hot dogs and rented these chairs.” He tosses the wrappers into the open top of his backpack and leans back, pulling me back against his chest again.
A purr like a contented cat escapes my mouth, and when I glance back at Rob, he meets my eyes knowingly. He wisely doesn’t mention it. When the fireworks finally finish, Rob takes me to the restroom again, and then we head back to the truck. I wish the night didn’t have to end, but eventually even perfect days come to a close.
We talk just as much on the way back home, but when Trig calls Rob to demand he return his sister, I take the chanc
e to email Dr. Anthony and confirm the date of my procedure.
I’ve always been greedy, but I’m not ashamed of my greed this time. Every single person I know would want a million more days just like this if they could get them. And I intend to, no matter the risk.
Rob may have gotten upset the first time I mentioned it, and I may be hiding it from him, which might seem bad, but once it’s done. . . Once I’m fine and I’m gaining mobility, once the stem cells work and I can walk beside him, he will get it. Rob will be as giddy as I am.
I’ll be broken, but not defeated, just like him.
14
Rob
I wake up to a binging sound. I fumble around to silence my phone, until I realize it’s binging because of a text. From Brekka.
THANKS FOR ABDUCTING ME AND SUBJECTING ME TO THE BEACH YESTERDAY.
I rub my bleary eyes and grin like a halfwit. SO YOU HAD FUN?
I TOLD TRIG TO JUST PICK HAWAII ALREADY, AS LONG AS YOU’LL BE THERE WITH ME.
With me. I read the words several times, and each time I feel the same surge in my chest.
Until I remember that I told Geo I’d help with her mom. I’ll figure something out. I WOULDN’T MISS IT.
WILL YOU BE SAD?
Sad? I’ve never been to Hawaii, but I can’t think why I’d be sad. ABOUT WHAT EXACTLY?
She sends me a heart eyes emoji. I’m not sure what that means. Does it mean she loves something or she sees something she likes? Or does it mean she’s happy? And how would that in any way address my statement that I didn’t understand her question?
Women make no sense sometimes.
I type, I HOPE MAYBE YOU’LL TRY SHORTS AT THE WEDDING. OR A DRESS, AT LEAST. Then I get nervous that she will take it wrong and delete it without hitting send. Instead, I text, HEADED HOME TODAY? OR ARE YOU STICKING AROUND?
I’M AT THE AIRPORT NOW, WAITING TO TAKE OFF.
I sink back in my pillows and pull a blanket over my head. Why now? BOO, I finally text back.
Heart eyes again. It’s like her favorite emoji. I really need to find out what it means.
I MAY NEED TO HIRE A TEXT INTERPRETER.
WHY?
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE YELLOW FACE WITH HEARTS FOR EYES MEANS.
Laughing faces, a whole line of them. Great. She thinks I’m stupid.
I head for the shower. When I’m out and dressed, I see that she has replied.
TAKING OFF, she texts, BUT I HOPE I DIDN’T HURT YOUR FEELINGS. I FORGET SOMETIMES THAT NOT EVERYONE SPEAKS TEENAGE GIRL. I TEXT WITH GEO A LOT, AND TRIG’S NEARLY AS BAD.
Then she sent a heart eyes emoji.
IT MEANS I LOVE SOMETHING I’VE SEEN, USUALLY A TEXT REPLY. I WAS GLAD YOU’RE NOT SAD GEO’S GETTING MARRIED. THEN I WAS GLAD YOU WERE SAD I’M LEAVING. I HAVE TO GO, BUT I WISH I COULD STAY. IT’S JUST THAT I ALREADY MISSED A TON OF MEETINGS.
THANKS, I text back. YOU SAVED ME $199. I WAS ABOUT TO ENROLL FOR REMEDIAL TEXTING 101, AN ONLINE COURSE.
We text off and on all day, which vastly improves my outlook at work. Even my secretary notices.
Trig calls me while I’m driving home. To say he doesn’t call very often would be an understatement. In that regard, dating his sister has moved our relationship ahead by leaps and bounds. I’m hearing from His Royal Highness almost daily. “Hello?”
“Hey Rob. I wanted to see if you’d made any progress on our special project.”
“Are you with Geo right now?” Because if he is, why is he calling me? And if he’s not, why not just call it the jewelry box?
“No, she’s working. Why?”
“Never mind. Yeah, it’s almost done. I’ve got someone coming over tomorrow to show me some samples for the ring cushion and inner lining. I tried doing it myself, but it’s definitely not my forte. I hope this will go better. It should match Geo’s eyes. He brought three different cobalt blue linings, and I picked the one I think you’ll like best.”
“Sweet. Could I come see it? I’m with the jeweler now, trying to design a few things to put inside, and I want to know what the space looks like.”
“Wait, we still have at least a month, right?”
“Yep, we finally settled on the weekend of July Fourth.”
“Oh good. You had me sweating there for a minute.”
“Jewelers take their sweet time on custom stuff, that’s all.”
“Then sure, you’re welcome to take a look. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes. Meet me whenever.”
“If you’re hungry, I can pick up some burgers.”
I frown. This feels like some new Geo directed initiative to make Trig and Rob friends. “Are you sure Geo’s not there twisting your arm?”
Trig laughs. “I’ll be sure to tell them extra mayo.” He hangs up.
I hate mayo, so that makes me smile. Business as usual.
Trig shows up later with a burger doused in mayo, but he brings me a large fry. It almost evens out. “Thanks for dinner.”
He shrugs. “Thanks for being willing to make me something that will have some extra meaning to her.”
“I’m happy to help.”
“If I like the lining color, when will it be ready?”
“Another two weeks, probably. Better it’s right than fast. I’m not McDonald’s, after all.”
Trig smirks. “I certainly hope not. But after today, I’ll know. Let’s see this thing.”
I head for my shop and Trig stomps along after me, slurping on his soda. The sound annoys me, but I don’t say a word. I’m not as irritated as I’d usually be. Geo would be giddy at that news.
“This place is huge,” Trig says when he follows me through the door of my shop.
“Bigger than my house,” I admit.
“Not hard to do,” Trig mutters.
Trig winds around the furniture as we walk over to the jewelry box. Except, I realize he’s not behind me anymore and turn around. “Hello? It’s over here.”
He’s running his hand down the side of a small, dark wood chest of drawers I made to go with a crib. Is Trig one of those guys who are freaked out about the idea of having children? “Uh, Earth to Trig.”
His head snaps my way. “Sorry. I got a little distracted. What did you say?”
“I said the jewelry box is over here by me.” I point.
He takes a few steps toward me and looks at the crib as though he hadn’t even noticed it. He runs his finger down the side post.
“Freaked out by the idea of having kids?”
Trig’s head whips toward me again. “Kids? No, not at all. I love the little boogers. We babysit for Luke and Mary all the time.”
“What’s up with you being all dazed and loopy, then? Are you high?”
Trig opens his mouth and then closes it and then opens it again. “So the thing is, I have trouble saying good things about you. You know, without at least qualifying them or making it into a joke.”
“Uh huh. I’ve noticed,” I say.
“And I love when I can get a good jab in.”
I nod. “Yep. Also true.”
“You don’t even seem to mind so much.”
I shrug. “I’ve got thick enough skin.”
“But this furniture.” He waves his hand around the room.
I swallow even though I don’t need to. I’m inexplicably nervous about what he’ll say next. I brace myself for something snarky, something barbed. Or maybe even something downright rude.
“You have, what? A hundred pieces in here? A hundred and fifty?”
“I don’t keep an inventory. Probably over a hundred, yeah.” He thinks I’m insane. Like a little old lady who suffocates under her own pile of crocheted baby hats and newspaper clippings, except in my case, a carved wooden chair leg will impale me.
“It’s all staggeringly good. Like, the hair on my arms is rising right now, as though I’m in the presence of greatness. How have you not sold any of this already? Geo said the desk you brought for her mom was amazing, but I sort of figured she was being nice. She and
Paisley loaded it up and took it over right away, she was so excited to give it to her mom.”
I have no idea what to say, but then something occurs to me. “You didn’t come over to see what jewelry might fit.”
Trig’s face turns red.
“You came over to see if you needed to buy something else instead, and give yourself enough time to do it if you needed to.”
“Who cares why I came? The point is, you need to quit your dumb car management job and do this all the time.”
I shake my head. “I have no idea who would even buy any of it.”
“Me,” Trig says. “I’ll buy all of it. But I imagine you would do better, like, auctioning it off. And then I wouldn’t have to feel horribly guilty for swindling my soon-to-be wife’s best friend.”
If it really is good, maybe I could hold a charity auction. Clive’s warm smile flashes through my mind. “I actually have an idea. You might be able to help me with it.”
“What’s that?” Trig asks.
“You have a lot of rich friends, right?”
Trig nods. “I guess so. You know Luke and Paul too, and they’re well off. And as connected as I am, or close.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out for a while how to fund an idea for a charity,” I say. “I wonder if this might be a good way to get it off the ground.”
“A charity?” Trig’s eyebrows rise. “Why in the world would you do that? Then you don’t get any of the money.”
“That’s kind of what charity means, yes.”
“That’s great, but maybe split the proceeds at least. I mean, you’ve got to have something to live on.”
“I know a half a million a year is nothing to you,” I say, “but I live pretty well on that. I do a decent job at my family’s business. I can afford to donate everything I make in my free time.”
“Why wouldn’t you quit that job and do this all the time?” Trig taps the shelf of a bookcase. “This is clearly your calling, and I don’t say that lightly.”
“I can’t leave my family in the lurch like that. Trust me, there’s no one else who can take my place. I’ve asked.”
