by C. Morgan
“I suppose that might be true, but I think it also depends on how you treat a person. I know you are not uppity, and you would never lord it over him.”
“No, but Fulton is a very manly man. He likes taking care of me.”
“And you like it as well.”
“I do, which is why I would never want to do anything to insult his pride. I’m afraid he would always feel like he had to try harder to impress me. He’s a good man but I don’t think I can handle a relationship right now.”
“I call bullshit.”
“Kerri,” I said with a frown. “I don’t have time.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve been making all kinds of time to spend with him. I have to say I was a little surprised that you were willing to sacrifice so much of your time. I thought you would be living and breathing the restaurant. It’s good that you haven’t. Don’t start doing it now.”
She was right. “I know I’m going to miss him,” I confessed.
“Then don’t miss him. Talk to him. Find a way to make it right.”
“I don’t know. I think I really screwed up. I denied him right to his face. I let my father treat him like shit and I did nothing to defend him. I wouldn’t want to be with me if the situation was reversed. I saw the look on his face. He did a good job of hiding it, but I know I hurt him something terrible.”
“I’m sure it did sting a little, but Fulton is a tough guy. He was obviously very into you. If you apologize and find a way to make it right, I am sure he will want you back.”
I did want him. I wanted him more than I even realized until just that moment. “I’m going to try.”
“Don’t try. Do.”
“Easier said than done. You’ve met Fulton. He isn’t exactly a pushover.”
“But he seemed pretty soft on you. Work your magic. Buy some sexy lingerie and show up at his house wearing just that.”
I rolled my eyes. “That could be a little awkward parading through the neighborhood in lingerie.”
“You’re supposed to wear a trench coat silly.”
“Oh, I see. I didn’t realize there were rules to this.”
“Go big, or go home single,” she said with a laugh. “I have no doubt in my mind you will think of a way to win him back. Go after your man.”
Her pep talk was exactly what I needed. I would fight for him. I would grovel. Fulton deserved so much better than what I had done last night. I would never make that mistake again—if he gave me another chance.
Chapter 35
Fulton
The phone rang and I let it go to voicemail. There had been a couple of calls from Amara, but she never left a voicemail. If she wanted to apologize, she could save herself the trouble. I didn’t want to hear it. Today, I was going to do nothing but sulk and bang things with my hammer. I had fished enough the last two days to make sure Stanley and I both got to eat and pay another month’s mortgage.
Stanley was bugging me about something. I had told him last night we weren’t going out today. Apparently, he didn’t hear me. I had exactly one friend. It shouldn’t be this hard to get some alone time. I kept a tight, very small social circle for a reason. I didn’t need a large group when I had Stanley.
He was probably going to ask me to go to the gym and workout with him. He was really into the losing-weight thing. I was happy for him but the last thing I wanted to do on my day off was lift weights or run. I worked my ass off every other day of the week.
I was sitting at my dining table, spacing out and thinking about her when I heard my front door open. I jumped up, wearing just my underwear, ready to kick the shit out of anyone who made the stupid decision to break into my house.
“What the fuck?” I asked when I saw Stanley standing in the doorway.
“You’re naked.”
I looked down at my bare chest. “I’m not naked. I have underwear on.”
“Why in the hell are you sitting around in your underwear?” he asked with genuine confusion. The door was still open and anyone was welcome to check out the show.
“Because I can. Shut the fucking door.”
“Dude, put some clothes on. You’re making me blush.”
“What are you doing here? And why are you walking in?”
“Because you didn’t answer your phone.”
“So you thought you would use the key I gave you for emergencies only?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you were dead.”
“I’m not dead.”
“Will you put some clothes on?” he asked with exasperation. “You’re flaunting your body. It isn’t nice. You know I’m trying to lose a few pounds.”
“I’m not flaunting shit. I was sitting at my table, enjoying a cup of coffee in the privacy of my home. My locked home, I might add.”
Because there was no point in arguing with him, I stalked to my bedroom and pulled on a pair of basketball shorts. When I walked back into the kitchen, he was helping himself to a cup of coffee.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I came to see if you wanted to go fishing,” he said nonchalantly.
“I told you yesterday and again last night I wasn’t going out today.”
“Not for lobster. Just fishing. I’m craving fish.”
“Go buy it at the store or down at the market.”
“That is not the same and you know it.”
“I don’t feel like fishing,” I told him.
He sat down at the table, pretty much letting me know he was there to stay. I took my seat again. He could stare at me all he wanted. I wasn’t interested in fishing. I wasn’t interested in anything.
Three days later and her words were still echoing through my head.
“All right, I get it. She fucked you over. It happens. It is time to put on your big-girl panties and get on with it.”
“I don’t want to fish.”
“You can’t sit here and wallow. You are not like that.”
“Apparently, I am,” I shot back.
“Are you seriously trying to tell me you are going to let some girl with a rich daddy that doesn’t like your redneck, trashy ass around ruin your life?”
I glared at him. “She isn’t just some girl and I’m not a redneck.”
“Shit, you’re just as much of a redneck as I am. Don’t try to deny it. I warned you her daddy was richer than God.”
“I thought you were wrong.”
“When have I ever been wrong?”
I gave him a dry look. “Really?”
“Okay, I’ve been wrong a couple of times.”
“Just a couple?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t wrong here.”
“Nope, you weren’t, and I am an idiot. There. Is that better?”
“Great, now can you finish getting dressed and we can get out of here. It’s a gorgeous day out. Put your little six-pack away and we’ll stop and get a real six-pack.”
“Stanley, grab a pole and go down to the lake. I really don’t want to go out.”
“Does it hold bad memories?” he asked.
I stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The boat. Yesterday, you were talking about the fish she caught. I saw the look on your face. You were all gooey and shit.”
“I sometimes wonder why we are friends,” I muttered.
“Because no one else likes you, including your rich girl’s daddy. I don’t know why you’re all up in arms over this one. You’ve been dumped before. Lots of women have kicked you to the curb when they realized you could never buy them fancy things.”
“No, they haven’t, and she isn’t just some girl. Amara is different.”
“Clearly, she isn’t if she dumped your ass because you are a broke fool.”
“You’re really doing a great job here. I was feeling shitty before, but boy, all your compliments are really making it better.”
“I’m trying to make you see that there are other fish in the sea. You just need to get your ass up and ou
t there to catch them.”
I looked at him. “Are you still talking about fishing?”
“No. It’s a saying. There are a million other women out there.”
“I know it’s a saying, but sometimes, I never know with you.”
“You’ll find another woman. This time, you know what you are looking for and what you need to stay away from. Maybe you could ask a potential girlfriend for her tax returns. See if you are compatible. That way, we don’t have another one of these situations.”
As crazy as it sounded, he made a good point. “I don’t want another girl. I want her. She was supposed to be mine. She was the one.”
“Obviously, she didn’t feel the same way. I hate to say I told you so, but I did. I told you she probably didn’t feel the same way. If you watched more TV, you would know this is how it goes. Did you tell her you were in love with her?”
“No!” I practically shouted. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you said you were going to tell her how you felt.”
“I never said I was in love with her.”
He shrugged a beefy shoulder. “You didn’t have to. I know you are. Or were. Are.”
“Fat lot of good that did me,” I muttered. “You were right. I should have kept my distance. She was never going to want to be with a guy like me. I was an idiot for believing I had a chance. I really thought she was someone different. She played me. I’ll admit it.”
“Sorry, man. I really am. It isn’t cool. I told you we should have charged her full price for those lobsters.”
“You’re right again. Who would have thought you would be right twice in the same week? But I’m glad I didn’t tell her how I felt. That would have been a lot worse. At least this way, I get to hold on to a little bit of my pride.”
He shook his head. “It really is too bad, but what can you do? Wait. I know exactly what you can do.”
“Stanley,” I groaned.
“Come on. A little fishing is exactly what you need. We’ll go out, get some fish, and come back here and cook them up and drink a lot of beer.”
That was appealing. “Jack,” I said.
He patted his chest with his hand. “Stanley. You, Fulton.”
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “Fine. I’ll grab a shirt.”
“Thank god. If I have to stare at your tits any longer, I might have to fight Amara for you.”
I stopped walking and turned back to look at him. “You’re an odd duck, Stanley. Like really odd.”
He didn’t seem bothered in the least by my comment. I pulled on a shirt, a pair of socks, and my worn tennis shoes. I grabbed my baseball hat and went back out to see what Stanley was getting into. Fortunately, he was still at the table. Sometimes, I just couldn’t take my eyes off him. He found some very creative ways to bug the shit out of me, like loosening the lid on my salt shaker or leaving something right on the edge of the top of my fridge so it landed on me when I opened it.
“Let’s go before I change my mind,” I told him.
He hopped up. “We’ll take your truck.”
“Of course, we will.”
We stopped by a convenience store and grabbed some drinks and snacks before heading out to the boat. We each carried our bag of goodies, tackle boxes, and poles. We were talking about the weather as we walked down the dock. I stopped walking and stared at the empty slip.
“What the hell?” Stanley said.
I looked up and down the rows. “What the fuck?”
“Where’s the boat?” he asked.
“How the fuck should I know?” I snapped. I started moving farther down the dock, my eyes scanning the boats that were tied up. I knew my boat. It kind of stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Did you tie it up yesterday?” Stanley asked from behind me.
“You tied it up!”
“Oh yeah, I did.”
I spun around. “Did you? Are you certain?”
“Yes, I’m certain. I tied it up.”
I walked to where he was still standing in front of the empty slip. “You have got to be shitting me.”
“What do you think happened?” he asked.
Because I still couldn’t quite believe it was gone, I peered over the edge of the dock, trying to see if maybe the damn thing had finally sunk. I didn’t see anything obvious, but that didn’t mean anything. “Fuck!” I shouted at the sky. Who the hell did I piss off to get dumped and have my boat stolen in the same week?
“You think someone stole it?” Stanley asked with confusion.
“Well, I don’t think it sank. Someone would have called.”
“Why in the hell would they steal your old, ugly-ass boat?”
“I don’t know, Stanley, but someone did.”
“Huh,” he said. “Well, ain’t that some shit.”
“It’s certainly something.”
“What do we do?”
“I suppose we should call the police.”
“What about work?”
“Do you have a floatie?” I snapped as I started the trek back to my truck.
“Why?”
“Because that’s about the only way we’re going to be fishing for lobster!”
The ramifications of the situation were sinking in. I was doing my best not to panic, but it was hard. I had just lost my livelihood. If I couldn’t fish, I couldn’t support myself. The insurance was not going to be nearly enough to replace the boat. I groaned thinking about all of the equipment that I would have to replace as well.
Who in the hell stole an old boat from a hardworking man? That was next-level lowlife. I tossed the pole and shit in the back of the truck, slapping my open hand against the hood as I pulled out my phone. When it rained, it poured. That was something my mom used to say. I always thought she was talking about the weather. I had a new understanding of what that phrase meant. I seemed to be standing in the center of the biggest, darkest cloud on the planet. All the shit was falling on me.
Chapter 36
Amara
I finished unpacking the last box and broke it down, adding it to the pile. I looked around my apartment and felt a little more settled. It was anxiety and nerves that fueled my sudden need to unpack and tidy up my place. My life was a hot mess, which made me want to fix up my apartment. I needed to be organized. I needed to do something, or I was going to drive myself crazy.
I had yet to talk to Fulton. I wasn’t surprised. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to talk to me either. I told myself he needed a couple of days to cool down. Once he got over the initial sting, he would be more willing to listen to my apology—I hoped.
Before I could talk to Fulton and give him the speech I had been preparing in my head the last couple of days, I needed to talk with my parents. I was putting it off, but it was time. The longer I waited, the more the problem festered.
I picked up my phone, butterflies in my stomach as I called my mom. “Hey,” I said, doing my best to sound light and breezy.
“Hi, hon, what are you doing?”
“Are you home?”
“I am.”
“Is Dad home?”
“Yes, why? What’s going on?”
I licked my dry lips. An attack of cottonmouth was making it difficult to speak. I had to get the words out. “Will you be there for a while?”
“Amara, is everything okay?”
“Yes, fine. I was going to stop by. Is that okay?”
“Of course! I just made cookies for a bake sale. We’ll cheat and snack on some.”
I smiled as fond memories of doing exactly that bubbled up. “Okay. I’ll be over in half an hour.”
“We’ll see you then.”
I ended the call and put my phone down before wiping my sweaty palms on my shorts. It had to be done. I could do this. I was a twenty-two-year-old woman. I wasn’t a little girl. I could tell my parents when something bothered me. I was happy we had a good relationship, but it wasn’t going to stay that way if the interfering continued. I just needed to say it. I
would be tactful and respectful, but it needed saying.
I grabbed my purse and left. I recited over and over what I was going to say the entire drive out to their house. When I walked into the house, it felt very different. Usually, my childhood was warm and inviting. It was my safe place. It didn’t feel like that anymore. I felt like I didn’t belong. Like I was an outsider that did not deserve to cross into the hallowed space.
“Mom?” I called, making my way to the kitchen.
“In here,” she said from the living room.
I followed her voice and found them both sitting in the living room. I looked at my father, who was working on his laptop. He looked guilty. He should. After Fulton left, I had told him how disappointed I was in his behavior. He was convinced he was doing it all for me.
“Amara,” he said and closed the laptop. “What’s going on?”
“I want to talk to you. Both of you.”
“Have a cookie, dear,” my mother offered.
“Thanks, maybe later.” I sat down in one of the chairs and turned it so I could face them both.
“This looks serious,” my mom teased. “Are we going to be grandparents?” She laughed.
My father almost choked. “I certainly hope not. There’s no ring on that finger. If that man—”
I held up my hand. “Stop. I’m not pregnant, but even if I was, I’m old enough to make that choice for myself.”
“Amara, don’t joke about something like that,” my mother scolded. “You are so young. You are not ready for a child.”
“Okay, let me stop you right there. Do you know how old I am?”
“Of course, dear. I gave birth to you. I was there.”
“Then for the love of god, stop treating me like I’m a two-year-old!”
My mom put her hand to her heart. “Amara!”
“Dad, did you tell her what you did?”
“Hank, what did you do?” she scolded.
“Dad thought it would be okay to insult and attempt to humiliate a man I care about. He made some very wrong assumptions about him because he isn’t wealthy.”
