Leif absorbs this, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm on the table. “That’s…helpful advice.”
“You sound shocked,” I say with a hint of teasing. “I do have useful insights on occasion.”
He straightens. “I didn’t mean?—”
“I know.” I check the time. “I should head back soon.”
“Me, too.” Leif gathers his trash. “Thanks for listening. It helps to talk it through with someone who isn’t in the thick of it.”
The simple acknowledgment warms me, not because he’s grateful, but because he views me as someone worth confiding in.
“Anytime,” I say and mean it.
We stand and walk our trash to the large bin and head out of the tent, but at the dock, my feet resist turning to head back up the path.
“Blake’s coming over again this weekend,” I say, toeing at a rock. “He wants to use my workshop to finish carving a bed frame for Quinn.”
Leif tilts his head, interested rather than surprised by this shift in conversation. “Quinn mentioned that. She’s been drawing designs for him.”
“He’s determined to incorporate every single animal she’s sketched.” I shake my head, picturing Blake’s ambitious plan. “I told him the headboard will end up looking like Noah’s ark, but he’s set on it.”
Leif’s mouth curves upward. “She’ll love that.”
“Jared’s planning to fire up the barbecue,” I continue, keeping my tone casual. “Says the weather report promises one last perfect grilling day before October brings the rain.”
A gull dive bombs a man who made the poor choice to look away from his food, and it gets snatched before the gull takes flight.
“Grady will be there, too,” I add when Leif doesn’t respond, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s nothing fancy, but you’d be welcome if you’re free.”
Leif doesn’t answer right away as he tracks the flight of the gull with its prize across the water. I don’t rush to fill his silenceor push the invitation. He’ll come or he won’t, and either choice is fine.
When his attention returns to me, it looks like he’s come to a decision. “What time?”
“Blake’s coming around eleven.” I adjust my work gloves where they’re tucked into my belt. “Food won’t be ready until three or so. You can come whenever works for you.”
“Should I bring anything?”
I consider this. “Just yourself. And maybe a jacket. If the wind picks up, it gets cold on the patio.”
“That sounds fun.” His shoulders pull back. “I’d like to come.”
“Great.” A wave of relief washes through me. “Well, I should get back,” I say again, gesturing toward the path.
“Of course.” Leif takes a step back. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Saturday,” I confirm.
I turn away, my heart pounding.
This is a casual get-together. Nothing structural has shifted.
So why does it feel like something fundamental has just been set in place?
Chapter Twenty
Leif
Igrip the wine bottle in my left hand, the six-pack of beer dangling from my right, and stand frozen on Emily’s porch.