My breath catches. Kai coming to Tony’s house to pick me up feels risky. Then again, we’re friends from college. That’s what everyone — Tony included — believes. Maybe it’s not that weird for him to pick me up here.
ISABELLE: Okay.
KAI: Cool. See you in an hour?
KAI: Wait. Where does coach live…
Just less than an hour later, I’m standing nervously near the front door, peering out the window every few seconds to see if Kai’s here.
Inwardly, I’m rolling my eyes at my nerves. It’s not like we’re going on some romantic outing, it’s a public market, for goodness’ sake.
Then again, it’s Kai.
And the more time we spend together, the harder it’s going to be to leave him again in a few months.
I see his car pull up with a low rumble, and step back to take in a few slow, deep breaths. We’re…friends. This is fine.
But good God, does he have to be so sexy? Even in jeans and a hoodie, with a ball cap on his head, he’s just…yeah.
I open the door before he has a chance to knock and plaster a sunny smile on my face. “Hey, I hope you’re ready to carry bagsfor me.” I thrust the aforementioned reusable shopping bags toward him, and he takes them with a chuckle. Turning back to lock the door, I give myself a mental lecture about appropriate behaviour between friends.
Once I’m sure I’ve got myself under a bit more control, I turn back. Kai’s waiting patiently with an easy grin. “Pack animal at your service. Will work for food.”
“Some things never change,” I tease back.
The drive isn’t too long, about twenty minutes or so. I’m thankful Kai doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill it with chatter, instead, we leave the radio on and sit in a relatively comfortable silence.
Granville Island is a really unique place. I can’t stop staring out the window in wonder as the road winds down underneath a bridge, to reveal a colourful building that I think houses the indoor market, and many more low buildings with lots of boutique stores I can’t wait to explore.
The parking gods are on our side as Kai finds a spot close to the center of the island.
“Wait, is it really an island?” I ask as we get out and I continue to look around. “We never crossed over any water.”
“Don’t think so,” Kai replies, coming around the car to stand at my side. “Pretty sure it’s attached to the mainland, kinda like a bit of land that just sticks out. But Granville Island sounds better than Granville land that sticks out.”
“That’s true.” I grin, and we set off.
“Market first or exploring first? Don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing some of those stores.”
“Definitely exploring first.” I immediately start walking in the direction of a glassblowing studio. There’s an artist working, the orange glow from the forge as mesmerizing as the globe of glass he’s spinning. We stand and watch him for a while before goinginto the adjacent shop and looking at the pieces for sale. They’re all stunning, and it’s hard to leave without buying everything.
The next store is a clothing boutique, which we skip, then an outdoor outfitter, and then a charter boat company. We make our way around, stopping in at a few more artisans and gift shops, before Kai’s stomach starts to growl loud enough that I can hear it even over the loud squawks of seagulls.
“Seriously? Did you skip breakfast or something?” I tease as he rubs his chest with a rueful grin.
“No, but I normally have a second breakfast.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s go feed you and your bottomless pit of a stomach.”
We make our way to the actual market building, and I’m instantly transported back to Italy. To the open-air markets I love to visit with all the old nonnas shouting over one another, haggling prices for fresh seafood. The smell of herbs or fresh bread or beautiful flowers, the colourful crowds and even more colourful displays of produce.
“This is amazing,” I say, and Kai moves his hand up to my lower back. I let him guide me through the stalls, chuckling as I stumble more than once because my neck is craning to allow me see everything.
“Food first, then you can wander to your heart’s content.”
Reluctantly, I let him lead me away from the market, and into a different part of the building, filled with prepared food stalls. He goes straight to one, a French patisserie from the looks of it, and orders two coffees and some pastries.
I shouldn’t be surprised when I take a sip of the one he hands me, but I am. “Is that orange?”