“So, tell me about the girl,” Emmett says, between sips of his beer. “You’ve been awfully quiet all night.”

I give him an easy grin. “I’ve had some stuff on my mind.”

“I can tell,” he says.

“Tell me about Heather,” I ask, putting the question on him. “I haven’t had an update in a while.”

Emmett sighs, finishes the rest of his beer, and launches into it.

I force myself to be in the moment and listen to him, since he’s been listening to me yammer on about Jackie for so long. The funny thing is, ever since Jackie and I really started seeing each other and sleeping with each other on the regular, I’ve been shutting up more and more.

It’s been two weeks of us screwing around, two weeks of me realizing I’ve fallen in love with her, and I don’t think I want to kiss and tell anymore. I’m in so deep and what I feel I have to keep for just me and her.

Of course I haven’t told Jackie anything yet. In some foolish ways I hope that this will just go away, as if my feelings for her can be locked away in a box, the key tossed into the sea. That’s not going to happen. It’s too strong, too blinding, too binding.

I’m in over my head. There’s no getting around it.

And I can’t seem to stop.

I don’t want to stop.

I haven’t felt like this . . . ever.

Not even with Sasha, someone I grew with over the years.

With Jackie it’s totally different. She might be young, but her soul speaks to mine. Her soul is bright yet weathered, having endured so much and come out of it still willing to shine. With her I can just be myself. I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to guard myself. Maybe I should, but if I did then I couldn’t feel half of what I’m feeling.

As soon as Sasha told me she was leaving me, that she was pregnant with another man’s child, I made a vow inside, whether I knew it at first or not, to never love again. It wasn’t worth the risk. The heartache. The self-loathing and humiliation. I spent so many years with a woman who only grew apart from me and in the end left me all alone.

But as much as I wanted my heart to turn to stone, it couldn’t. It left me with this horrible optimism, like a disease. It made me believe that if I was lucky enough to fall in love again, that I needed to fall in head first and take the plunge. Because what are the odds of continuous heartache?

I know. That’s ridiculous. People get their hearts broken over and over and over again.

But they keep on beating. They keep going. And each time they get stronger. Not a heart made of armor, not a hardened shell. They get stronger because it’s like any muscle. You keep using it and it will grow, and if shit gets rough it will bounce right back.

The heart is nothing if not resilient.

I realize that’s what someone in love would say. That I’m being hopeless about our situation, that I believe that even being with Jackie now and getting my heart broken in the end is worth more than not being with her at all.

And so what if I believe it?

Because what if that’s not how this ends up?

What if she falls in love with me just as I’ve fallen in love with her?

What if I get the chance to take care of her and Ty, and have the family I’ve always needed?

Is it worth throwing that all away on the risk that I might get hurt?

I don’t think so.

Not all.

Even so, I know I have to tread with caution. Everything I’m feeling is not what Jackie is feeling, not even close. I have to tip-toe on eggshells around her because she’s so afraid of this ever being more than what it is.

If it’s because of the job, her parents, so what? I love Ted and Diane but I love Jackie more.

But if it’s because she honestly doesn’t feel anything for me other than the fact that I’m her boss and a good fuck, then . . .

Well, shit.

Worth it or not, I don’t want to think about that.

I sigh internally and force myself to listen to Emmett, become involved in his world. I sip my drink, centering myself back in this bar, and catch up.

Emmett is single. Had a fiancé for a bit until he realized he wasn’t in love with her. He’s been on the market for a while, and while I know he meets lots of actresses and beautiful people because of his career as an actor and singer (musicals, mostly), he hasn’t found The One.

I have no idea why. He’s good-looking in that roguish, motorcycle-riding kind of way. Has money. Works out. Can sing. What woman doesn’t want a man who sings? And yet he’s stuck on dating apps like everyone else seems to be, searching for love. Why people can’t just meet each other the old-fashioned way, I don’t understand.

And Heather. She was one of his latest girlfriends, though from the sound of things they broke it off.

“So,” Emmett goes on with a heavy sigh, palming his beer, “she said that she just couldn’t commit right now. I mean, she’s my age. She’s thirty-seven. If she can’t commit now, when can she?”

“I hate to tell you this but I think that means she just can’t commit to you.”

“I know.”

“You know what the problem is?” I tell him, gesturing to the bar, which is quite busy for a Thursday night. “It’s that right now everyone is on their phones. Everyone has that ‘me, me, me instant gratification’ shit going on and so when the going gets rough in a relationship, as it always does, they bail. They bail because they have a million other people on their phone, on those fucking apps, all waiting for a hook-up or a date. A million people around the corner, with their perfect filtered photos uploaded, their bios updated and edited so they all represent the perfect fake versions of themselves. So even when you’re on a date with one person, you can look at your phone and go to the next person, have your fun, then go to the next. It’s not fucking dating man, it’s shopping.”

“You’re right.” He looks me up and down. “And I guess your advice would be to meet a girl through work?”

I grin at him. “Yes. The old-fashioned way. Through work, on the street, hell even at a bar.” I start looking around. “Maybe you’ll find someone in here if you just opened your fucking eyes and put your damn phone away.”

“Will,” he says. “You’re harsh.”

“Telling it like it is. I can go on and on about what’s wrong with society today if you let me.”

“Please enlighten me,” he says dryly.

“Maybe another time.” I pause. “Listen, I need to ask you a favor.”

“What?”

“I need to borrow your boat.”

He stares at me for a beat before breaking into a grin. “Shit, man. You need to borrow my boat? What, are you becoming a pirate now or something? Getting that young pussy has changed you.”

I stiffen, my smile fading. “First of all, she’s not young pussy.”

He edges back from me. “Just joking, man. Jesus Murphy, when did you get so fucking touchy, eh? Thought getting laid every day would help that.”

“It’s not every day,” I tell him, my voice tense. “And she’s a mother. She’s not some young, I don’t know, selfie-obsessed bimbo. And yes, she has a fucking nice pussy but that’s for me to discuss, not you.”

“All right then. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up over anything before.”

I shrug, taking a gulp of my beer. “I’m a new man. A pirate, like you say. So can I borrow your boat or what?”

“Do you even know how to sail?”

“Look, I wouldn’t ask to borrow it if I didn’t know how. I took sailing lessons as a kid in Tofino. Now those are some real waves out there. Plus, Sasha was part of the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club when we started dating and I was on the boat with her father a lot. I learned the hard way with him, but I learned.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come along?”

“I want to bring Jackie.”

“And I want to meet her.”

“And her son, Ty.”

“I see. Family outing.”

I give him the side eye. “Something like that.”

He sighs. “Fine. Yes. You can borrow it. Just please don’t let anything happen to it. Sick Buoy might be old but he has a few years left in him. He’s pretty nimble.”

“You know you’re supposed to name boats after a girl, right? And also, the term is yar.”

“Yar?”

“You ever seen The Philadelphia Story with Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn?”

“How fucking old are you, man?”

I ignore that. The funny thing is, Jackie would know exactly what I’m talking about. I just hope when I tell her tomorrow that I want to take her and Ty on a sailing trip that she’ll think the boat is yar too.

* * *

“So whose boat is this again?” Jackie asks as she peers at it. I still can’t tell if she’s impressed or not.

It’s not a new boat. The fact that Emmett actually has a boat makes him one of a rarified set in Vancouver, since owning a boat isn’t cheap and affording moorage in the city is even worse. But it’s a boat from the 80’s, fifty feet long with a teak interior. According to Emmett they don’t make boats like this anymore, and though all the newer versions are flashier, they don’t have the same soul.

“It’s Emmett’s,” I tell her. You’ll meet him some day, I want to tell her but I don’t want to scare her off. I practically had to twist her arm to get her to come, and it was only when I brought up how fun it would be for Ty that she finally relented.

So here we are, standing on the docks at the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club where Emmett keeps his boat, the sun just starting to break through the clouds.

“It’s awesome,” Ty says, staring at it in awe as he holds onto Jackie’s hand. “Sick Buoy,” he says slowly, reading the words on the side.

Jackie gives me a look. “Is this boat named after a Social Distortion song?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Want to come on board?”

Ty nods excitedly.

“Want to become a pirate?”

Now he’s practically dancing in anticipation. Meanwhile Jackie is giving me the death eyes for getting him so worked up.

“Not without a life jacket,” she says sternly, pulling Ty back to her before he can attempt to board the ship on his own.

“Aw, mom,” he moans.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be wearing one too,” she says, looking the boat over. “I didn’t know you could sail, Will.”

“There’s a lot of things you still don’t know,” I say to her.

“Yeah and he’s Batman,” Ty says, rolling his eyes. “Jeez, mom. Don’t you know that Batman has a Bat Boat?”

“Well, sorry,” she says defensively while I quickly climb on the boat and fish two life jackets out of the cockpit locker. Luckily Emmett has both children’s and adult’s lifejackets on board and I toss them both on the dock.

I watch as Jackie puts the jackets on both of them. The way Ty looks at her while she slips the jacket over his head, scrunched up and annoyed at first and then becoming something softer, more adoring. It’s a fucking kick to my heart.

I want this. I want them.

Why can’t this be my life?

Not for this moment. For all moments. Something real, something solid, something that will last.

Jackie then squeezes his cheek, saying something to him with a bright smile, something I can’t hear, and I feel the hot burn of tears behind my eyes. She’s such a good mom, whether she tries to be or not. She’s absolutely everything.

I take in a deep breath and try and push it all away. These emotions aren’t wanted here.

“Need a hand?” I ask them, holding mine out for them.

She hands me Ty first and I haul him on deck with ease before I grab her hands and do the same.

I move in to give her a kiss but she jerks her head back and gives me a look.

Oh. Right. Ty.

I look behind me but he’s not paying attention. He’s making his way over to the wheel like he’s a captain at heart.

“Sorry,” I tell her. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Thank you,” she says. I know the last thing she wants is for Ty to get the wrong idea about us, although I have to say it already feels wrong that we have to hide it from him. Her parents, yes. But her son? It doesn’t sit right with me.

But she’s his mother. I’m not his father. It’s not up to me to make these choices. I have no doubt Jackie is doing what she thinks is right.

Jackie smiles at Ty, who tries to turn the giant wheel in the cockpit back and forth while making revving noises, then looks up and down the length of the ship.

“Is she yar?” she asks me, in a perfect Katherine Hepburn impression.

Fuck if I could kiss her right now.

“She’s definitely yar,” I tell her. “You really are my dream girl, you know that?”

“I think you’ve told me once. Figured you might have seen the film.”

“One of the best.”

“Who did you want her to end up with? Jimmy Stewart or Cary Grant?”

“Grant, of course. Stewart’s character, what was his name? He was a bit of a louse. I remember Grant’s name. C.K. Dexter Haven.”

“The alcoholic husband trying to get his ex-wife back?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t relate to it.”

“You better not.”

“Can we please go?” Ty pleads impatiently. He shakes the wheel.

“Careful Ty,” Jackie warns him, coming over and pulling him away from the wheel. “How can we help?” she asks me.

I think about what we need to get done with only the two of us, and how I can get Ty out of the way so he’s not in any danger.

“Well Ty can help by sitting right there in the middle and holding on to this rope.” I grab a piece of rope from one of the winches, something we probably won’t be needing today, and hand it to him. “Hey Ty-Rex, can you handle a very big, very important job?” I ask.

He nods, staring at the rope.

“This rope is what’s holding the entire boat together. As we push off and get under wind, I want you to hold onto this with all your might. Don’t let go. You got it?”

He nods more enthusiastically. “Got it,” he says.

“Good. I’m trusting you because I think you can handle it.” I pause, pretending to reconsider him. “You know it’s not true what they all say about you.”

“What?” he asks, alarmed.

“Will,” Jackie admonishes me. “He’s just being a joker, Ty. Ignore him.”

“He can’t be the Joker if he’s Batman,” Ty tells her, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, mom,” I add in exasperation before coming over to her.

“You’re a cheeky fucker today,” she says under her breath, trying not to smile.

I shrug. “Must be all the salt air. Makes me feel twenty-five again.”

“Come off it.” She gives me a playful shove and then looks at Ty. “Is that rope actually something important?”

“Of course,” I say with a wink. “Now for you, you have two choices. Either get behind the wheel and steer the boat out of here, or throw the ropes up from the dock and then jump on board.”

“As the ship is moving?”

“It’s not so hard. It will be drifting slowly.”

“Have you seen how short my legs are?”

A smile spreads across my face. “I have seen your legs. And they are lovely.”

“Will, I will fall in the water. That is a fact.”

“Well then you have to steer.”

“Why is this so stressful?”

“Because your father was an idiot who never took you sailing,” I tell her. “All rich Vancouver kids grow up around boats. Or horses. So I guess you got one of them. Now come on, let’s pick one before Ty figures out the rope is bullshit.”

“You know, when we do the team-building exercise next week, I’m going to take great pleasure in making you do things you don’t want to do.”

“Why do you think I don’t know how to ride a horse?”

She narrows her eyes at me. A real spitfire. “You would, wouldn’t you. Perfect Will with your perfect everything.”

“I don’t know if everything is perfect. My girlfriend is being kind of annoying right now.”

“You jerk,” she says, pounding her fist into my chest.

But while she’s smiling and pretending to be annoyed (and annoying), I’m smiling because I just called her my girlfriend and completely got away with it.

For now, anyway.

Because she fears her short (perfect) legs will land her in the water, I leave the steering to her. I turn on the boat, put it in neutral, and tell her to hold the wheel straight. Then I quickly jump off, grab the ropes, throw them on board and jump back on just as the gap between the boat and the dock starts to widen.

“You see,” she points as I come and take over the wheel from her, shifting the gears so we’re going forward and out of the marina. “If I made that jump, I would have drowned. You have long legs.”

“I sure do,” I tell her, glancing at her life vest which pops over her chest, showcasing a hard line of cleavage. “Could that be any tighter? Not that I’m complaining.”

“I want to see how yar this boat is when you’re steering it before I relax.”

I nod at Ty. “He doesn’t look worried.”

Actually he’s got a look of utmost determination on his face as he holds that rope. I’ve seen that expression on men stationed outside army barracks.

“You’re doing a good job, Ty,” I tell him. “Just a few more minutes until we’re set.”

I just want to get the sail up and for the boat to be heading on a straight course. The area around English Bay can be tricky because of all the boats and the dozen tankers waiting around.

Once it’s all under the control, a light chop on the seas, the main sail up and the boat heeling slightly, I tell Ty to let go of the rope and come sit by his mother.

It’s a gorgeous day. I’m smiling into the wind and sun, the city of Vancouver—tall spires of glass rising from the water—looks extra bright under my aviator sunglasses.

“You can’t get much better than this,” I say, almost to myself.

“No, you can’t,” Jackie says in a small voice.

I look down at her sitting just to the left of the wheel, Ty beside her, watching the water rush past. She’s staring up at me in such a way I feel it in my bones. Adoration. Want. Need.

I give her a quiet smile. This is everything I’ve ever wanted, right here, right now.

Is she finally realizing that this is what she wants too?

“You look like you belong on a boat,” she finally says. As if that’s what she was trying to figure out all this time.

I ignore the deflation in my heart. “Do I now?”

“Yeah. It suits you. Your khakis and your navy polo shirt and your sunglasses, your hair. Your tan, your white teeth. You look like an ad for Nautica.” She glances down at my feet. “At least you’re in Vans and not Sperry Topsiders.”

“You know, Just Jackie, it almost sounds like you’re mocking me.”

“Oh, I would never do that.”

I give her a look and continue to sail along. We make it around the bay once before Ty starts asking me questions about sailing. And dinosaurs. And Batman. And hockey. But mainly sailing.

I make Jackie handle the helm and go about showing Ty the proverbial ropes of the ship, the dynamics of sailing and the wind.

He’s actually pretty keen, and he’s quick to figure out my bullshit.

Just like his mother.

“So the rope I was holding, what did it do then?”

I glance over at Jackie who is covering her mouth with a beer, trying not to laugh.

“It was magic.”

“I don’t think I believe in magic anymore. I rode Taffy the other day and fell off when I repeatedly told the pony to hold on to me.”

“No magic? That’s a real shame,” I tell him. “Well, perhaps I just wanted to test you.”

“Test me? Like in school?”

“Yes. To see if you could handle the job. And you did. Hey, are you excited about school ending in a few weeks?”

He thinks this over, pursing his lips. Then he nods. “Yes. Although I really like the kids in my class so I’m going to miss them.”

“Maybe your mom will put you in summer day camp, so you can make more friends.”

“Maybe his mother hasn’t discussed that with him yet,” Jackie speaks up.

I ignore her.

Ty grins. “Summer day camp would be cool. I want to go to hockey camp.”

Jackie groans. “My little boy is going to grow up to be hockey player.”

“Yes,” Ty says excitedly. “The biggest, fastest, bestest guy on the ice.”

“Well I’m sure whatever you do over the summer, you’ll have a great time. And you’ll see your friends when you go back to school in the fall.”

“I’ll see you all summer, right?” he asks, looking up at me with big eyes.

Damn this kid. “As much as I can,” I tell him. “It all depends on your mother. Sometimes I think she doesn’t like me very much.”

Ty scrunches up his nose in shock and then looks over at Jackie. “Mom. How can you not like Will? Will is the best.”

I’m grinning like an idiot. I reach over and tousle his hair because it seems like the thing to do. “I am the best. Thank you Ty-Rex, sometimes it’s nice to hear that.”

“Oh brother,” Jackie mutters.

Then Ty’s face falls slightly. “Will. I like you. Can you become my father? I don’t really have one anymore.”

Shit.

My heart is absolutely breaking.

I look over my shoulder at Jackie who is staring at me like she’s both apologizing for it and fearful for what I’m going to say.

I sigh and give Ty a waning smile. “I don’t know if that’s in the cards, Ty. But you know what I would love? I don’t really have many friends in the city. I was hoping maybe you could become my best one.”

“Really?” Ty asks hopefully.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Yes, of course we can be best friends,” he says. “That would be so cool. Best friends with Batman.”

“That’s the spirit,” I tell him.

I look behind me at Jackie.

Is she . . . crying?

Her eyes are watering, her nose is red and she’s looking off toward the mountains, her lower lip trembling.

I come over to her, resting my hands on top of hers on the wheel.

“Hey,” I say softly. “Jackie. Look at me.”

She does, sniffing, her eyes shimmering with a pain I don’t recognize.

“I’m sorry,” I say, lowering my voice. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“It’s not that,” she says, wiping away a tear.

“What is it?”

She takes in a deep breath, looking at him over her shoulder before looking back to me. “I never realized how much you really mean to him.”

I frown. “Do I mean that much to you?”

She stares at me for a moment, and in that moment I feel like I might as well be drowning in the waves. Then she says, “Of course you do, Will. You mean everything to me.”

“Do you promise?” I ask, leaning in close.

I want, need, to kiss her so badly.

I’m willing to risk it.

“Yes,” she says and then I’m pressing my lips against hers, tasting the salt of the ocean and her tears.

She kisses me back, sinking into the wheel, into my mouth.

Fuck, I need this. I need this so much.

But I remember we have an audience. I can’t get carried away.

I pull back and tuck her hair behind her ear, my eyes searching her face. “Let’s head back,” I tell her. “Think you can handle it?”

“I can handle it.”

And she does. She keeps the boat going straight (no need for autopilot), even lets Ty steer for a bit while I take out my sketch pad from my leather bag and start drawing Ty at the helm.

“What do you want to be Ty? Batman’s Robin? A dinosaur? A pirate?” I ask him after I’ve done his outline.

“Are you becoming a caricature artist?” Jackie asks.

“Depends if I ever need another job one day.”

It’s good to start looking for other careers in case Ted finds out about us.

“I want to be a Stegosaurus,” Ty says.

“It’s a known fact that Stegosauruses aren’t good sailors. The sails get caught on their spikes. What about Ty-Rex?”

“Fine,” he says.

Good, because that’s pretty much what my outline looks like. I just add the tiny T-Rex arms and a few fanged teeth protruding from his smile.

By the time I take over the wheel and get the boat back to the dock, Jackie deciding to be Lara Croft this time and leaping off the boat with the ropes, I’ve finished up sketches of both Ty and Jackie.

“Here,” I say as we stand on the dock, placing the drawing in Ty’s hand and hoping he likes it. “This is for you.”

“Oh my god,” Jackie cries out softly, peering around my shoulder. “Will, this is amazing.”

“So cool!” Ty says. “I love it! Raaaaar,” he roars, pretending to be a dinosaur, coming at me with his tiny T-Rex arms.

“Jackie, he’s attacking me,” I plead before picking him up and tickling him until he squeals.

“Don’t ruin the picture!” Jackie plucks it from Ty’s hands before he can let go of it.

Laughing, I put Ty back down and tear out her portrait from the sketch pad. “Here, this is you.”

In the same line as Ty, it’s a borderline caricature. But instead of drawing her as a T-Rex, I’ve made her up as Cinderella, albeit a curvy version with a huge rack and exaggerated ass.

“I’m Cinderella?” she asks.

“Yes,” I tell her, gesturing to the crown on her head. “But at this part of the story, she’s already a queen. Something she was all along and never knew it.”

“Until Prince Charming shows up.”

I shrug. “Nah. She never really needed that guy, did she?”

She studies me for a moment before looking back at the drawing.

“Anyway, now that I’ve shown you what I can do, it’s time you show me what you can do?”

“Is this innuendo?” she asks quietly, brow raised.

“No,” I tell her. “I know what you can do, Dream Girl, and you do it very, very well. I meant your writing. Your scripts. Remember? Back in the day? I said I would show you what my passion is if you show me yours. You said screenplays. Why don’t you find the ones you’ve locked away somewhere and send them my way? I would love to read them.”

She shakes her head, looking scared. “That’s not really fair,” she says. “You just drew this. What I have I wrote when I was a teenager. It’s all shit.”

“Mom,” Ty reminds her about the swearing.

“Sorry. But it’s true.”

“So write something now.”

“When would I have the time to do that?”

I think about that for a moment. She’s not spending every day with me outside of work, but I know I do take up a lot of her time and the last thing I want is for that to stop.

“Monday,” I tell her. “All day Monday at work, that’s your job. You write me a story, the first ten pages of a script. I don’t care what it’s about but that’s what you’ll be doing.”

“You are the worst boss,” she tells me.

“I know.”

It’s funny how interchangeable being the worst and being the best can be.