IN THE HISTORY of awkward meetings, introducing Diane to Maggie and Gil wouldn’t have made the top ten. But it definitely ranked in the top twenty.
Diane’s blush covered not only her cheeks. From her hairline down to her cleavage visible beneath her hoodie, her skin turned pink. I pressed the back of my hand to her neck where I felt the heat from the blood racing in her pulse. To calm her, I grabbed her good hand and held it when we wandered outside, squeezing her fingers in reassurance.
Babe bounded past me to greet Maggie’s dog Biscuit on the lawn. The two barked and jumped all over each in greeting.
Maggie turned around when she saw Babe and smiled at us. “Sorry to, um, barge up here uninvited. Well, I called both your and Diane’s phones yesterday and this morning on the drive up from Portland. And left voicemails.” She laughed. “But seeing what can’t be unseen just now, I’m guessing you two haven’t checked your missed calls.”
Diane and I looked at each other. I shrugged. Hadn’t occurred to me to look at my phone all weekend. Probably should’ve done that.
Maggie continued, ignoring my shrug, “Hi, I’m Maggie. And you must be Diane. Please be Diane.” She blushed.
Diane released my hand and extended hers to Maggie. “Hi, Diane Watson.”
“Oh, please, I’ve practically seen you naked. No need for formalities. Hugs are in order.” Maggie hugged her tight.
“I’m … I can’t believe … I have no words,” Diane said, grimacing through the hug.
“Don’t worry about it. Honestly. I’m glad you’re okay and John’s taking care of you after the accident.” She blushed again. “I didn’t mean in a sexual way. Um, Gil? Want to give a girl a hand here?”
I eyed Gil who’d been observing this from his position at the railing.
“Nah, you’re doing fine.” He walked over and kissed the top of Maggie’s head. “Hi, John.” He shook my hand, but didn’t try to squeeze off my fingers like the first time we met last summer.
“Hi. Gil, this is my girlfriend, Diane. Diane, Gil.” My mouth twitched with a smile when I said the word girlfriend. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Diane smile at the word.
Maggie studied us and grinned. “Quinn said you were beautiful, and for once he didn’t exaggerate. It’s so nice to meet John’s girlfriend. Finally.”
I ignored her teasing. “What brings you up to the island? Thought you were coming back in a few weeks.”
“We are. That’s the plan. Unless you need more time, Diane?”
“She can always stay with me.” The words rushed out before my brain caught up. All three faces turned and stared at me. “I mean, if you need her to leave before she finds a place. Not forever. Not yet.”
Great. Gil stared and Diane gaped at me, her jaw hovering near the ground.
Maggie gave me a wink and smiled. “You’re full of surprises,” she said. “Who are you and what have you done with John Day?”
I grumbled about nosy neighbors under my breath.
Gil changed the subject for me. “Maggie explained all this in the voicemails, but we decided we’d take Bessie down to Portland now that the weather’s nice.”
“And I wanted to make sure you’re okay after the accident. I wasn’t sure if things were settled between you and John or if you had anyone looking after you.” Maggie looked at Diane.
Diane smiled at her. “Thanks. John’s been great after the accident. I’m in good hands.”
I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to my side.
“Well, we don’t want to interrupt any more than we have,” Gil said. “Have you considered getting curtains?”
I laughed and glanced at Maggie, then back at Gil. “Have you?”
Maggie swatted at my shoulder. “You’ve never had to see my naked ass running around in the middle of my living room.”
Busted. She had turned around again. Let her look, she had her chance. I raised my eyebrow at her and cocked my head.
“Okay, okay. New beach neighbors’ rule. No peeping in windows or coming over unannounced.”
“Where’s the fun in that? I’ve got nothing to hide,” I said with a big smile.
“We’re not turning this into some island version of a nudist colony or swingers’ beach,” Maggie said.
“Who said anything about swinging?” Gil bristled and gawped at Maggie.
I leaned over and whispered into Diane’s ear, “See? I told you we had nothing to worry about. She’s as crazy as we are. Probably more so.”
“I heard that,” Maggie said. “I’m not crazy.”
“Honey, you were talking about nudists and swingers. In front of your tenant, who happens to be John’s girlfriend, whom you’ve never met before.”
Maggie hung her head. “Hi, my name is Maggie and I suffer from word vomit.”
Diane smiled. “I think we’ll get along perfectly.”
“Let’s leave on a high note.” Gil grabbed Maggie’s hand and tugged her toward the stairs.
“Probably a good idea,” Maggie said.
Maggie said something about Quinn and chatting on the phone soon about logistics and return dates, but I lost myself in Diane’s scent while she stood beside me. It had been a big afternoon besides the surprise visit.
Big words.
Promises of the future.
A calm settled over me. Everything was different now.
I waved at Maggie and Gil when they left, but I’d zoned out on the last of the conversation.
“That went well. Ended better than expected, don’t you think?” I turned our bodies and strolled back toward the door.
“Sure. I’m happy it wasn’t my naked ass Maggie and Gil saw.”
“No one sees your naked ass except me.”
“Same goes for you. Maggie today was the last exception. No nudists and no swinging.” She frowned before shaking her head.
“Classic Maggie. She’s this amazing writer, but when she gets nervous, she can’t stop herself.”
“She acts fond of you. Should I be worried?”
“Did you see how she looks at Gil? And how he looks at her?” I stroked her hair.
“I did. They love each other.”
“Nothing to worry about, then.”
“It’s the same way you look at me, you know.”
I loved the confidence in her voice. “I know.”
Maggie called from the ferry to tell us she’d run into Dave on her way down the beach. His brother and family canceled their summer rental, leaving him with an empty place about four houses down the beach from mine—a perfect location for Diane.
Monday after work we walked down the road to see the house. After counting the steps between our houses, Diane made her mind up before we entered she’d take it. For a beach rental it was decently furnished, but she insisted Dave take away the mounted deer head above the brick fireplace. He offered to replace it with a ram’s head, missing the point all taxidermy was a no for her.
A summer rental would give her enough time to find a permanent place. With her divorce settlement, she said she could afford to buy a place. We hadn’t talked about how much money she was getting from the asshole, but she’d hinted it was a lot. She deserved every penny.
Now she had a place for the summer, Diane told me she’d be going back to New York for a week. At first I hated the idea. I worried the charm of hikes and fishing couldn’t hold up to the lifestyle of the city.
The insecurities I wouldn’t admit to out loud stirred again. She’d return home and decide she’d rather be there than stuck on an island with me.
“Why do you have to go back? Don’t you have friends who can ship your stuff?” My voice whined and I cringed. I sounded like a girl.
We sat on the couch in my house again, fully clothed this time. At least for now. Depended how this conversation went.
“Are you pouting? Big, bad boy John Day?” She poked me in the ribs.
“I’m not pouting.” I crossed my arms to protect my chest from her poking fingers.
“You are. It’s adorable. And annoying. As only you can be.”
“I’m not annoying. I don’t want you to leave. I’m greedy.”
“Is that all it is?” She ducked her head down to see my eyes.
“What else would it be?” I grumbled at her.
“Maybe something to do with your bad mood all week. You haven’t been this shut down since the camping trip.”
“I’m not shut down.”
“Sure. I promise I’m coming back.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“My return ticket would say different.”
“Tickets can be changed.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“John.” Her voice softened and she tucked herself against my side.
“Fine.” I exhaled through my mouth, then reached my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “I don’t want you to go back and decide you belong there.”
Her hand picked up mine and played with my fingers before she laced our hands together.
“When I arrived here in January, I didn’t know I’d stay. I planned to be here for a few months. Everything I own, all my clothes and stuff, is in storage back there. I need to look through it and decide what comes back with me. I won’t even see Kip.”
I grumbled some more, but inside felt better knowing she wouldn’t see the asshole. “At least you’ll be spared.”
“Lauren’s letting me stay with her. I’ll be spending my days at the storage facility sorting boxes. Not glamorous or exciting.”
“Can’t Lauren do it for you?”
“No. This is everything from college and after. An entire life squeezed into boxes and bags. Depressing, isn’t it?”
“I could come with you,” I said.
“You could, but you’d hate it. You know that.”
“I’d do it for you.”
“I know you would. Do you want to examine the excesses of my former life? All the silly shoes, last year’s must have fashions, and old pictures?”
“Sounds like hell.”
“Thought so.” She reached up and turned my face to hers. “We’re solid, right? You and me?”
I nodded and bent to brush my nose against hers.
“Let me try to understand your man brain. You think I’m going and never coming back?” Her lips touched mine, but when I tried to deepen the kiss, she retreated.
I shrugged at her observation, and willed her not to analyze it.
Studying my eyes, she furrowed her brows. “Oh,” she said. “Oh.”
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the couch. No grown man should be this messed up about something that happened over a decade ago. My breath quickened along with my pulse. I fought the instinct to run, to escape, to make it all fade away.
Her hand stroked across my brow and smoothed out the line between my eyes before moving down my face and over my jaw. A finger outlined my nose and the line of my lips.
I steadied my breathing, then opened my eyes. Diane stared at me. No, more than stared. Her gaze penetrated me as if she could see all the darkness inside.
“I’m not going to leave you. Not unless you tell me to.” She repeated the words I said after her accident.
“You can’t keep those promises. Things happen. People leave.”
“John.” Her legs straddled me and she wrapped her body around mine.
Slowly, I returned the embrace, burying my head in her shoulder. Breathing in her scent, I counted to fifty and willed the panic to leave me. She’d fly to New York and be back in a week. A week. Seven days. Six including travel.
Her voice sounded soft and soothing. “If you want, you can come with me. It might be fun. During the day while I work you could explore the city, then at night we’d be together.”
It was a nice offer, but the minute the words left her mouth, I knew I wouldn’t take her up on it. This wasn’t about trusting her. This moment, this point in my life, was about trusting myself. If I went, the demons and ghosts from my mother’s death would win. I had to let her go.