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“Okay, dear,” Gram says. She grips the door handle and turns back one more time, smiling, eyes twinkling. “Thanks for getting her back safely, Sawyer.”
Sawyer
I drop off coffee and the largest muffin I can find for Gwen, walk-of-shame-ing it the whole way in last night’s suit, the shirt and jacket open over my T-shirt. I could have changed first, probably should have changed first, based on the knowing looks I get from a handful of people I pass along the way, but my singular focus was to get a hangover cure to Gwen as quickly as possible, and that did not allow for a detour to my room.
Nan and I somehow find ourselves approaching our rooms from opposite ends of the hall at the same time. She sees me from a distance, and I can sense her reaction before I can see it clearly. Her smile widens as we near one another, and I know her well enough to know she’s dying to make some smart comment.
“Nothing happened,” I tell her.
“Not yet,” she says, and she disappears into her room with a wink.
Our excursion today is for all four of us, and fortunately it’s booked for a later time slot. We figure Gwen should have a chance to recover a bit before we need to disembark. Unfortunately, that’s not the case, because we’re being ferried from our port to a separate part of the island for the event and boats only leave within the first ninety minutes of docking.
When she sees the ferry, her face goes gray-green. “I am going to puke over the side of this boat.”
“Sounds like maybe I should look for a new seat buddy.”
She doesn’t turn toward me as she continues, probably trying to move her head as little as possible. “It’s going to be humiliating.”
The line stretches behind us, and I estimate that the boat can hold about a hundred people on the lower level, nearly as many upstairs. “How about this: I’ll make sure we get a seat by the side, near the back, and I’ll hold your hair back if you need me to.”
“So chivalrous, Sawyer Dawson. You might be a gentleman after all.”
The boat ride is, thankfully, uneventful, and we have two hours to explore and enjoy the beach before our scheduled rendezvous with dolphins. Nan and Maggie decide to check out the gift shops and then wade in the water, but Gwen drops herself into a lounger under an oversized umbrella and declares that this will be where we can find her for the next 120 minutes.
Maggie looks at me and I dip my head to say I’ve got this. Go, have fun. Then I lower myself into the chair next to Gwen’s.
“I feel like I have my own security guard.” She drapes an arm across her eyes.
“It’s easier to pretend to be one for you now than to hire one for myself later if something bad happens to you on this trip.”
She lifts her arm and opens one eyelid to stare at me.
“Your grandmother. I’m pretty sure she’d kick my ass.”
“Don’t be silly,” she says, still watching me. “She’d hire someone else to do it.” Her lips curve into a smile before she settles back into her avoid-the-sun-at-all-costs position. “How’d you know about the hair, anyway?”
For the life of me, I can’t figure out what she’s talking about. “What hair?”
“Holding my hair back. If I threw up.”
I shrug, though she can’t see it. “The joys of being raised in a house full of women, I guess.”
“Did you have a lot of sisters?”
“No.” I slide out of my flip-flops, then readjust my own chaise to a 45-degree angle and nestle in with my hands behind my head. “Actually, growing up it was just me, my mom, and Nan.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Mom was an only child. My grandpa died before I was born, and my dad took off when I was three. Mom never really pursued a romantic relationship then, because she was so focused on me. So it just made sense for the three of us to live together. When Mom got sick, Nan always helped with her hair, rubbing her back, and I learned pretty quickly that that was an important technique in caring for someone.”
She turns fully to me now, her eyes meeting mine. “Your mom was sick?” There’s concern there, and it’s sweet, but misplaced.
“Oh, like, normal sick. Like when I brought the flu home from school or something and she inevitably picked it up.”
“Oh. Good.” She leans back into her chair and lets a moment pass. “That whole boat ride, I was wondering how you knew. I was scared you were going to say you’d had long hair, like a man bun or something. Please tell me you never had a man bun.”
“I never had a man bun, Gwen.” I pause for effect and revel in her reaction when I add, “Except that one year in college.”
