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I can’t hold back my laughter. “No it isn’t!”
“It sure is. ‘The Duffy Bank’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. But she’s a Duffy through and through.”
“That’s hilarious,” I say. Sloane does not look like a Duffy. “So that means you’re half Duffy yourself,” I tease.
Rhett pulls a face. “Unfortunately. But who knows? Maybe I would have been good at it. I’m just mad I never gave it a chance.” He kicks at the snow, staring out across the water.
Suddenly, despite his earlier plea to not give him hope, he asks, “Do you really think you can pull it off?”
My stomach churns. Why the hell did Rhett have to come to all these realizations now? Last week he didn’t give a shit about the bank. Or, I suppose, he didn’t allow himself to. I guess we never know how we really feel about things until we’re on the edge of losing them.
I’d never ask him this, but I wonder how much of this sudden nostalgia is actually directed at his mother. For all his complaints, they’d seen each other almost daily for close to a decade. Maybe this is Rhett’s way of expressing regret over their relationship, even if he can’t yet admit it to himself.
“I don’t know,” I finally say. “I hope so.”
“Me too,” Rhett says. He sighs. “But if not, maybe it won’t be so bad seeing what normal life is all about. Tell me, how much do groceries cost these days?”
I snort. “It depends. Do you want one groceries or two?”
He pretends to consider. “I think I can get by with one and a half at first.”
“What kind of work will you look for?”
“Something to do with cars,” he says. “At least I’m not quite as useless as some of these other trust-fund kids. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”
“You’ll have a routine at last.”
He groans. “That’s the part I’m looking forward to the least. The boredom. What do normal people do after work?”
“Drink wine, watch reality TV. Will I be seeing pictures on Facebook of you at a mud run in a year?” I tease.
“God forbid. Although maybe it will eventually come to that. This pile isn’t going to get my blood pumping like the Hellcat does.”
“I’ll be right there with you,” I say. “Posting photos of my polar plunge. If I ever get around to it.”
I glance over at him when he doesn’t respond.
“Oh no. What’s that look?” I ask.
Rhett is grinning deviously at me. “Maybe you should help me christen my new normal life. Want to make a dream a reality?” he asks.
I frown, trying to piece it together. Then he nods at the waves and it hits me.
“No way!” I gasp. “It’s freezing out!”
“Isn’t that the point?”
I can’t exactly argue, but I also doubt the unfriendly man in the lake house will welcome us next to his fire.
“Here,” Rhett says. He hops up and opens the front door, turns the ignition on with a slightest of sputtering, and cranks the heat up. “There’s blankets in the back. We’ll dry off immediately. It’ll be fine.”
“I—” I look out at the waves. They don’t look particularly inviting. But, on the other hand, this was my idea… I snap my gaze back to him.
“Race you,” I say.
He doesn’t hesitate. “You’re on.”
In an instant we’re whipping off our clothes. There are a lot of them; we’re both quite bundled. I’m struggling with a sweater just as Rhett gets his top layer off, revealing a tight, rippling midsection.
