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She shakes her head, trying to downplay the surprising surge of emotions she has shown me. "It’s okay. We were pretty estranged, I guess. We never got along but… still." I nod, understanding more than she might realize. My relationship with my dad has had its own rough patches. We are civil, at best. I seldom see him, finding solace in the distance. My mom, though, she's a different story—an absolute saint. How she ended up with my dad is beyond me. They split up fifteen years back, and she's been living a peaceful life in the mountains since then.
"You want me to call Sam? You probably shouldn’t go to work like this," I suggest, concerned.
But Tilly sits up straighter and shakes her head. "No. I need to talk to her. I have to go up to Tahoe for the memorial."
I’m nodding along because what else is there to do? I have no idea how to handle Tilly during normal situations. And this is far from normal. Deflecting seems like the best option. "So… who was at the door that made you want to hide me? A husband?"
"My sister," she says, her voice losing any warmth it had.
"And I was hiding because?" I watch as she suddenly stands, pacing the small living room.
"Because my family is complicated. They like to use shit like this against me. You know I was on the swim team in high school?” I shake my head, following her movements with my eyes. “Well, I was. And I was damn good. But after I won a big competition…” She stops and puts her hand on her forehead. “They made me quit because I wouldn’t do something." Her eyes widen at the words like she's holding back what she really wants to say. "One of my uncles stood outside the pool every day until the season was over to make sure I didn’t go back. Every fucking day, Tommy.” She’s pacing again, and I am very confused. Her family made her quit for what? Not doing 'something'? That's just vague enough to have my imagination in overdrive. But suddenly her personality makes more sense. No wonder Tilly hates being told what to do. She's been controlled by her family in the worst way. “So, if they know I care about something or someone…” She gestures at me like I’m some sort of atrocity that’s currently on fire. “It's just easier if she doesn’t know you.” She sinks back into the couch with a sigh.
A part of me lights up. She cares about me, genuinely. And that’s not me being an optimistic fool, she literally said it. Oh, how I want to tease her for it, but now is not the time. "Okay, I think I get it."
Her smile then is a balm, a brief return to the moment before our bubble was burst by that knock. If Tilly’s sister hadn’t shown up, I know exactly what would have happened, what I still want to happen. But bringing it up feels too soon, too raw with her dad's news hanging over us.
Instead, I offer support. "You know, I could go with you."
She recoils slightly. "To my father's memorial?"
"Yeah, why not? I’ve got nothing else planned."
But she’s quick to refuse, standing up. "Did you not just hear everything I said?” She’s shaking her head. “No, Tommy. I’ll go alone and be fine." The rejection stings a bit. How is she going to sideline me, the quarterback of her affection, with ten seconds on the clock when all I want to do is score the next touchdown? Yeah, it doesn’t make sense to me either.
Taking a deep breath, I respect her decision. "Okay then. You ready to head out?"
She stands, taking charge. "Yes, but I’m driving."
She hastily grabs her dress from the day before, throwing it over her head. It's actually pretty astounding—she's just received the news of her father's passing, and here she is, pushing aside her turmoil to carry on with her day. My admiration for her strength grows by the second. I didn’t even know it was possible to love this woman more. But combine how we were pressed together before her sister arrived and seeing her push through this horrifying news, and I’m experiencing a whole new side of Tilly. One I really, really, really, want to get more familiar with.
Once she's dressed, she catches me staring and recoils a bit. "What?"
I shake my head, trying to clear the lingering image of her pressed against the wall, my body melting against her. "Nothing. Let's go."
The drive to the surf shop is quiet. She’s behind the steering wheel, but all her movements seem robotic. There’s a lot on her mind, that much is clear. When we arrive, I find myself opening her door, a gesture that's more about wanting to care for her than anything else.
"You're suddenly a charmer," she says, a light tease in her tone.
"Only for you." My voice has unintentionally dipped into a lower register. On impulse, I reach for her hand as we head towards the shop, but she quickly withdraws, though not without a blush painting her cheeks.
Embarrassed by my forwardness, I rub the back of my neck. "Sorry, that was—" I begin, but she stops me, halting in her tracks.
"It’s not that I don’t want to. I just…" Her gaze drifts towards the surf shop, her mind obviously racing with thoughts. "I’ve got a lot going on and explaining things to Sam would be hard."
"About your dad or…" My voice trails off, but the unsaid words hang between us like a tangible thing.
She sighs, the weight of our unspoken connection heavy in the air. "I don’t know, Tommy. Just, don’t tell her about the time we’ve spent together, okay?" The request stings a bit, a sharp reminder of the dream-like bubble we've been living in these past few days.
Listen, I want to respect her wishes. I really do. But I fucking can’t let her go without making one last attempt to express how much she means to me. If I don’t, I might go back to Costa Rica before we figure things out. She cared for me while I was hurt. We cuddled on the couch. Both of us admitted we missed each other. Fuck. I should have kissed her in the hall. Even a tiny peck. Just to solidify what’s going on between us.
I can’t let that tension disappear. Need, pure and unfiltered for Tilly, has only gotten stronger over the last two days. Grabbing her hand again, I pull her around the corner of the building into the alley, my heart hammering in my chest. It’s not the romantic scene that I would have picked. There’s a wetness on the ground that’s unidentifiable but smells unmistakably like pee. Yeah, it’s pee. I’m about to pour my heart out to this amazing woman while standing two inches from what can only be a puddle of human urine.
I shake the thought away. We’re close to the beach, after all, and I can hear the seagulls crying overhead, along with a few waves crashing. Focus, Tommy. Waves, not pee. "I won’t say anything to Sam. Swear on my five six Channel Island board." I cross my heart, hoping to lighten the mood, but her fingers are trembling, so I tighten my grip.
Feeling bolder than ever before, I bring her hand to my lips, breathing warmth onto her skin before pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers.
"Tilly, I can’t leave the States with you upset like this.” Her tense face melts a little, her eyes growing glassy.
