Page 62 of Tony

She tilts her head at me like a confused puppy. “Yeah. I love their lotion. I wish we had a shop here in FoCo. But the closest one is down in Boulder.”

“Near your mom?” I ask.

“Yeah.” She laughs. “It’s like right down the street from her shop.”

“Hmm.” It’s kinda cool that I knew that. About her mom, I mean. “Anyway. My sister is part owner of that company and—”

“Wait! What?”

“Yeah. My fucking sister…” I sigh. “She’s a freaking billionaire. Owns one-fourth of that company. The point is, she’s rich, right? And my parents own this dive shop.”

“Like… SCUBA diving?”

“Exactly. So we came into some money just as my sister’s company was getting off the ground—”

“‘Came into some money?’” Soshee makes air quotes.

“Exactly,” I say. But I eye her cautiously to see if she’ll say anything about what that implies.

“Got it. Keep going. This story is getting better and better by the second.”

I cock my head at her. “You’re not gonna ask questions about that?”

“About what? That you just admitted you’re kinda Mob? Pshhh. My last name is Ameci, OK? I know what’s up.”

“You don’t. But… we’ll get to that later. Maybe. So anyway, we get this money and started buying up houses on our little street in Key West. We started a vacation cottage business. And then Emma, my sister, she started sending us money once she had a few extra million and my brothers and I all started our own companion businesses near the dive shop. So I run the romantic sailboat shit. It’s mostly honeymooners. And my older brother, Alonzo, he runs the deep-sea fishing boat. And my little brother, Luke, he sells these water adventure packages. Waterskiing. Speedboats. Parasailing. Shit like that.”

“So how did you get stuck with the romantic sailing idea?” She laughs again, like she can’t believe that’s what I do for a living.

“Well, my first choice was the fishing. But Alonzo isn’t the type of brother you argue with and he got his shit together first. And I’m not into the adventure water sports. So”—I shrug—“honeymoon sailboat charters was all I could think of.”

She sighs. Heavily. Mockingly. And places a hand over her heart. “You’re so romantic.”

I laugh and then turn my head into the sun. It feels good on my face. I kinda miss Key West. Colorado has been sunny too, but it’s not nearly as warm. “You can laugh all you want,” I say, keeping my eyes closed. “But no one complains after they get off my yacht. I have customers who have been booking packages with me every year, without fail, for almost a decade.”

She flops back on the bed next to me, so close our upper arms press against each other. “I’m not laughing at you, Tony. I’m appreciating the complexity of what’s beneath your surface.”

I snap my fingers, turn my head, and open one eye to peek at her. “Like the hull of a yacht. You only see the top part. But down below there’s like… a fucking dining room and shit.”

She turns her head and lets out another laugh. “Exactly like the hull of a yacht.” She flops over on her stomach and presses her face into the soft comforter. “You’re kind of a catch, Mr. Dumas.”

I nod my head and close my eye. “I really am.”

“So how come you’re not hitched?”

“Hitched?” I ask, keeping my eyes closed. I could fall asleep right now, that’s how relaxed I am. A real sleep. Not just a nap. With her next to me. I would like to spend this whole day in bed with her, actually. Maybe fuck her. But maybe not? Maybe just… enjoy her. “Hitched as in… married?”

“Or at least dating. Someone who is not Belinda Baker, that is.”

I open both eyes and turn my head to stare at her. “I guess I just haven’t met the right girl yet.”

Soshee smiles at me, looking pretty relaxed and lazy too. “What’s she look like?”

“The right girl?” I pause for a moment, then smile and close my eyes again, feeling very, very comfortable. “Well… you,” I mumble. “Maybe.”

“Hmm. You have my mind spinning.”

“Good,” I say. “Misery loves company.”