Caroline looks down at her lap and our entwined hands. “If you say so,” she replies softly.
“Whatever you want, darlin’,” Mrs. May says. “You definitely need to go on that trip. Shirley can cover for you when I can’t.”
Mr. May swigs back the rest of his beer. “You’ll take care of her then?” he asks.
I hold up my hand, palm facing outwards. “On my honor, sir.”
He nods. I nod back. Mrs. May laughs, and claps her hands together. “This is such exciting news. I knew you were going to be a good thing for her, I didn’t imagine you’d be the one to open up the world.”
“Her world is already open. I’m excited to show her another piece of it,” I reply, using caution with my words. When I dated Stella, I was constantly reminded that words matter. As infuriating and frustrating it was to get my language just so, I suppose the usefulness carried over. Words are, quite literally, forever.
Caroline sulks, arms folded, bottom lip inside her mouth. “You approve then?” she says. A beat or two passes before I realize she’s asking her parents if they approve of me.
“We know he’s capable of making you happy,” May says, looking at me. “Maybe he doesn’t fly planes, but he jumps out of them so I guess that counts for something.”
“He commits,” Mrs. May announces, interrupting her husband. My palms sweat at her proclamation, but isn’t that exactly what I did from the moment I decided to befriend Caroline? First, I committed to infiltrating her life—getting the airport. Next came the complicated part, deciding she was worth the risk. The ultimate commitment.
“Mom, please. That’s presumptuous,” Caroline whispers.
She tsks in response. “You are a gem. A prize in this world. We spoke about this already. I think you two make a terrific couple and we’re happy for you. Commitment is important, honey. It’s what separates the men from the boys.” Mrs. May glances at me, winking slyly.
I’m sure the gesture is her rendition of a threat and that’s all well and good, but I don’t need her threats. The threat looming inside my chest is enough to propel me into this relationship full steam ahead.
When I was growing up, I was aware I was an all or nothing type of boy. That quality carried over to my teens, and then my carousing in adulthood. Merely joining the Navy like my Dad wasn’t good enough. I needed to work my way into the most elite tier of the military. I was all in. When I was hunting pussy, I was all in. When any goal presented itself, I crushed it. It’s a strong character trait on a good day and a debilitating disease the next. Right now, I’ve committed to making sure Caroline’s heart is cared for properly. Fucking her too soon and I’m doing a disservice to her and to my own intentions. Waiting too long, and I’m asking for trouble from every other swinging dick in this town that wants a piece of her. Middle ground is what I’m searching for and hoping to land on. Tonight. After this dinner.
“She’s right,” I say to Caroline. “You are a gem.” Her cheeks flush and she looks down to her lap again.
Mrs. May, laughs, pleased I’m siding with her. “You are such a flatterer,” Caroline mutters. Then she asks me for details about the NYC trip. I tell her and the rest of the table as much as I know, and can. “Can we go to Central Park?” she asks
I nod. “There’s a deli next to the park that I go to anytime I’m in town. You’ll love it,” I say.
“When you get back hurricane season starts,” Mr. May says, reminding her of her airport duties. That peaks her interest and it isn’t long before she’s lost in conversation about storms and airplanes and weather. Sort of like my grandparents who like to banter about the chance of rain on a Wednesday afternoon. While they talk, I help Mrs. May clear the table, stacking as many dishes as possible before entering the kitchen behind her.
“You’re a natural,” she jokes, taking the top plate that has a glass balancing on it. “If you need a waiting job. I know where you can find one.”
I grin, and I see her face change, and I know whatever she has to say next isn’t something she relishes talking about. “I’m afraid I can’t be employed outside of the Navy, ma’am.”
“That’s a shame,” she says, eyes downcast into the sink filled with soapy water. “What are your plans for the bed and breakfast?” she asks, moving a sponge against a plate.
There it is. The foreigner encroaching upon local land. “That’s an awful big house for just…you,” she adds, looking at me square on.
Telling her I had plans to tear it down and build a single-family home seems like a bad idea, so I go with the truth. “Well I’m just going to fix it up first, Ma’am. It needs a lot of work. I haven’t really thought much past that. The time I spend with it will give me some indication of what I want to do with it.”
“That’s a big purchase to not have firm plans,” she exclaims.
I swallow hard. “It was a shame it was sitting there empty, don’t you agree? Someone had to buy it. Why not me?”
“Are you going to flip it? Fix it up and sell it?” Now her question makes even more sense.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m sticking around here,” I say. I tell her that I put the offer on the property when I first arrived—that I knew I could make it brighter and more beautiful than it has been in the past. “The house is just a house. Bronze Bay is my home now. This is just my second hand slice of paradise.”
Her smile seems genuine. “She’s plum crazy about you, son. I hope that you will stick around. The men around here don’t understand her. I’ve always been a little proud about that. Thinking maybe she would move away one day and find her match elsewhere. Being tied to a small town has both its ups and downs.” She places the plate into the drying rack and starts washing another. “I don’t want to frighten you off or anything. Don’t think that.”
I run my hands through my hair. “It takes a lot to scare me off,” I reply. “Have any photo albums of Caroline as a teenager?” I joke.
She laughs, and Caroline clears her throat from behind me. I spin to meet her harried gaze. “What are you guys talking about? Only good things hopefully,” she says, grabbing me around the waist. “Daddy thinks it’s going to be a bad season this year,” she adds.
“Don’t change the subject. We were talking about scaring me off,” I tell her, setting my big hands over hers.
