“Oh, crap,” he said, looking around, though he knew it was fruitless. “I’ll replace them.”
“Oh, it’s no big deal,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “They were ugly anyway.”
“They weren’t ugly.”
She cocked her head at him. “Mason hated them.”
“Well, it’s a well-established fact by now that Mason is an idiot, is it not?”
She grinned. “I have a thing for crazy sunglasses. The weirder, the better. Mason said it was juvenile.”
An image of her wearing her strawberry perfume and those red glasses—and, let’s be honest, not much else—popped into his head unbidden. “A giant, fucking idiot,” he said, half expecting her object or at least to roll her eyes at him.
Instead she just shot him another grin. “Okay, if you fall off the proverbial horse…” Nodding, he held her board while she climbed back up. With the sun glinting off her wet skin, she looked like a sea goddess. It was getting harder—in more ways than one—to be around her. Maybe they should give the casual fling one more try.
“You know,” she said, as she tested her balance and stuck her oar into the water. “This is the most fun I’ve had since…forever.” She shot him a beatific smile. “You were right. I didn’t even realize how badly I needed friends that had nothing to do with couplehood.”
“Mmm.” Well, he’d made that particular bed, hadn’t he? Suppressing a groan, he hoisted himself back up on his board. “What do you say we turn back and get some lunch?”
“Yes! I’m starving.” She licked her lips.
He was well and truly fucked.
“That was way harder than it looks,” Amy said as they set out for home after burgers at the Island Café.
“Yeah, there’s a lot of core work required to keep yourself upright in the water,” he answered, handing her one of the mini blueberry tarts he’d snagged to go.
“I can see how it would be almost…meditative once you got good at it. If you went by yourself, I mean.” She shot him a glance. “Not that the company today wasn’t top-notch.”
“Come by anytime and borrow my board. I’ll stay out of your hair.”
She did a funny fist-pump as they turned onto his street. “I love it! A little more than a week ago, I only knew about your”—she whipped out the air quotes—“‘public-facing house.’ Now I’ve totally penetrated the inner sanctum!” She took a bite of the tart. “Oh my God, this is so good.”
Two things happened then. First, Amy moaned. They were good tarts, but Jesus. He wanted to tell her to do whatever was the audio equivalent of keeping it in her pants, but he feared that would puncture the pleasant détente they seemed to have achieved.
Anyway, that his train of thought was derailed by the second thing that happened, which was that Kat moaned.
Kat, who was standing on his porch, gripping the railing with all her might, doubled over in what looked—and sure as hell sounded—like pain.
He dropped both boards and covered the rest of the block at a sprint. “Kat! What’s the matter?”
Her head shot up, and she glared at him like when they were kids and she’d caught him going through her diary. “I’m having this fucking baby three weeks early, that’s what’s the matter. Three weeks early and on your porch.”
His worst fear had come to life. This was exactly what he’d been on her case about the last month or so when she’d insisted on coming to the island despite his objections. “Goddammit! I told you a thousand times to stay on the mainland this last month.”
“Yeah, well, I told this baby a thousand times to stay inside until she’s due because the nursery isn’t even remotely ready and— Ahhhh!”
That wail. It made its way inside him and sank barbed-wire claws into his soul. His sister was going to die on his porch. His vision started to get blurry. There were a bunch of things he needed to tell her, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the necessary words.
“Okay,” Amy said, jogging up the path. He was still standing in the yard, but she slipped past him and made her way up to the porch. “First labors usually take a long time, right? I’m pretty sure I read that somewhere.” She spoke soothingly and laid her hand on Kat’s forearm. “So I’m sure you have plenty of time.” She turned to him. “Call 911.” Her voice was still calm. He nodded.
“Plenty of time, my ass!” Kat shouted. “This baby is— Ahh!” Another ungodly wail.