“I definitely fancy them. I’ve been dreaming of those for years.” I twisted in my seat and tucked my legs underneath me. “She was always smiling, I do remember that.”
“She’s an amazing woman. Both my parents are great people,” he said fondly.
“Call her. She’s worried. Okay?”
“I did.”
“Oh? Good.”
Ian chuckled, and I looked to him in question.
“Are you feeling a little loose then, Koti?”
I realized then I was rocking back and forth to the beat of the music. And I don’t mean casually, I mean shoulders and head into it like the guys from Night at the Roxbury.
“Oh, crap.” I pressed an embarrassed hand to my forehead. “I do it at the store too. It’s in my genes.”
“Your father is a musician, right?”
“No, he was a sound engineer, mostly for reunion concerts. He was the guy with the big soundboard in the middle of the crowd. He did a lot of reunion tours for seventies and eighties rock bands.”
“Oh,” he said perking up a bit in his lazy seat. “Anyone I would know?”
“All of them,” I said without missing a beat. “I’m not kidding. All of them.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, my favorite was Stevie Nicks. She is incredible.”
“So, your father knew rock stars and your mother was a model. Some childhood you must’ve had.”
“Yeah, their life.” I shrank in my seat. “Not mine.”
He smirked at me. “And you are the castaway.”
“And loving it.”
He raised a brow. “Right,” he said as he lifted his glass, “to the castaways.”
“To the black sheep.”
“Baaaa,” Ian belted out and we both burst into laughter.
“You look like you’re shedding a little wool,” I noted, glancing at his rapidly slimming physique.
“Yeah, and it’s hell,” he said, patting his stomach. “While you’re clearing naked dead men from rentals, I’m hauling my ass down the beach regretting about a thousand fast meals I ate during my divorce.”
“That bad?” I asked.
“That bad,” he muttered tonelessly as he studied the fire.
I picked up the wine this time. “But it didn’t kill you.”
“No, no it didn’t.”
So, what did?
Just on the tip of my tongue lay the intrusive words but there was no way I was breaking up the carefree vibe. I needed a reprieve from my own shit, just as much if not more than Ian did from anything that had to do with his hurts and I wasn’t about to stir things up. I’d watched him tax his troubles for weeks. And I considered every smile, every laugh that erupted out of him a small miracle.