The Wrong Gentleman - Page 75

“I just finished my shift.”

“At your waitressing job? How is it?”

“It’s fine. Pays the bills.” I tucked the phone under my chin as I jiggled the key to the room in the lock.

“And how are you—don’t you dare say you’re fine, because we both know that’s bullshit.”

“I have a job, a car, and a roof over my head,” I said as I glanced up at the stained ceiling of the motel room I’d been in for these past weeks. “How are things with you?” I asked to be polite, but I didn’t want to hear about the life I’d left behind. I didn’t want to hear about the Sapphire, the sun, or the cocktails. And I especially didn’t want to hear about Landon.

“One week to go until the end of the season. I can’t wait for it to be over. It’s been weird. And so much worse without you.”

The end of the Med season had come around quickly. I never thought I’d be in Ohio when it did.

I dumped my bag, pulled out the food, and stuffed it into the tiny refrigerator that was noisier than it had a right to be given its size. “I’m sure you’re coping just fine. And it’s great that Captain gave you the chief stew position. You deserved it, and it means next season you’ll have a track record, and you’ll be leading your own team.”

August groaned on the other end of the line. “Are you heading to Florida next week?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I was going to suggest we find a place together.”

I smiled. The chance to see a familiar face in a familiar place sounded tempting, but yachting didn’t feel like the right fit anymore. “I’m not sure I’m going to do next season.”

“Really? You enjoying being back home?”

I took a seat on the bed and glanced around. “It’s not that.” There was nothing about this place to make me stay—no friends, no family, no opportunities. But I didn’t want to go somewhere else just to escape Ohio. I’d done that before. The next time I left it would be because I was heading toward something. “I think that yachting is over for me. It’s been good. I’ve earned a lot of money—”

“But it’s not where your future lies?”

“Exactly.”

“Any thoughts about w

hat you want to do?” she asked.

“A few. Except they all require a college degree. And that’s a lot of money.” There was only one thing I’d ever wanted to be—a lawyer.

“But you have savings, right? And you can work part-time.”

I’d already figured out that with my savings and a job I could make it work, but there were a thousand other reasons why I hadn’t applied anywhere. Landon had opened my eyes to the possibility, but his betrayal meant that I was questioning everything about our time together.

“But it’s four years out of my life. And then grad school.”

“Yeah, but college is fun. It’s not like you’re having to withstand four years of waterboarding. You can enjoy the journey not just the destination.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to get waterboarded. It’s just a big time commitment.”

“But not in the scheme of the next forty years.”

“I guess. But then there’s no guarantee of a job at the end of it.”

“Might as well give up then,” August said. “Come back to yachting, bury your dreams, and come clean toilets with me.”

I laughed. August always had the most charming way of calling people out on their bullshit.

“There are no guarantees in life, Skylar. You, more than anyone, should know that. Go to college. Try it at least.”

“Maybe I will,” I said. August was right in a way. I didn’t have a lot to lose. I could always go back to yachting if I changed my mind about college.

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