Going Under (Wildfire Lake 2)

“True,” I tell them, enjoying their surprise. “Adults like Kat and me have two hundred and six bones, but a newborn baby has nearly three hundred bones.”

“What happens to the extras?” Poppy asks, her tone scandalized.

“Babies have more cartilage, which is softer than bone, and as they grow, some of the cartilage hardens into bones. And some bones fuse together to become one.”

Jazz declares this news gross with a

n emphatic “Ew.”

Kat laughs. “I don’t think that one will be following in your footsteps. My turn.”

She thinks a minute, and the girls wait patiently. They like Kat’s questions better than mine, and I have to hand it to her, she comes up with some doozies.

I glance at the GPS on the dash and take the last right, leading to the Santa Barbara marina’s entrance. The day is moody, with puffy clouds and a stiff wind, but the temperature is mild, and the sight of the sea is relaxing, reminding me that it would be good for all of us to get out together more.

But there’s a kernel of unease in the pit of my stomach. What if I see the catamaran and hate it? What if the girls are scared of sailing?

The idea of flying the girls all over the world for whirlwind sailing trips with Kat seemed like a dreamy idea when we first thought it up, but I’ve discovered some real problems with it over the past week or so. Not with the plan, per se, but with how I feel about the plan. This last week has definitely given me a glimpse of what life could be like with Kat. Which is a double-edged sword, because now that I’ve seen the light she adds to our family, the thought of living without her eight months out of the year, or more, really throws a shadow over my enthusiasm.

I also don’t know what to expect of this friend of Kat’s we’re meeting, but I’m hoping he’s a salty old sea dog. His name is Jaime, the J pronounced as an H, which tells me nothing other than he’s Hispanic. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, because I’m still trying to get a handle on my insecurities where Kat’s past is concerned. Best to wait until I have a solid, mature outlook on the situation before I ask the questions.

“True or false,” Kat says. “A shark has no eyelids.”

“What?” Jazz, always the most expressive, gives Kat innocent attitude. “That’s creepy.”

“True,” Violet says.

“False,” Poppy says, turning to Violet. “I think I saw it happen on one of those nature shows.”

“It’s false,” Kat says. “They do have eyelids. They just don’t blink like us. They use their eyelids to protect their eyes from things in the water.”

“Ew,” Jazz says again, dropping her head back and yelling at the ceiling.

I grin at Kat. “Doesn’t look like she’ll be following in your footsteps either.”

That makes Kat laugh. A light, happy laugh that fills me up and makes me feel whole.

There’s no doubt about it, I’m head over heels. I want to deny it, but I can’t. Not to myself, at least. Part of me wishes it wasn’t true, because I’ve got a bad feeling about how this is going to turn out in the long run. She’s a free spirit. Has never tried to deny it or claim otherwise. She’s been nothing but up front with me, and while I do believe she cares about me, our feelings aren’t equal, putting me—and the girls—in a dangerous position.

“Oh, wow.” Violet’s reverent awe turns Kat’s gaze forward as the marina comes into view. “It’s so big. Like, triple the size of the one at home.”

Violet grips the back of my seat and leans forward to get a better look out the window. “Those boats are huge. Are those the kind of boats you worked on, Kat?”

“I have worked on those kinds of boats, but the job I had that you and I talked about was on a different kind of ship.”

“Even bigger,” I tell Violet, whose mouth is hanging open as I pull into a parking spot.

I take in the marina, and all I see is gray clouds, white boats, and wealth. The flags whap in the wind, and metal hits metal somewhere in the distance. It’s fairly busy, with people walking the docks and working on boats. All men. And I’m reminded of just how many men Kat will associate with on any given day out in the wilds of life.

The girls are already clamoring to get out from the SUV. Kat unbuckles Jazz from the car seat, and my daughter hits the ground running. By the time I pull in a breath to yell, Kat has Jazz’s arm and makes a game of catching her and swinging her to a seat in her arms. No one just meeting Kat would ever suspect she’d never had kids of her own. I’m starting to think the woman is a natural at everything.

“You little monkey,” Kat says, tickling Jazz’s belly as they round the hood to meet us on the other side. “You’ve got to stay close to your dad and me, okay?” Once we’re standing together, she looks at Violet and Poppy. “Think of every boat as someone’s house and the dock as a street. Every boat is privately owned, so we can’t go on them unless we have permission.”

I feel like I did the first time I stepped into a hospital as a medical student—exhilarated and overwhelmed and sure as shit that I was in the wrong place.

“Let’s head to the office.” She sets Jazz down and holds her hand as she follows a sidewalk toward a building. “They’ll know where we can find—”

“Mami!”