My Single-versary (Happy Endings 0.50)

She pauses like this is tough for her, and I give her time.

“He was big into water sports, so he insisted I go. But I had no clue what to do, and when I asked, he told me to just get in the water and I’d figure it out. ‘Nothing can go wrong,’ he said.”

“Plenty of things can go wrong,” I say calmly, despite my anger on her behalf. “What happened?”

“I got nervous and put my feet down on some coral.” I hiss in sympathy, and she winces. “Slashed my foot and wound up in the hospital.”

“Ouch. Coral is vicious. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I had no idea. Which, I suppose, makes me foolish.”

“Nah, you’re not foolish.” I lighten my tone. “Coral appears pretty, like a lovely ocean friend, but it can hurt like the dickens.”

“Right? I had no idea it would sting so badly. And then I suppose you add in my instinctive fear of sharks.”

I nod solemnly. “Understandable.”

“And those currents that pull you under or sweep you out to sea.”

“Not too many of those out here.”

She scoffs. “I bet you say that to all the nervous tourists. Anyway, that’s how I became an anti-snorkeler.”

“I accepted your challenge, didn’t I? My job now is to make you love snorkeling as much as you love coffee.”

“Good luck with that,” she says dryly. “Because I really love my coffee.”

“Have a little faith. I know what I’m doing. And snorkeling is awesome. It’s peaceful and beautiful and eye-opening. And I understand the ocean can be terrifying if you don’t spend a lot of time around it. So how about I just stick by you when you go underwater?”

She glances at me in surprise, as if sticking by her would be a hardship. “You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

“What about the others?” She glances toward the bow where a majority of the guests are gathered around Jimmy, who’s pointing out various sights on the horizon.

“I’ve got assistants here. I’ll keep an eye on you. I want you to have fun, Skyler, and to enjoy the ocean in a whole new way. And I’m not going to let you go into the water without any instructions.”

Her shoulders drop from where they were hunched around her ears. “Thanks. I mean, I didn’t think you would, but . . .”

“Hey, you’re in the hands of a professional snorkel-lover now.” I flash a grin, which she returns. “Let’s start with some general tips.”

I give her the dos and don’ts of snorkeling, and she’s focused in like I’m giving her the answers to Final Jeopardy.

She’s a quick study, though, and by the time we’re anchored and ready to go in the water, and she strips down to her swimsuit—holy shit, that bikini—her nerves seem as much from excitement as fear.

Obviously, I need to give myself some tips of my own.

Do focus on the job.

Don’t stare at your guest, no matter how good she looks in that bikini.

Trouble is, rules only keep you on course if you follow them.

5

Skyler

A fish as shimmery as a sapphire wiggles past me. It’s so gorgeous I want to gasp here in the serene cool waters. Instead, I manage a snorkel smile, flashing it at my hunky tour guide, but I don’t linger on him for long, because a school of butterfly fish zips past us at Mach Speed.

A few feet away, a quartet of bright yellow tangs swims in and out of the rocks.

It’s official. I’m converted. Sebastian the crab was right—it’s better under the sea.

Serene and beautiful, and so out of my comfort zone, but Caleb sticks near me the whole time, and that’s all I need to feel safe.

We surface with a splash. I want to crow with excitement, but I still have the snorkel in my mouth. I might cry with relief too—not so much that I survived but that I loved it. I feel bigger somehow with this new experience.

I remove the mouthpiece and slick my hair back from my face as I grin at Caleb bobbing beside me. “That was incredible.”

His smile is dazzling, even after the spectacle of the reef. “Amazing, right? Easily a few thousand white-spotted damsels.”

“That’s what they’re called?” I ask. It’s charming. “That’s a great name for a fish.”

“And we just swam right through them.”

“It was just like you said—beautiful and somehow both peaceful and exciting at the same time.”

He beams like I’ve made his day. Maybe his week. “I’m glad you liked it. I’m glad you tried it.”

“You know what?” I confess. “I am too.”

“So . . .” He tilts his head, exaggerating the delay. “That’s score one for the snorkel lover?”

“I thought it was just”—I wiggle my eyebrows—“the lover?”

I mean for it to be teasing, and it is.

But it’s flirty too.

He meets my gaze, still grinning, all confidence, all in with the flirt. “That works too.”