Rebound (Boomerang #2)(31)

Now, as Adam and I swim around one another, I feel that same pull. Only it’s different now. It’s not about escaping to some world of my own. It’s about having a world to share, someplace away from my parents and the family business. A bubble where just the two of us exist, two bodies circling one another. Contained and secret, like the backseat of the Murano on Halloween night. Only with fish.

We move together, and I’m conscious of the power of his muscled thighs encased in Neoprene, of his strong arms, pulling him along like the water offers no resistance at all. He smiles from around his regulator and points behind me. I do a lazy turn and come face-to-face with a sea turtle.

Drawing back to give it space, I bump against Adam. He steadies me, and even with the layers between our skin, his touch galvanizes me. We follow the turtle for a while, watching as it passes over undulating anemone and crabs scurrying along the ocean floor. At one point we’re on either side of the creature, close enough to count the spots on its reptilian face, and Adam gives me a look that’s so excited, so alive, that my breath catches in my chest, and I wonder if I’ve run out of oxygen.

Finally, we let the turtle move on without us. Adam points up toward the surface and, reluctantly, I nod.

We climb toward the sunlight, bodies close, and break through. We take off our masks and regulators and grin at each other. A few yards away, the Ali Cat bobs on the water, which is calm now.

“That was great,” Adam says. His wet hair looks shades darker now, creating a deeper contrast with his glistening tan skin. A bead of moisture rests on the indentation above his lip, and I want to touch my tongue to it. I want to touch him, period, so I paddle back a few inches to give us both space.

“Now I’m starving,” he adds.

I laugh. I’m hungry too. For so many things. But among the available choices, lunch seems safest.

“Come on. Let’s see what we can find.”

We climb aboard the Ali Cat and strip off our scuba gear. Adam’s bathing suit slips down low on his hips, so that I can see the smooth contours of his lower abdomen, the hint of white flesh there, untouched by the sun. Our eyes meet for just a moment, and then Adam’s drift away once again. We leave our scuba suits on the deck, like skins we’ve outgrown.

I jump into the shower just long enough to wash the salt from my hair, then dry off and reapply sunscreen. By the time I find another bathing suit, locate my dress, and climb up to the galley, I find Adam with Mia and my father at the narrow banquette. Plates of food and a couple of icy pitchers sit in front of them.

Adam has a couple of sandwiches on his plate plus a heaping serving of sliced mango. He sees me and gestures to the seat beside him. On the table, he’s laid out a plate with the same food. It’s exactly what I want right now.

“Best cure for what ails you . . .” my father says to Mia, but whatever he’s offering, she demurs.

“I’m . . . still a little shaky, but thank you.” Her color looks better and her green eyes more lively, but the smile she offers is still a shaky one.

“What’s a cure?” I ask.

“Bloody Mary,” he says. “Electrolytes.”

I laugh. “Dad. She might want to try Gatorade or something instead.”

He waves a hand at me and turns his full boat grin on her. “Come on! Girl like this has a stronger constitution. Don’t you, dear?”

“I’m flattered you think so, sir, but I think water and crackers are probably about my speed right now.”

Dad tsks. “You’re no fun.”

Sitting here, watching my dad’s flirting, Mia’s discomfort, drags me back to every awkward sorority dinner hosted by my parents, back to my sister’s wedding, where my dad seemed to corner every pretty girl on the dance floor. Most people think he’s wonderful, charming, and he can be. But he also doesn’t know where to stop. That sometimes you can’t have it all. I learned that the hard way.

Images bloom in my mind: our family cabin in Colorado, snow angling down in an opaque blanket. Two sets of boots in front of the fireplace. An empty bottle of Grande Cuvée sweating in an ice bucket. And a jewelry box on the table. Tiffany. Though I never found out what was inside. Or saw the woman who wore it.

I’d come early for our family ski trip, wanting to surprise my parents by stocking the kitchen. Instead, I got the surprise.

“It doesn’t mean anything, Alison,” my father said. “We don’t want to hurt your mother. Not with something like this. What matters is family. Loyalty. That’s what’s real. The rest is bullshit. It’s nothing.”

I don’t know what’s real or not. I just know that my definitions feel shaky. Love. Family. I don’t know what I can count on—least of all myself. So that means focusing on the things I can manage.

“Speaking of fun,” Mia says. “Is Alison doing the dates?”

My father leans forward, eyes keen with curiosity. “What dates?”

Adam’s posture stiffens, and he casts a look my way. The sun carves in from the portholes to shadow his eyes. I wish I could see them.

Mia peels a piece of bread from the top of her sandwich and takes a cautious nibble. “Oh, it’s this thing we do for research. Whenever anyone starts working at Boomerang, they have to go out on a few practice dates. To get a feel for the company.” She shoots me an apologetic look. “But I guess . . . you already did that. In a way.”