“Sure,” Taylor said good-naturedly. “I’ll grab a smoke.”
Lord, she thought to herself as she followed Nate into the bedroom. What was going on here? She really didn’t need to help Nate much. He was nine and had his routine down. She’d thought it was an obvious hint for Taylor to leave. Going out to the restaurant with him had gone well—and innocently—enough. Sitting on the bench chatting with him in public was okay, too. But being alone with him tonight in the cottage was another thing altogether. Especially with the undercurrent zinging between them.
Once Nate was ready for bed, he and Carson returned to the main room. Nate hopped onto the futon, and she tucked him in. Looking at his tanned face and watching him yawn, Carson thought how much he’d returned to the boy who’d leaped into the Cove and swam like a fish earlier in the summer. The boy who saved his smiles for her. Coming here had been the right thing to do. Thank you, Harper, she thought to herself, for coming up with the idea of bringing Nate here. And thank you, Dora, for allowing it. She hoped they could keep up the good vibes when they got back to Sea Breeze. A lot, she knew in her heart, depended on what happened with Delphine tomorrow.
“Good night, Nate. I’ll just be outside.”
“Aunt Carson?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think Delphine will remember me?”
She paused. She’d wondered where his thoughts lay concerning the dolphin. Now she knew he was worried. Perhaps even guilt-ridden. She sat down on the futon beside him.
“I can’t say for sure, but I think she will. She’s very smart. She remembered me.”
“But she loves you.”
Carson felt her heart twinge. “Yes, Delphine loves me. But she loves you, too.”
Nate yawned the words: “I love her too. I always will. Even if I never see her again after tomorrow.”
Out of the mouths of babes. Carson felt love bloom in her heart for the boy. He must have discussed this with Joan. This boy understood the difference between a wild dolphin and a dolphin in a facility better than most adults.
“I couldn’t have expressed my own feelings any better,” she told him. “Good night, sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
“There aren’t any bedbugs,” he told her matter-of-factly. “I checked.”
Carson laughed lightly at the literal workings of his brilliant mind. “Good night,” she said again, and then she went to the door, turning off the light as she exited.
Outdoors she could hear the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. She saw his broad-shouldered silhouette standing on their patio, staring out at the Gulf. A trail of smoke rose from his cigarette.
“Here you are,” she said in way of announcement.
Taylor tossed the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it.
“I should be going.”
“Okay,” she said, not sure if it was relief or disappointment she felt. He walked closer to her, and in the shadows she could make out the contours of his face—his strong, Roman nose, his full lips. God, he had a beautiful face, she thought.
“I had a nice time,” he said.
“Me, too. And so did Nate,” she hastened to add. “It was nice of you to take us out on our last night.”
An awkward silence. The night’s sultry summer breeze felt like a caress against her skin. It was heavy with the scents of the sea and a sweetness that had musky notes. She felt his closeness, the slim margin of space between them narrowing as they imperceptibly drew closer and desire welled up, unbidden.
Like the dolphin and the dog earlier on the dock, they inched toward each other, each tentative, almost shy. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the tug. In a single move their lips touched. The fullness of his lips cushioned hers. His arms encircled her, so strong, as they pressed harder together.
This kiss felt so good.
Yet it felt so wrong.
Carson opened her eyes, stiffening her back. She put her hands against Taylor’s chest and drew away, the light dimming in her eyes. She looked out at the moonlight to allow her breath to slow and gather her wits. What was going on in her head, she wondered. Her body enjoyed the kiss. It wasn’t like her to not simply let go with her feelings. The old Carson would have kissed this man good and hard. She wanted him. Yet tonight, even a small kiss had felt like a betrayal.
“Carson?” Taylor’s voice was tentative but he held on to her forearms.
“I’m sorry,” she said, unsure of how to explain her feelings. “I . . . I can’t do this. I’m dating someone.”
“Oh,” he said, and, letting go of her arms, took a step back.
Carson blew out a plume of air and lifted her long shank of hair from her back. “This is so weird. I don’t know what to say.”
“Are you engaged?”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “No,” she said again.
“I’m glad.”
Carson didn’t want to encourage him. “But we have this understanding. It’s kind of exclusive.”
“I respect that,” Taylor said.
A bird called out in the night, a melancholy sound.
“I better go.”
“Look, Taylor,” she said, stopping him. “I’m really glad I got to know you. You’re a great guy.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “And I meant it when I said if you’re near Sullivan’s Island, look me up. We can be friends, can’t we?”
He offered her his crooked grin. “Good luck tomorrow with Delphine.”
Carson watched him walk away with a pang of regret. Taylor had never answered her question.
Chapter Sixteen
Sullivan’s Island
The moon was a slim crescent in the velvety sky. Venus shone bright to the north. Harper sat at the edge of the dock, her feet dangling in the cool water, and looked up at the night sky, thinking how much she loved being here, sitting under a sky that mirrored the South Carolina flag. When did this love affair with the lowcountry begin? she wondered.
She kicked her legs back and forth, feeling the power of the current. She’d always enjoyed her visits here, but when she was a child she thought of Sea Breeze as a kind of camp. A place to run wild and have fun with the other girls. Someplace that one returned home from. Like Dora had said, being at Sea Breeze wasn’t real life.
Or was it? This summer Harper had returned as a woman—despite Mamaw’s insistence on continuing to call them her “summer girls.” In the past months Harper had come to appreciate that the slower-paced life here in the lowcountry was indeed real. It was just very different from what she knew in New York, or in the Hamptons, or England. Or, she thought, was this summer only a respite from the pressing demands and expectations that she would have to face at summer’s end?