Page 88 of Came the Closest
I laugh outright. “I’m not buttering up to anyone—If anything, I’m kissing up to you, but in a literal sense.”
“You think you should take Milo.” She tilts her head, offering no reaction to my joke. “Why?”
I inhale a long breath. “Because one, the yacht club is actually the sailing club for children. He doesn’t love anything as much as he loves his sailboats.”
She leans against the cedar shake siding. “True. Go on.”
“And two,” I say, voice thickening, “it’s what I would’ve wanted my dad to do.”
Her expression softens. “Took you to work with him?”
I give a short, quick nod. Anything more and it will trigger the waterworks. I’m not above crying, not even being a man, but not today. Not before this meeting.
Keep your chin held high, darling, my mother used to say. That way you can cry, but the tears won’t fall, and no one will know.
Sharp, unexpected grief slices through my chest. I inhale sharply. Now is not the time to grieve my late mother. I haven’t cried about losing her—really, truly losing her—since Indi reappeared in May. I won’t cry about her today, either.
“Okay, then.” Cheyenne palms my jaw and presses on tiptoe to kiss me. “You’ll take Milo with you. And for the record, you look insanely hot in that polo.”
“Temperature hot,” I clarify, “or GQ Magazine hot?”
Cheyenne laughs. “Sexiest Man Alive hot.”
Just for that, I spin her so my back is to the street, hers pressing into the siding, and I kiss her again.
The Falls Lake Yacht Club sits on prime waterfront property on the northwestern side of the lake. Tiny sailboats and large sailboats alike bob in the water at the docks, hydrangeas spill over tall ceramic planters flanking stately double doors, and the siding is pale eggshell blue. The two-story rectangular structure, supported by opulent white pillars, reads country club meets sailing school.
“Okay, hold it. Outfit check.” I stop before we reach the doors, and squat in front of Milo. I pretend to straighten the collar of his short-sleeve white button up as if he’s wearing a bowtie. “You look good. How about me?”
Milo mimics my movements by fiddling with the collar of my polo. “You look good too!”
Graham, wearing a black suit, complete with its jacket, strikes a pose. Hip popped, chin tilted up, gaze downcast. “What about me?”
“You look good, too,” Milo tells him, dissolving into giggles.
“Just good?” Graham feigns disappointment. He sniffles and wipes his eyes, shoulders slumping. He holds up a hand. “It’s okay, I’m fine. It’s not like I spent an hour picking out my clothes or anything.”
I straighten, taking Milo’s hand again, his little blue backpack on my shoulder. Indi shoved three coloring books, a box of crayons, and a book into it before we left. I stopped her before she could add anything else in between the snacks stuffed into the front pocket.
Graham opens the door for us, and I blink to adjust to the dimmer lighting. The Yacht Club is nice but outdated by forty years. Tile floors in the foyer meet dull brown carpet in the dining area. Wood paneling covers most of the walls, and offices are boxed off in dingy hallways. A small pro shop with a few pieces of apparel is positioned to the right, and the light over the counter flickers.
I can see why they want to rebrand.
“We’re a little early,” Graham says, glancing at his Apple watch. “Chris said he had another meeting before this, but that we’re welcome to look around. Looks like there’s a vending machine if you want a snack.”
“I have one,” Milo informs him. “Inni made me promise I’ll eat carrots ‘cause I had Lucky Charms!”
“Got it,” Graham says.
“We could look at the sailboats out the windows,” I suggest.
Milo doesn’t wait for me to say anything more. He weaves through circular plastic folding tables and plasters himself to the windows—the only feature that has been updated in this century. If I take in the view through Milo’s eyes, I probably wouldn’t notice the vast blue water or deep green shorelines, just the sailboats lined up primly at the docks.
“I like that one!” Milo jabs his finger into the window. “The blue one!”
There are a handful of blue ones, but I don’t say that. “That looks super cool, buddy.”
Milo looks up at me. “Do we get to go on it today?”