“I did it!” I shout, watching the enormous fish flip and flop on the end of my first fishing line.
“Your first silver!” cries Luke, grabbing a net and holding it under the agitated salmon. “I’ve got him! I’ve got him.”
I walk my fly fishing pole over to the shore, and Luke takes the hook from the salmon’s mouth while it’s still in the net.
“It’s a beauty,” he says. “You’re a natural!”
I smile from ear to ear, exhilarated by my first catch. “I have a great teacher.”
One of the lodge fishing guides, Meredith, comes over to us with a bucket of water. “Nice catch! I can take it to the chef if you want it for dinner?”
Luke looks over at me and I shake my head. “It’s too pretty to eat. I think I’m more of a catch and release sort of girl.” Both Meredith and Luke look at me like I’m crazy, so I shrug sheepishly. “I’d feel bad eating it. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.”
“Ooo-kay,” says Meredith, pebbles along the shoreline crunching under her boots as she leaves us to check on a fishing party of four a little ways up the river.
“Heartbreaking,” says Luke, leaning down to put the gasping fish back into the water.
I watch its shimmery body orient itself for a moment before it realizes it’s free and swims away. It makes me smile.
“Could’ve been a good dinner,” grumbles Luke.
“Makes a better fish,” I answer.
“May as well call it a day if you’re going to let them all go,” he says. “Besides, didn’t you have some work to do?”
I nod. “I thought I’d finish the rough draft of my story this afternoon, and maybe you could take a look at it for me. I want to be sure that I represent Sitka in a way that makes you proud.”
“Sure,” he says, taking the fishing pole from my hand and heading away from the river, toward the lodge on the other side of the island.
Something’s different about Luke today, I think, watching him head up the dirt path with his head down. I’d almost think he’s a little sad if I knew him better. He’s quieter than usual—less chatty, less flirty, more…subdued. I don’t know why.
Last night, after our walk and dinner on our private balcony, we made love for hours: with my back against the tile wall of the shower and sitting on Luke’s lap in the brown leather chair. Later, in bed, with my naked breasts pressed flush against his chest, heart to heart, he asked me to tell him more about my “next-someone list,” and I told him I wanted the sort of blow-my-mind chemistry I had with him. He’d stared at me for a long time after I said that, his eyes intense, but inscrutable. Finally, he’d kissed me like the world was about to end then told me he was tired. I rolled over, pressing my back to his front, and with his strong arm binding me to him, I’d fallen quickly asleep.
Today at breakfast he talked about coming to Sitka as a teenager, how he’d fallen in love with the beauty of Alaska, and though he didn’t originally want to leave Seattle, he’d quickly become grateful for the move. Honestly, I can see what he means: Sitka is spectacularly beautiful, safe and clean, brimming with kind neighbors and an enviable sense of community. But honestly, our talk made me miss Seattle too: the concerts and art exhibits, festivals and music. The convenience of living in a big city. The way there is always something new to do or see.
I just—
Well, I just couldn’t help picturing myself in Seattle with Luke. Going to a concert together. Taking the ferry over to Whidbey Island. Riding bikes along the Green River. Cheering on the Hawks from box seats procured by Jude. Catching a first-run movie on a Friday night, or a first-rate meal at a world-class restaurant. Our hometowns are as different as night and day, and yet, as I kept picturing him in mine, it ached a little that it can never be.
Neither of us has challenged our original agreement to keep things temporary and casual. And for whatever reason—maybe part of me is a little old-fashioned—if he’s interested in making a change, I want him to say it first. I want him to ask me to stay longer, to want me to come back…hell, to come down to Seattle and give what we have a real chance.
But he hasn’t said anything like that. He’s been sweet and wonderful, and the sex has been phenomenal. But he hasn’t asked any more of me than what we originally agreed to.
I need to make my peace with the reality I’m in and stop wishing for the fantasy I can’t have. If I don’t, I’ll drive myself crazy.
“You good back there?” he asks over his shoulder.
“Yep,” I say, sidestepping over a boulder as the lodge comes into view. “Just…thinking about Sitka.”
“And…what have you been thinking?”
“That it’s been an amazing place to visit,” I answer. “I’ll always remember my time here.”
“Oh. Right. That’s good,” he says softly. He turns around to face me but keeps his eyes down. “I’ll, uh…I’ll go return these poles and meet you back at the room, okay?”
“I’ll go with you,” I say.
“Nah,” he says, glancing over at the tackle shop, which is in the opposite direction from our room. “It’ll just take a second. You go get started on your work.”