Page 17 of Kissing the Shore

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I mentally smack myself in the face… Hanna! Remember, Hanna.

“Hanna wants me to convince you to talk to her,” I blurt.

“Subtle,” He laughs. “Is that why you wanted me to come over?”

“Well, she asked me to call you.”

“But you invited me over.”

I shrug, “I kinda miss hanging out.”

He grins, “Just admit it. You miss me.”

I toss a throw pillow across the couch at him, “Shut up.”

“Well, I give you an A for effort, but I’m not ready to talk to Hanna. She’s just going to have to give me space. She shouldn’t expect me to be ready to have dinner with her and Jameson.”

I cringe, “Not dinner. Maybe just let her apologize. I know she feels terrible.”

“I don’t want an apology. I wanted a wife.”

His words are like a knife straight to my chest, and let’s just go ahead and twist it because I’m nothing like Hanna. The girl he actually wanted.

“She’s not gonna just let it go. She cares about you still.”

He’s quiet but then cracks a smile. “This is the best part of the entire movie.”

“Would you focus?”

“No. I’m done with that conversation. DONE.” He enunciates.

For a moment, I don’t really know what to do. He honestly sounds mad. I think back to how I found him that day on the beach and decide that he’s rightfully upset, and if he needs time, he will get it. I’m going to make sure he gets it. So I lighten the mood.

“Remember like two years ago when we went to that county fair outside of town, and my date ended up finding his baby momma at the tilt-a-whirl and left with her?”

He rolls his eyes and smiles, “How could I forget. You were all like: but he was so nice, Eric.”

He tries to imitate my voice, and it makes me laugh.

“In my defense, he was, in fact, really nice. Anyway, do you remember what you did?”

“Did I punch him? Because if so, it’s a little late for a lawsuit.”

I laugh, “No, silly.”

He tilts his eyebrows together, confused, “I don’t remember.”

I jump from the couch and run to my bedroom, flinging my closet door open and grabbing the biggest eye sore on the face of this earth, dancing as I make my way back to the living room.

“Oh. My. God.” He cackles, “I forgot all about this little guy.”

He takes the stuffed duck and wiggles it around, “Limp duck. I can’t believe you still have this thing.”

“You saved my night. So I saved the limp duck. I felt like I owed it to him.”

He stares at the faded yellow, tiny duck and smiles. “The plan was to win you the big prize and take your mind off of that asshole.”

I grin as I watch its head fall to the side due to the lack of stuffing, “But you didn’t. You won this, and we laughed all night about this pathetic limp duck. It was even missing one eye.”


Tags: Kirstie Goode Romance