splashes over the side? Trying to see how I’d stack up in a wet T-shirt contest?”
She grins, her eyes focused on me for what seems like the first time today. “That would only be a bonus. I just figured you’d want to rest your knee, and this way, no one will accidentally bump into you.”
The sarcasm I’d been planning to use to continue edging her out of the shell she’s been hiding in this morning slips. Liv is thoughtful in ways most wouldn’t even consider, and at times like this, it completely disarms me.
Red blossoms in her cheeks as she drops my stare like she can hear my compliment.
“What’s Matt like?” I don’t know why I ask. Maybe I do. Maybe I want to hear if her account is anything like Rose’s. If she has the same concerns or if Rose was just saying all of this to yank my chain.
Liv pulls herself back and then blinks several times. “Um, he’s nice. You’d like him. He’s funny, and he likes to be funny, and … yeah, he’s nice.”
I stare at her. That’s about as much of a non-answer as someone can give—the same one she’d given when I’d asked a few weeks ago, too. And this is the first time I’ve seen her frazzled except for the times we went and met the old woman about Ellen. “Is it hard living this far apart?”
Her gaze cuts to me, squinting because even with the overcast weather, it’s blinding out on the water. She shrugs. “It’s complicated.”
I think of Rose’s warning, telling me how difficult it is to get Liv to open up and start to wonder if complicated is the term she uses for all situations she doesn’t want to discuss.
“I told you how we started dating in the sixth grade, so there’s a lot of history. I guess I just expected it to be easier. Sometimes it is. There’d be times where it felt like I just saw him, and I understood the stories he told me with such ease and clarity that it almost felt like I was there to experience it with him, and then there have been days where it feels like we’re strangers, and I don’t know him at all.” Her admission shocks me because, just when I expected her to shut me out, she opens the door a little wider.
A man with a microphone stands in front of us, opening with a joke that makes Liv laugh, her attention flashing to me to see if I heard. I nod. I heard. I hear you, Olivia.
“It’s a little chilly today,” the guy continues. “If you’re from Seattle, you’ll call this spring, but if you’re visiting from somewhere like Arizona like my grandma, you might be calling this frostbite weather. Either way, it’s cold, and if you laugh at my jokes, I promise you’ll get a little warmer. Another helpful tip is to squish a little closer to your neighbor, and if they give you a strange look, just tell them you’re saving them from hypothermia.”
I drape my arm over Liv’s shoulders, pulling her as close as I possibly can, making her smile grow so wide it reaches her eyes as she swats me away. But she doesn’t move.
“We’re going to have fun this afternoon. We’ll see if Mother Nature is our friend or foe as we get going. Hopefully, she’s feeling nice, and it won’t rain, but if it does, we’ll take a quick break, and I’ll have you all line up slowly and go down these stairs behind me to the cabin where some folks are already sitting because they didn’t want to mess up their hair.” He lifts the beanie he’s wearing and runs a hand over his bald head. “As you can see, that wasn’t a concern for me. All right, let’s get started.”
Liv reaches for her phone, snapping a selfie of us before turning the viewer to the shoreline as the tour guide points out The Great Wheel, which we’d seen from the Space Needle both last night and this morning. We pass by the aquarium, waving at Rae Rae, and Pike’s Place Market and the Space Needle.
“I can’t believe how much we’ve already seen,” Liv says, turning to me, her voice a low whisper.
I face her, studying the scant dusting of freckles across her cheeks and the few across the bridge of her nose to her eyes that are a vibrant blue today compared to the gray skies. Strands of her