The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,82

a favor if I slipped under the sea and never came back.

I padded back to him on bare feet, pausing for a few moments to watch the flickering candlelight reflecting off the planes of his face. I bent down to blow out the candles and squeezed back onto the couch behind him, curling my body around his. He shifted a little, and I inhaled his hair, kissing his sore shoulder. I snuggled closer to him, finally falling into an uneasy sleep.

I dreamed an electric blue sea churning under a pink sky. I floated on my surfboard in the surrealistic landscape, completely alone, rolling on endless waves of mystery that crested, but never seemed to break. A strange mermaid’s head pierced the surface, followed by another, and another, until I was surrounded.

“The best way to predict the future,” they sang, “is to create it.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

WARNED

“Hey Dollface,” his voice softly called me, “Wake up.”

I sat up, blinking myself back to consciousness. Ethan put his arm around me and started nuzzling my neck, sniffing behind my ear.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” I asked in a rough voice, looking around, trying to get my bearings in the pre-dawn pitch black.

“I’m sorry it’s so early… But I’m gonna need a ride to work,” he said, “I made you some coffee.”

He got up and went over to my little makeshift kitchen, returning with two cups.

“Where are you going so early?” I asked, stretching and yawning.

“I’m crewing another fishing charter for my dad.” He set them on the table, sitting down close to me with a smile, “Can you drop me off at the Marina… Marina?”

I yawned, “Sure…What time is it anyway?”

“It’s five. I wish I didn’t have to wake you up. I didn’t know you had overnight plans for me.”

I blushed, looking down. All the sadness from the night before came flooding back to me, tightening my throat, “OK.”

“Are you alright?” he asked.

I nodded yes, reaching for the coffee, and asked hopefully, “Can we go surfing after you get back?”

“Sorry, but I have a couple of jobs lined up for this afternoon. They’re gonna keep me going all day.”

My God, I thought, it’s getting worse. My eyes welled up and burned with hot tears, and I turned my head so he couldn’t see. I tried to blink them back, but they spilled over, rolling down my cheeks and splashing onto my lap.

“Hey!” he reached over to turn my face towards his, alarmed, “What’s wrong?”

I swallowed, meeting his eyes, “Don’t you think you’re working a little too hard lately? I mean… you never want to do anything else anymore…”

He draped his arm around me, pulling me close, “I’m sorry, don’t be upset. I just wanted… I just needed…” His voice trailed off as he stroked my back thoughtfully.

“I’m fine,” I straightened up and wiped my eyes. I shouldn’t make him feel bad with my self-pity. He couldn’t help it; it wasn’t his fault.

He squeezed me a little, “It’ll be different once we’re married.”

I sighed, looking down again. His vision of a sweet idyllic future was like an old story that was no longer entertaining. I’d heard it so many times I doubted if it could ever be true.

He nudged me, “Hey, what are you doing on Friday?”

I forced a smile, “I don’t know. What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s spend the whole day together… Just me and you.”

“Surfing?” I asked hopefully.

He looked at me speculatively, “I have a surprise.”

“What should I wear?”

“You’re perfect just the way you are,” he said, right before he kissed me.

I dropped him off at the harbor just in time to see the first brilliant rays of light peek over the horizon. He told me that he’d pick me up at Abby’s first thing in the morning on Friday, and gave me a goodbye kiss so full of love and longing that it took my breath away. I started to feel a tiny flicker of hope that maybe I could get him to slow down a little bit. I drove back to my studio, looking forward to a day of painting and reading in solitude.

Around lunchtime Cruz called, bubbly and full of stories about Shayla’s continued success in Paris. Listening to him made me feel better, but it also reminded me of Evie and Olivia.

“Do you know when Evie’s coming back to San Francisco?” I asked him casually.

“She’s flying in on Saturday. That’s one of the reasons I called,” he said excitedly, “We’re invited to her place for a dinner party Sunday night in