“Of course. Not like you cared or anything.” I snorted. “Drop the act, because I’ve figured out your secret, Toby Elford. Beneath that raw, carnal, prickly exterior, you’re a giant ball of mush and you care about things.”
I could feel Toby rolling his eyes, though I couldn’t see them. “Of course I care about some things! I care about Mason. And the fate of the polar ice caps. And having job stability. Making sure that every human has the same basic rights. My cute apartment with its ultra-plush mattress and pretty view. Um… not drowning? That’s damn important. So there’s, like, twenty-seven things I care about right there.”
“You might have forgotten a couple, because your love for your plush mattress doesn’t explain why you’d reply to someone whose letter wasn’t getting published.”
“Ultra-plush,” he corrected. “And I happen to reply to all the letters, even the ones that don’t get published. But don’t read into that, Beale,” he hurried to add. “I’m no saint. The best part of my job is that I get to be a snarky know-it-all to people for money. ‘Oh, you’re sad your granddaughter is marrying someone you disapprove of, so you’re not paying for the wedding? Let me tell you where you can stick your trust fund, Ebenezer.’ Or, ‘Oh, you want me to say it’s okay not to invite your neighbors to your barbecue because they practice a different religion and you don’t wanna take ten seconds to ask their dietary requirements? Ask yourself, Sally, if that’s what Jesus would have done.’ But I imagine the people who write me want to be seen, you know? Acknowledged. And even the assholes deserve a minute of my time, if only to set them down a peg or two. Doesn’t make me a saint, though, darling. On the contrary.”
God. The man really had no clue. Toby was the one who didn’t see himself clearly. I kinda understood why—his family sounded like assholes, he couldn’t tell anyone about the specifics of his job, and he probably felt like he was completely alone—but I wished I could make him see himself the way I saw him.
“Toby, you’re really smart and insightful—”
“Oh. Wow. That’s nice of you to—”
“—so I totally don’t get how you can be so dumb about this. You’re not a saint, but you’re a really caring person.”
Toby sighed. “Precious, if you persist in seeing me through rose-colored glasses, far be it from me to—” Toby’s phone, which was sitting on a bench near the pool, chimed with an incoming text, and he sighed again, louder this time. “I’ll bet you five American dollars Jonquil Pepper just had a flash of inspiration that we need a tuba soloist for the party and wants my buy-in.”
I laughed and rubbed my nose against his neck. “And you’re gonna tell her that’s an amazing idea, but maybe not for this particular party?”
“Yes, probably,” he grumbled. “Because it’s more expedient—”
“But it isn’t. Not at all. It’s because you, Toby Elford, care. You actually like the lunatics on this island.”
For a long minute, Toby seemed to ponder this, and then he admitted, “I don’t dislike Whispering Key. I didn’t expect to be able to say that, but there’s a certain charm in people embracing you immediately. It’s a far cry from New York.”
“Yeah? How long does it take to fit in there?”
He chuckled lightly. “I’ll let you know when it happens.”
I turned us in a wide circle, so Toby’s legs fanned out, making ripples in the water. “So why not move? You can do your job anywhere, right? Why not relocate to Whispering Key? I mean,” I added quickly, “a place like Whispering Key.”
“There isn’t anywhere else like Whispering Key. At least not that I’ve ever encountered.”
“So stay here, then.” I tried to sound casual, like my heart wasn’t beating out of my chest at the idea of keeping this thing between us going for longer. “I mean, there’s no reason you can’t stay even after Mason comes back, right?”
“For a little while, I suppose. I might have to, depending on how things work out back in the city.”
Have to was not the same as want to, and I realized I wanted him to want to be here, even after whatever bullshit with his ex-boyfriend… or ex-boyfriends… or whoever the hell he was running from… was over. I wanted him to choose this place. I knew this thing between us was only temporary, but I wanted him in my life anyway.
“You still haven’t told me what’s going on in the city,” I reminded him, and his body tensed in my arms. “But isn’t there something you can do to fix the situation with the two guys? Or will it resolve itself?”
“Eh. Time will tell,” he said vaguely.
“You could tell me what’s going on. I would help you with anyth—”
He shook his head firmly. “No, Beale, I couldn’t. It’s a… a relatively minor personal problem that has nothing whatsoever to do with you, okay?”
“Yeah.” Logically, I knew he was right, but it felt instinctively wrong, like some ass-backward part of me wanted everything that involved him to involve me, too, just because we were sleeping together. “Okay.”
“Besides—” Toby shot me a sly look over his shoulder. “—if we start talking about all the shit I’d rather not talk about, then we’ll have to talk about all the stuff you’d rather not talk about.”
I wondered if he turned the conversation away from himself all the time on purpose or if it was instinctive. Still, I bit.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
That sly look again. “Do you really want to know?”
“Why not?” I turned us in a tight circle again. I couldn’t think of much I wouldn’t want to discuss with Toby. “If I don’t like it, I could always drop you,” I teased, holding him tighter.
“Well, I was thinking about your career concerns.” Toby gripped my arm, like he wasn’t quite sure if I was teasing. “You remember when we were plover-spotting the other day, and I said something along the lines of, ‘Beale, fake conquistador of my soul, what does a plover look like?’ And then you showed me what I should be looking for, including the forehead markings that say they’re down to mate?”
“Of course that’s the part you remember,” I said irritably. Leave it to Toby to actually find maybe the one thing I really didn’t want to discuss with him. “Yeah, so?”
“So… if you hadn’t shown me, how would I have known what I was looking for? I could have been counting bald eagles.”
“There are no bald eagles here,” I scoffed.
“The Universe doesn’t magically give you things,” Toby continued, undeterred. “You tell it what you want, right? What you visualize is what you get.”
I scowled. What was he getting at? I mean, obviously that was the way things worked. I’d visualized myself happy and fulfilled a lot. But the Universe took its own sweet time.
“I told you before, everyone has an opinion on what I ought to be doing for a career, but I like doing lots of different things. I’m happy doing lots of things. Until I know what the path is—”