Sink or Swim by Annabeth Albert

Author:Annabeth Albert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2021-12-02T13:20:39+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Felix

“I’m not sure inventory is something most people do on two glasses of wine,” I complained, but only mildly, to Calder while holding a pen and a clipboard from some pharmacy company giveaway. He’d enjoyed my drawer of random promotional giveaways almost as much as my cluttered pantry.

“If I know what you already have, then it will be easier to see what you need,” he said all reasonably while counting single-serve chip packets. “Oops. Another for the out-of-date pile.”

“Sorry.” I accepted the bag and added it to the trash bag at my feet. We’d found more than a few items that needed pitching. My skin flushed from more than overindulgence in the wine that had tasted far better with Calder. Dinner had been truly lovely. Nice piece of wild-caught Pacific salmon, risotto that no one had interrupted me while making, and wonderful company. Calder was by far the most fun person I’d cooked with in a long time, helpful without being in the way, and delightfully appreciative of the results. We’d lingered over the wine and a cherry tart I’d nabbed at the bakery.

But now, somehow we were doing inventory rather than canoodling on my couch.

“Felix.” Calder looked up from his sorting, voice gentler. “Quit saying sorry. You’re an overworked guardian without a ton of help. So your pantry got a little scary. You keep the kids happy and fed. That’s what matters. And now we get to fix it.”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it. Glad we have mess to keep you from boredom.” I wished I could be as stoked as him about attacking all the clutter that was threatening to overtake the house.

“Hey, come here.” Backing out of the pantry, Calder started to straighten but hit his head on a low shelf. “Ouch.”

“Are you okay?” I pulled him the rest of the way out of the pantry so I could see him better in the kitchen light. “Bleeding?”

“It’s just a bump.” He twisted his mouth in what might have been frustration, I couldn’t tell. “I’m okay.”

“Let me feel.” I reached for his head but he dodged my fingers. “Dizzy at all?”

“No, Doc, no concussion.” Stepping farther away, he made a dismissive gesture. “I got a clean bill of brain health last week. I’m good.”

“You had a doctor’s appointment?” In all our hours of phone conversations he hadn’t mentioned that. I bit my lip, trying not to feel hurt.

Still frowning, he shrugged. “It was no big deal.”

“But now you can go out on the sub again, right?” A boulder landed right in the center of my chest. No more nightly calls. No spontaneous weekends like this. No organization projects. No Calder.

“Not that easy.” He paced over to his abandoned wineglass on the counter, took a sip. “The detailer—personnel in charge of assignments—and higher-ups apparently like me on shore duty. Guess I’m too good at what I’ve been doing, and they want to extend the assignment.”

“Oh. That must be disappointing for you.” Trying not to show

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