The Same Deep Water by Lisa Swallow Page A

another man who wants to hold me and kiss me, I don’t have to fight my feelings for Guy.
    Feelings? Physical attraction that would lead to an emotional attachment I’m unsure I want. One that’s happening involuntarily. I now struggle to sit close to Guy without remembering his strength and warmth. I don’t hug people; touching anybody is rare and his embrace tapped a hole into the wall against the need for physical contact. Just as he drew me from the edge three months ago, he’s pulling me to a stronger bond with the world – a human one.
    Bucket list. Partners. Subject change. “So, your list. Which did you come up with to do next?” I ask.
    “I want to skydive.”
    “I’ve no idea why you would, but okay.”
    He straightens in his chair, eyes brightening. “Plus, I can take you surfing. We can take a weekend out.”
    “A weekend where?”
    “South. There’s a skydiving company down there, great views of the coast from the plane.”
    “That you intend to jump out of even though the plane’s functioning perfectly.”
    He makes a soft sound of amusement and watches me expectantly.
    “Oh. Um.” A weekend. Us. “I might be busy.”
    “You’re worried about going away with me?”
    “No. Yes. I don’t know. After the other night...”
    “I promise not to kiss you, even if it rains.” He smiles. “Invite your housemate, I know somebody who has a holiday place near Dunsborough. Practically beach front.” He pauses. “Lots of bedrooms.”
    I rub my hands together under the table. Why do I have so many items on my bucket list that include water? “I’m not sure about the surfing just yet.”
    “Come on, Phe. Best time of year. Plus, you’re still several items behind me.”
    “Aren’t there a lot of sharks around that part of the coast?”
    “Even better, two birds with one stone. You surf, I swim with sharks.” He grins.
    I shake my head at him. The challenge to myself to overcome my fear of water could be about to take a step in the right direction.
    “This weekend?” I ask.
    “The sooner the better, time is of the essence and all that crap.” Guy picks at the edge of a napkin, the darkness flickering in his eyes again, before he looks up. “If you’re free.”
    What the hell, why not? “Okay.”
    We step back from the brink of the subjects we avoid and spend the next hour together. Over a meal, we chat – mostly about what I’ve been doing in the time apart, our meeting feeling more like a date by the minute. We easily slip back into the comfort of each other’s company until by the end of the evening, I’m aware how relaxed I am around Guy and how much I missed him.
     

 
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
     
    Six months in Perth and I’ve never ventured far from the city and suburbs; friends from work often go “Down South” to the Margaret River region at weekends. Focused on my everyday routine in an attempt to stay grounded, taking impromptu breaks away hasn’t been on my agenda.
    Guy picks me up in a Jeep this time and I query how many cars he has. He tells me four, with a teasing grin, but I’m not entirely sure he’s joking. A worn surfboard is strapped to the roof rack, which I avoid looking at – or thinking about throwing myself to the mercy of the waves.
    The drive takes less than three hours, the highway heading through the urban sprawl of Perth until the buildings thin to brown bush bordering the straight roads instead.
    Guy looks tired again today, not unwell, but shadowed eyes as if he isn’t sleeping. He’s back to the quirky-humoured Guy I usually spend time with; but after our meeting the other day, I’m more aware that his smile hides secrets.
    “Are you feeling okay at the moment?” I ask.
    “I’m all good, Ophelia.”
    “Don’t call me that,” I snap back. “Phe.”
    “I think Ophelia’s a great name.”
    “I don’t. Don’t use it.”
    Guy purses his lips and keeps driving. “Why?”
    “Because I don’t like her story.”
    “Yours or