Chapter Twenty-Two
Amy
“Sleepyhead…”
I put a pillow over my head.
“Sleepyyyheeeead…”
“I’m on vacation,” I grumble.
“Even so. Time to get up.”
Emmett sounds entirely too cheery, which is better than the gloomy mood from yesterday when he was talking about his mom. But I make it a rule not to get up early on vacation if I can help it. Having to get up early and hustle is something work makes me do.
“Give me one good reason,” I mumble.
He kisses my bare shoulder. “Don’t you want to see the kelp forest?”
I crack my eyes open. “The kelp forest?”
“Yup.”
I gasp and come fully awake. “Scuba diving!”
He grins. “Exactly.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” I hop off the bed and rush to the bathroom. “I’m dying to see it.”
He laughs. “Well, you can’t go naked. So get ready.”
“Okay.”
I take a light-speed shower and get dressed. No makeup other than lip gloss, since we’re going to be in the water. Then I toss a cardigan—ocean temperatures tend to be low—and a bottle of sunscreen—because the sun will be high—into my beach tote bag and rush down to meet Emmett on the first floor.
He hands me a small latte and a light breakfast of toast and banana chunks. Gotta get some carbs to keep my energy up before the dive. “Should we pack some snacks and drinks too?” I ask. The air you breathe while diving is dry, which sucks the moisture out of you.
“I already packed everything. And I hired a guide for our dive.”
“You did?” I thought it’d be more private. On the other hand, it isn’t like we can do anything naughty underwater. Can we?
“We probably won’t need her, but it can’t hurt. Besides, it keeps her employed for the day. And I want somebody to take pictures of us.” He grins. “I already briefed her.”
“Good call.” The only thing I regret about my dive tour with Dad is that we have only two pictures of us together underwater.
We drive to the beach. The guide, a lean blond woman named Jessie, is already waiting with my gear. Emmet unloads his own scuba set from the SUV as she helps me put mine on. Surprisingly, there’s no boat in sight.
“Can’t take a boat out,” Jessie tells us when I ask. “It’s, like, totally against the rules here. Gotta protect the marine life, right? But you can take one out if you dive in another spot.”
“The kelp bed is only a quarter mile offshore,” Emmet says. “It’s worth the effort. And the water seems pretty calm today.”
“Okay.” I can probably swing a quarter-mile swim. It can’t be any worse than thirty-five flights of GrantEm stairs.
We change into our gear, check to make sure everything’s in order and enter the surf, holding our fins. My heart thumps with excitement as my feet dig into the sand. Once the water’s slapping our chests, we put on the fins and start snorkeling out. The visibility is excellent in the blue-green water: fish darting, bits of seaweed dancing.
The water’s calm, like Emmett said, and the fins make it easy to swim. So it doesn’t take too long before we’re at the kelp bed. We put on the regulators and dive.
A gorgeous vista unfolds. If I weren’t underwater, I would be sighing with admiration.