The physical difficulty of paddling past breaking waves prevented Abby from continuing her interrogation. It was obvious that she considered Paul a catch. Ella hoped her sister wouldnt make any more pointed remarks.
Abby meant well. She thought Ella needed to get out more, and she was right. Ella spent too many hours staring at a computer screen, pondering theories and studying graphs. Even when she wasnt indoors, she lived inside her own head. She was socially awkward. Most of her interactions with the opposite sex were platonic.
It was a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, however. Abby acted as if Brooke was her entire world and she had no room for romance. In reality, she was gun-shy. Rays betrayal had split up their family and broken her heart.
Paul led them east along the shore of Santa Rosa before he turned north. Ellas pulse raced with excitement as they headed toward San Miguel. The four-mile gap of open water between them was a dizzying expanse, conjuring images of lurking predators. She wished she hadnt watched so many episodes of Shark Week.
Theyd gone less than a mile when Paul paused mid-stroke. Hed been looking over his shoulder at regular intervals, checking their progress. Ella glanced back to see what was wrong. Brooke and Abby were no longer paddling.
Okay? he called out, patting his head.
Brooke patted her head.
Abby didnt. She was as white as a ghost.