Goodbye to You Read Online Free PDF Page B

laugh, but her sultry tone leaves me lightheaded.
    She holds the heavy camera out, examining the black body, and shrugs. “This? A birthday present from my daddy. I asked for it because . . .”
    Her pause tells me she’s searching for the right words.
    “Memories like these are too precious to chance with a low-quality cell phone camera.”
    She aims the lens at me and clicks the shutter button.
    I hate getting my picture taken and try to throw my arms in the air. She peeks at the screen on the camera and grins, showing me a full-face shot, no hands in the way—and I’m laughing.
    I look relaxed, and something else.
    Heavy doubts still hang like dark clouds, ones I’m afraid will break and rain the family curse of mental illness over me, like my brother and birth mother.
    In these pictures, though, I look the opposite of depressed.
    Happy.
    I haven’t been happy for a long time.
    And I like it.

 
     
    I’m loving this visit to Hemingway Home. It’s a gorgeous property, with so many cute cats and such a rich history.
    It doesn’t hurt that I get to visit the home with Shay.
    Since I got the first photo of him, he’s relaxed and let me take more pictures: him poised to dive into the pool; sitting in the room where Hemingway wrote; and next to the cat house, a perfect miniature of the big house. The best part of each photo, though, is Shay. For a guy who hates having his picture taken, he is photogenic, even model-like.
    He blushes when I tell him he has a gorgeous smile.
    We walk out of the bookstore laden with a couple bags of presents for my family.
    “Hungry?” Shay asks me, but his stomach is rumbling. He is ready to eat, so we’re stopping no matter what I say.
    We leave the property and stroll to the little café named after the four-legged fur babies from the Hemingway Home grounds. The restaurant’s tile floors, pastel tabletops, white walls, and pale blue trim create a refreshing atmosphere, a stark contrast to the sauna-like conditions mounting outside. I wasn’t hungry when we walked in, but the tantalizing scent of fried fish entices me to eat everything on my plate.
    I’m drained from the heat. I can’t imagine heading back out in the stifling mess. Besides, this is as fine a place as any to spend the day.
    My belly likes the idea because everything on the menu is calling my name.
    Thea …
    “Thea? Hey. Ready to go?”
    Shay pays the check, and I leave a tip, contributing something to our day out.
    As soon as we hit the sidewalk, we’re assaulted by one of the Key West chickens pecking around for scraps.
    “Shoo.” I kick in the rooster’s direction, but he is not deterred on his hunt for crumbs.
    Shay laughs. “They’re accustomed to people. It’s a futile effort.”
    “There are more cats and chickens than people on this island.” Another rooster emerges from the alley, clucking and cawing and proving my point.
    I offer to take the shopping bags Shay’s lugging. He refuses but asks, “Can we take these back to your place? And then you can change.”
    “Change? For what?” I’d expected more sightseeing, so I’m surprised by his suggestion.
    He shakes his head, a wide grin lighting his face.
    I swear his teeth are brighter than the scorching mid-day sun.
    I cross my arms in front of me and cock an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Another surprise.”
    “I’m full of them.”
    “You’re full of something,” I crack, and we both laugh.
    No. I snort, and Shay stares at me with wide eyes as I cover my mouth.
    “Classy.” He shakes his head at me, but his tone is joking. We walk toward the condo.
    Not my most sophisticated moment, I admit, but I can’t help it. When I find something hilarious, the snort just kinda happens.
    Like when I watched a couple crazy comedies on DVD with friends in the dorm, and we needed to keep rewinding to listen to parts we missed while I was laughing.
    Snorting.
    There’s a new comedy out I want to see, but Bennie and Leesh refuse to go to the