“You should. There are a couple of surf schools on the island. I took lessons when I first moved here, and I get out whenever I can. I like the South Shore beaches, Cisco or Surfside usually.”

“I’ve lived here all my life and haven’t gotten around to it yet. Someday.”

“So, what do you like to do, then?”

Andrea thought for a minute. “This. I love to go out to dinner or drinks. And when the weather is nice, I like to just be at the beach. I did try paddle boarding last summer. That was fun.”

“If you can do that, you can surf.”

“Maybe you can give me a lesson,” she teased.

But he took her seriously. “Anytime. Just say the word.”

“Another round?” The bartender noticed that their glasses were almost empty. Andrea had already had two glasses of wine, which was usually her limit.

“What do you think?” Marco asked.

“Sure, why not?” Andrea found herself saying. She didn’t really want the night to end just yet. Didn’t want to go home alone to her small cottage and get depressed again thinking about her job search. She wanted to keep forgetting everything for just a little while longer.

She and Marco lingered over their drinks, chatting and laughing. They learned that they liked a lot of the same TV shows and were both baseball fans. Andrea loved going to Boston for a night or two and taking in a Red Sox game.

Marco insisted on paying even when she tried to give the bartender her credit card. “But there were two of us.” She had owed Hallie so was planning on treating tonight.

“Well, I did crash your night with your sister. Let’s consider it a celebration for your promotion.”

“My promotion?” She was a little fuzzy from the third glass of wine and was about to correct him and say ‘demotion’. But he spoke first.

“Yes, in my opinion this is a much better job. General manager just seems stressful. Can you honestly say that job was fun?”

Andrea laughed. “Fun? No.”

“See? Work should be fun.”

“My sister said that earlier, too. Thank you, Marco.”

“She’s a smart girl.” Marco signed the charge slip and they headed toward the door.

When they stepped outside, Andrea tripped and almost went down, but Marco caught her.

“Thank you, again.”

Marco looked at her and hesitated for a moment. “Why don’t you let me drive you home? You can get your car in the morning?”

“That’s way out of your way.” Andrea lived by The Whitley which was a good fifteen to twenty minutes away. Marco was less than a mile down the road.

“I don’t mind. Let’s go.”