“Whatever we want.” He smirks and then shuts the door behind him.
After I shower and pull my hair together, I match his leisurely attire and opt for jeans and a fitted top. When I walk out into the living room, he stands with my jacket already in his hands.
“You’re up to no good,” I tease.
“You look stunning.”
“Yeah,” I quip. “You’re definitely up to no good.”
Once we reach the lobby, he leads me out to the busy streets of The Loop and hails a cab.
“A cab? Where’s your car?”
“We’re lying low today. Trust me,” he says when he opens the door for me. I scoot across the back seat and Declan tells the cabbie, “Navy Pier.”
“Navy Pier?”
“You ever been?”
“Oddly, no. You?” I ask.
“No.”
“So why are we going?”
“Why not?”
His spontaneity makes me smile, and I make the mindful choice to hand myself over to him today. Because, after all, he’s the reason I keep going.
We’re among all the tourists when we hop out of the cab. Two people who blend in with all the others. We walk hand in hand into a souvenir shop and look at all the trinkets, and Declan thinks he’s cute when he buys me a cheesy Chicago shirt that reads It’s better in the bleachers across the front.
“Wasted money.”
He takes the shirt and slips it over my head, saying, “Then you better wear it and not let it go to waste.”
He pulls it down, and when I push my arms out of the sleeves, he takes a step back and smiles.
“Are you happy now?”
He laughs, “You look cute.”
With a roll of my eyes, I join in with a light chuckle. He’s blithe and lighthearted, and it’s refreshing to see this side of him. We’ve had so many days filled with dark clouds and suffocating emotions, but to see that rays of light can break through those clouds gives me hope for us.
We walk along the water enjoying the spring breeze. He buys me a funnel cake when I tell him I’ve never tasted one and then licks the powdered sugar off my lips after I inhale the fried treat. When I’m thoroughly buzzed with sweet carbs, he takes me up to the Ferris wheel.
“Come on.”
“No way, Declan. That is way too high.”
“What are you saying? Tough-as-nails Elizabeth is scared of heights?”
“Umm . . . yeah,” I admit with my head craned back, looking up at the enormous wheel.
“It’s a Ferris wheel!” he exclaims.
“Yes. I know this,” I say, and with my arm up towards it, I exasperate, “and it’s a deathtrap!”
He shakes his head, laughing, “It’s the mildest ride here.”
“Don’t care. You’re not getting me on that thing.”
He releases a heavy sigh and succumbs. “All right. No Ferris wheel.” Taking my hand, he says, “I’ve got something better in mind.”
We make our way over to a small fishing vendor pavilion on the north dock. With bait and rods in hand, we find a spot to cast our lines.
“Give me your rod and I’ll hook the bait for you.”
“I’m capable of hooking it myself,” I say with a confident air.
“Go for it, darling.”
His eyes watch as I dunk my hand into the bait bucket, pull out a shiner, and pierce the hook through it.
Looking up at him holding his rod, I tease, “You need me to help you?”
“I’m impressed.”
“I came from the streets, Declan. Baiting a hook is nothing,” I tell him with a smirk and then cast my line into the water.
“So, I take it you’ve fished before.”
I watch him cast his line out and respond, “No, not really. Only once with my dad. He would hold the rod for me, and when we would get a bite, he’d let me reel it in. What about you?”
“All the time. When I was living here, I’d take my boat out during my down time, which wasn’t often, but I’d get away when I could and toss out a line or two.”
“I got something!” I practically squeal when something tugs on my line. I laugh with childish excitement, and then a little fish surfaces.
“It’s a perch.” He takes the small fish and pulls the hook out, all the while smiling at me.
“I’m winning,” I brag, and when he tosses the fish back into the water, he says, “I wasn’t aware this was a competition.”
“Well, now you are. And you’re losing.”
I grab another shiner from the bucket and cast my line.
“Tell me a story,” I request. “Something good.”
“My darling wants a story,” he says to himself and then takes a moment, squinting against the sunlight reflecting off the water. “I did my undergrad at the University of Edinburgh and was living at my fraternity house. We used to throw a lot of parties. I was never much of a drinker, but it was the end of exam week, and I’d been under a lot of stress. The girl I was seeing at the time was at the party that night, and I had gotten piss drunk. She told me she was going to call it a night and crash in my room since she had been drinking too. She was nowhere near as drunk as I was, but still drunk enough that she knew better than to drive.”