She replied with a bunch of emojis—the sun, a pair of sunglasses, a bathing suit, a tropical drink, a beach umbrella, a big wave—and told me to have fun.
I grinned. The beach. It had to be the beach. He remembered what I’d said about the ocean, and he was taking me to see it. My chest tightened as my heart drummed with excitement. God, he was perfect. He was everything.
“Know where we’re going?” he asked once our bags were loaded and we’d hit the road.
“Not for sure.” I couldn’t stop smiling.
“No guessing,” he ordered. “I want it to be a surprise.”
“How long does it take to get there?”
“You sound like my niece and nephew. Not that long,” he promised, placing a hand on my leg. “One or two hours, maybe.”
A couple hours later, we were still on the road, stuck in traffic. But I didn’t care—we’d rolled down the windows, and I could smell the ocean. I kept inhaling deeply, unable to get enough of the warm, salty air.
“Sorry we’re not there yet. I wish we could have come during the week. Everybody wants to be at the beach on the weekend. Oh, fuck!” He realized he’d given away the surprise and clapped a hand over his mouth.
“It’s okay,” I told him, patting his leg. “I had a feeling it was the beach when you said to pack a swimsuit, and then Ellen sent me a bunch of emojis that sort of gave it away.”
He groaned. “See? Fucking Ellen and her big mouth. I don’t know why I told her the truth. I should have told her I was taking you camping or something.”
“No, this is perfect! It will still be a surprise to see it and swim in it and hear the waves. I can’t wait.”
In a move that shocked me, he took my hand from his leg and kissed my fingers. “Good. I love seeing you so excited.”
As we turned from the freeway onto a beautiful road shaded with palm trees on either side, I thought my heart might burst right out of my chest. We drove past a gate that said Ritz Carlton, and I stared at Derek. “Is this… Are we…staying here?” There was a Ritz in Moscow, but it was so expensive and luxurious, I’d never even crossed its doorstep.
“Yes. I’ve driven by this place and always wanted to come here. You gave me a reason. So thank you.”
I couldn’t even speak.
We checked in, and the ocean beckoned to me through big glass windows in the lobby. “It’s so beautiful,” I said, my voice full of awe.
Derek smiled. “I asked for a room with an ocean view, so you can see it any time you want.”
As soon as we got into our room, I dropped my bag to race out onto the balcony, which overlooked the ocean, as promised. I drew in deep breaths as I drank in the sight of so much blue. “I can’t get enough,” I said when Derek joined me. “It’s even more incredible than I thought.”
Pressed close behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Want to take a walk on the beach?”
“Yes. Although this is nice, too. Being alone here with you.” I covered his arms with mine.
“I promise you’ll have plenty of both the beach and being alone with me.”
I sighed, closing my eyes. “Is this real? Don’t tell me if it isn’t.”
“It’s real.” He kissed my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. Rested his forehead against my temple. “It’s real.”
Later, after we’d walked on the beach and swum in the ocean and drunk colorful cocktails as we watched the sun go down, we went back to the room to clean up. As thrilling as it had been to get in the ocean for the first time, I was even happier watching Derek get dressed for dinner. It seemed ridiculous that something mundane like watching him iron a shirt or shave, or style his hair or button his shirt could have such an effect on me, but it did. I could still hear his voice in my head. It’s real. It’s real.
I felt like it was. The more time we spent together, the more willing I was to do whatever it took to keep it. I hadn’t moved here expecting to meet someone, but life was strange and wonderful, and I had to believe that this feeling had a purpose. It was too strong, too good, too unlikely for it to be random. Everything inside me, every instinct I had, was telling me to fight for him.
But what weapons did I have? What could I give him in return for changing his life for me? Sex didn’t seem like enough. What else did he want?
“So tell me more about what you would do with that house. And did you make the appointment to see it yet?” We were at dinner, sitting on the hotel restaurant patio overlooking the ocean.
He turned his head to look at the water. “Not yet. I don’t know that I want to see it.”
“What? Why not?”
The waiter appeared with our drinks, and asked if we were ready to order. Once he’d left us alone, I asked again. “Why don’t you want to see the house?”
“Because what’s the use? I can’t buy it. My dad was right—I don’t have the time for a project like that. I probably never will.” He picked up his wine and drank.
“You asked your dad about it?”
“Yeah. It didn’t go well. He wants me to take on more work, not less. I’ll get more money too.”
“But what about all the things you told me about creativity and risk and passion?”
He shrugged. “It was just an idea, and not a very practical one. There are other things I want more. And you know what?” He drank again and set down his glass before leaning toward me. “Let’s not talk about that stuff. We’re here to have fun, and I don’t want to think about anything beyond that. All that matters is now.”
But I don’t want to be just fun to you. I want to matter. I want to mean something. I want to talk about where we can go, what we can be.
I want you to let me in.
I was beginning to worry it wasn’t going to happen.
Thirty-One
DEREK
Denial was a game I played well.
The field was familiar, I had all the strategies memorized, and the uniform fit like a glove. I’d worn it practically my entire life. Don’t want to feel something? Refuse to feel it. Don’t like the thoughts in your head? Reject them. Don’t like the person you really are? Pretend he doesn’t exist. You’re only lying to yourself—and what does that matter? Thanks to years of practice, I was an expert at keeping the outside neat and tidy, even if the inside was a fucking wreck. Especially if the inside was a fucking wreck.
And it was.
I kept waiting to be sated, to feel as if I’d had my fill of him, so I could walk away from this experiment and get on with my real life. But it didn’t happen.
Every day my feelings for Maxim grew stronger. Every night we spent together brought us closer. Every moment we were apart was spent thinking about the next time we could be together. What was supposed to be a quick, indulgent fuck fling was trying to be something else entirely.
I refused to let it. My limit had been reached. After that night in the shower, I’d folded up my feelings like a sweater and packed them away. Told myself it wasn’t love; it was infatuation. Novelty. The kick of eating forbidden fruit. The rush of being bad. It was just his presence in my house that was making it seem so intense. Once he was gone, I’d be fine.