The surroundings were idyllic. Almost too perfect. Too civilized. I had this strange thought in the middle of the proceedings that I would have preferred crashing surf on a rocky beach, rugged mountains, and sunlight penetrating fast-moving clouds. The uncompromising, almost harsh beauty of that imagined scene somehow matched better how I felt when I looked into Evan’s gray eyes as we took our vows.
I’m complicated, Anna.
Everything went smoothly, despite my random thoughts about marrying Evan in that other, moody landscape.
Too quickly, it was time for my parents and Jessica to leave. Tommy and Ellen left just before the limousine arrived to take my family to the airport. I became unusually emotional saying goodbye to them all.
After the limousine disappeared down the road, Evan took my hand and led me inside the house. He plucked some tissues out of a box in the kitchen and handed them to me.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I said, wiping my cheeks. He was examining me with a sort of patient compassion, like an adult regards a sobbing child. I was embarrassed. Saying goodbye to Mom, Dad, and Jessica had brought on a strong upsurge of homesickness, even stronger than I’d ever experienced moving alone to San Francisco for college.
This time, saying goodbye to my parents had been different. I wasn’t their little girl anymore. I was a married woman. It had never struck me harder that I was about to enter an exciting dream, but also an alien world.
“I’m fine,” I insisted finally, giving my cheeks one last swipe with the tissues and forcing a smile. “I don’t know where all that came from.”
“Weddings are emotional occasions. You were sad to see your family go,” Evan said, grabbing my forearms and pulling me closer to his body. “That’s completely natural.” He leaned down and brushed his mouth against mine.
“But I can’t say that I’m sorry to have you all to myself again,” he murmured. His low rumbling voice and warm breath against my lips brought back vivid memories of last night. Our wedding night. It had been decadent and beautiful, what had transpired between us in the darkness.
“Do we really have to leave for Tahoe this afternoon?” I asked, nibbling at his mouth. “Can’t we stay here, in Tiburon for a while? Can’t we just enjoy each other a little longer?”
He abruptly caught my mouth in a drugging kiss. I felt his body respond. I felt sure I’d convinced him.
“We’ll leave as scheduled,” he said a moment later, stepping away from me.
“But—”
“You deserve a honeymoon right now, not in a few months. I realize that. This bank acquisition couldn’t have come at a worse time. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“You’re not disappointing me,” I exclaimed truthfully.
Soon after he’d asked me to marry him, Evan had explained to me that one of the companies in his fund—a major bank—was going to acquire another major bank. I didn’t really understand all the details, except to say that it was the type of business transaction that would take months, if not years, and ruin a lot of people’s vacation plans. Evan had suggested that we move to Tahoe right after we were married, where we both could work, and yet we’d still have time together in a beautiful, secluded place. He proposed a European tour for our honeymoon a few months down the line, when his work schedule had cleared.
How could I be disappointed with those plans?
“You’ll love it in Tahoe, Anna. Trust me. Please?”
He’d seen the doubt on my face. “Of course I will.”
He dropped one last chaste kiss on my mouth before he walked away.
We drove from Tiburon to Tahoe. When I asked Evan why he wanted to go by car versus plane—I knew he often used a private plane service—his answer surprised me.
&
nbsp; “I realize you’re leaving your entire world behind, marrying me and moving to a place you’ve never seen,” he said, his eyes trained on the road in front of us. “The drive will prove to you that we’re not going to be living that far from the familiar. You can hire a driver and escape back to San Francisco in a matter of hours, if you should want to.”
“Don’t say that,” I admonished. He glanced over at me swiftly. “I’m not going to want to escape anything. I’m going to love it as much as I love you.”
He gave that small, distracted smile, and turned his attention back to the road.
We talked a good deal on the first few hours of the trip. It seemed to me, however, that Evan grew more and more withdrawn as we began our steep climb into the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
In the silence, I had the opportunity to reflect on my nervousness about going to Tahoe instead of staying at Evan’s home in Tiburon. Or maybe the quiet and the unknown road unwinding in front of me caused that charged issue to push up to the surface of my awareness like a splinter being rejected by the body. Evan had told me that he bought his home in Tiburon six years ago, after his wife had died.
But he’d lived at Tahoe with her.