“Let me have this. Let me enjoy making you happy with breakfast in our villa, snorkeling, sleeping in, and whatever the hell else you want to do. They have yoga classes here that you can take. We can snorkel and scuba dive and ride horses on the beach at sunset for fuck’s sake. We can do everything or nothing. Just let me enjoy spoiling you.”
He’s relentless in his kindness and how hard he works. I throw my hand dramatically over my face again as I lean back into the plush pillows.
“If you must buy me new shoes, then you must.”
He laughs and starts to rub my feet. I take a peek at him from under my arm, swallowing hard. Vacation Charlie is a different person: the set of his shoulders, the relaxed facial expression, his phone not glued to his hand.
“So, what do you want to do?” he asks, eagerly. It’s late afternoon in New York, still so many hours of work to be done, but he doesn’t even look toward his laptop.
“I have no idea! I don’t think I even have a swimsuit. It was winter in NYC when we left. Can’t you just do your workout while I shower and think about it?”
He pats my foot, rising to his feet. “If that will make you happy, sure. I’ll call the front desk and ask them to at least make it snappy for the bathing suits.”
“You are so fucking bossy,” I say, shaking my head. I grab my bag, carrying it to the smaller of the rooms. Regardless of his kindness, I wouldn’t even consider taking the master.
“I think you like it,” he says with a smile, disappearing into the master with his suitcase.
I blush, thinking that I would indeed love to have him boss me around, particularly between the sheets. A flush spreads on my skin at the thought.
The room is small, space for the bed with a dresser and mirror. This room is not meant to be stayed in the long term. It’s a way station, a place to rest your head between sundown and sun up.
I step into the shower and let the water wash away the past two days of travel. I wonder if when I was in that accident, I actually landed in a coma and this is all just part of some weird dream my brain invented to cover for the crash. The smell of the coconut soap is soothing as I take my time under the rainwater shower.
I close my eyes, letting the water hammer against my skin and letting my mind drift to the accident. I haven’t told Charlie that I’ve started to remember that night. Mostly what has come back are fragments of the actual accident, but nothing more. I remember the rain on my skin, unable to see where I was going. I try to capture feelings, why I was out there, but nothing holds. An overwhelming panic as headlights blind me. I can’t tell Charlie how I remember him hovering over me, trying to shield my broken body with his as water loosens his perfectly styled hair so it hangs in his face.
I don’t want to think about what it could mean, remembering. I almost prefer not knowing what happened, not remembering the trauma. I’m afraid to find someone that didn’t think I was worth looking for. I’m afraid to find out that I didn’t like my life very much before and be stuck right back in it. Worse, I’m afraid to find that I was happy and it means losing Charlie.
When I emerge, Charlie is on the rowing machine. I can see his earbuds in, so I don’t bother him, choosing to watch him instead. The small dining table has been loaded with various fruits, pastries, eggs, and crepes. I know I don’t have allergies, so I’m comfortable picking at unknown foods and drinks. I grab a fruit smoothie and take a long sip from the straw, the mango refreshing on my tongue.
I watch Charlie, the explosive movement as his strong legs push the seat back. He leans back, flexing his abs before pulling the bar back with his powerful arms. He makes it look effortless, but I can hear how his breathing is controlled so he gets the maximum out of the exercise. More than once he has tried to show me how to do it, but the way I was hurt - my knee, my ankle, and my shoulder - means that it’s still too painful to try.
It’s calming listening to him sucking in air as he drives with his legs before a sharp exhalation as the seat slides forward again. I’m mesmerized watching his body move so in sync. Legs, core, arms, legs, core, arms. It’s motions that he’s comfortable with, familiar with. He did them through college on the crew team, and after graduating, he stuck with the machine.
When he finishes, he turns to face me, his t-shirt soaked in sweat. It doesn’t stop him from using one of the dry spots to wipe his forehead, giving me an eyeful of the abs he has worked so hard on. It would be rude to not appreciate them, and I do, taking peeks at them before meeting his eye. The smirk he’s suppressing tells me that I’ve been made.
“Oh good, you’re out.” He gestures at some bags sitting beside the door. “That’s what they could round up on short notice in terms of bathing suits. Pick one out and we can finally relax.” He checks his phone quickly, his brow furrowing.
I grab the bags and slip into my room, to see what the options are, leaving him to scroll through whatever email or text he just got. Somehow with all the flying we’re only five hours behind New York, which means Charlie is seeing what his team hasn’t done.
The bags contain endless treasures. There are a few decent bikinis and one pieces tucked against coverups and lounge shorts. I slide on a simple purple bikini that straps on like a bra and high rise bottoms. When I emerge after trying them on, I’m disappointed to see that Charlie is still in his workout gear on his phone.
In taking care of me after the accident, he was accused of being too lax with his work. Initially, they were understanding, his guilt over the accident won him sympathy. Like all bosses, they wanted to ensure that he was still focused on work and when he landed a huge deal, they backed off. This trip comes with strings, and while he isn’t working his usual eighteen-to-twenty-hour days, he still has to be plugged in.
Charlie glances up, registering my movement. I watch as his eyes rove over me in a way they haven’t before. This is the most I’ve been exposed to him ever, and he’s capitalizing on his chance to drink me in. He studies the swell of my breasts and the curve of my hips, cataloging the various scars I have from the accident. There aren’t many, but he studies the few, namely along my knee where they had to do surgery to repair the ligament. I wouldn’t say our dealings were platonic before this, but they certainly didn’t have the heat behind them the way his gaze does now.
“I’ll shower off and meet you by the pool.” His voice is husky as he drops his phone on the table. His hand reaches out, groping for a piece of fruit, not taking his eyes off me. I can feel a blush stain my cheeks, the heat in his gaze transferring to me.
“Sure, I’ve got my book.” I walk past him, grabbing my book from my carry-on bag. Clear skies and the sound of the ocean below me are instantly calming.
I think about wanting to text my best friend about what just happened. My thoughts stray to Vivian. She would love this place, and would balk at the idea that I’m here with the hot millionaire. The thought throws me. How much money does Charlie have that he’s renting out the cabanas around us too? I can’t go down that rabbit hole. The last I remembered was that Vivian was graduating law school. Then again, last I remembered, I was working as a receptionist for a law firm.
So much is different from five years ago. I want to change that, but I don't know where to begin. I have no contacts to start to reach out. I have no old friends I can text or email to ask for Vivian’s contact info.
I throw myself onto a lounge chair, trying to invest myself in the book. I’ve read the same few pages over and over again with nothing really sticking. My mind keeps moving back to Vivian. Maybe she would help ground me, tell me that this is, in fact, not all a dream where a gorgeous millionaire whisks me off to an island. The only thing missing from making my life a romance novel is mind-blowing sex.
When I get back to New York, I’m determined to find Vivian and figure out what exactly went wrong between us. She was there when my parents died, she was my first friend in college, my roommate, my sister. Whatever happened between us had to be rough. That thought gives me pause. Maybe reaching out would be a bad idea.
Charlie finally emerges, but he has his laptop in his hand, his swim trunks hanging low on his hips. He’s done me the dishonor of wearing a shirt, which blocks the view of his perfectly sculpted muscles. If he’s going to ignore me so he can work, then he could at least do it shirtless.