He reaches out and tilts my chin toward him. I can feel the heat building again between my legs as I meet his eye.
“Any time you want,” he says, pressing his lips against mine. I refuse to be swept up this time, so I pull away and earn a wry grin from him. I float into my bedroom and sift through my bag to see if I have anything reasonable to wear. Spoiler alert: I don’t. So I dig through the bags sent over by the front desk to see if there is a cover-up I can reasonably pass off as a dress. I manage to find a wrap one, keeping my bathing suit on underneath in case an errant wind blows the skirt up.
I want to stay in this villa and explore my relationship more with Charlie, shamelessly explore his body more. But we have the next two weeks to do that and everything in between. We could afford to take it slow with each other.
After weeks of walks in the city, Charlie has become conditioned to stick to my left side, ready to catch me if my leg gives out. We visit a nearby shop with some bitchy saleswoman where Charlie flashes his black card and buys the cheapest thing he can, a simple emerald-cut aquamarine, my birthstone. He spends just enough to show what type of sale this woman lost out on: aPretty Womanmoment for sure.
I can’t stop toying with the jewel as we walk, and I let Charlie take a drastic lead. “I am still injured, you know,” I call after him.
He’s so excited to explore that, for the first time, he’s not cognizant of how far behind I’ve fallen. He’s not on New York time, relentlessly speed-walking from point A to point B. He’s on vacation and needs to slow down and remember that I have little legs. Charlie knows where he’s going now and is on a mission to get us there quickly. At my protest, though, he slows, offering his arm to me. I let him lead the way as we go, eventually stopping at a Mexican restaurant.
“I made reservations,” he says, holding the door open for me, letting me enter first.
“When?” I ask incredulously as Charles approaches the hostess desk.
“Okay, so maybe the front desk made the reservations for me,” he admits, grabbing a mint and popping it into his mouth. His eyebrows rise dramatically in a waggle and he gives me a self-satisfied grin. The hostess leads us to our table, winding us around empty chairs to a secluded corner. The building has an open-air courtyard with tables all around it.
There is a live mariachi band playing next to a fountain in the courtyard. It’s a late lunch so the restaurant is mostly empty. We order drinks, a mojito for Charlie and a margarita for me, and an app, chips and guacamole, to start. He looks so relaxed, sipping his drink, with the top two buttons of his shirt undone. I wish everyday Charlie was like this.
“I studied abroad in college in Scotland. I’ve been to Europe, but this is something entirely different,” I say, looking around. “This is just so surreal.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve been to Europe a few times and went to Thailand for a friend's bachelor party, but nothing quite like this. It feels like paradise.”
“You’re stupid rich, let’s just move here forever,” I say jokingly, taking a sip from my drink.
“I would love to, but my father, well, he wouldn’t love that idea.”
“You’re the heir apparent, right?” I ask.
He seldom talks about his father and for good reason. I can hear the edge to his voice whenever they’re on the phone together.
“Ah, yes. He’s fast-tracked my advancement through the company. It helps that I haven’t really had a personal life recently, present company excluded.” We never venture into the conversations of past flames. He has a bunch of extra toothpaste and travel-sized women's deodorant packed away in the bathroom, which makes me think that he wasn’t exactly celibate, but it’s weird to think about.
“Were you serious with anyone before the accident?” I try to muster up as much nonchalance as I can before shoving a giant chip in my mouth. The hard edges poke around my mouth and I know I look more foolish for doing it. Maybe that will shut me up and keep me out of his business. Then again, what happened in the pool makes it my business. The waitress drops off our orders, whisking away our empty glasses. Charlie waits until she steps away before answering me.
“I did, once. But I wouldn’t have been kissing you if there was someone else. That said, you’ve seen how I work; I didn’t have enough hours in the day to keep her happy.” He sounds regretful about how things ended.
I don’t know what he thinks this says about me. He wants to explore a relationship with me, he has said as much, but what does that look like for us? What kind of relationship? Does he think that I’ll be more okay with how hard he works because I’m going into it with both eyes open? It’s hard to put myself in the headspace to know if that would be the case. Until I’m on my feet, able to have an identity outside of being Charlie’s broken pet project, I’m positive I would go crazy relying only on him for company. But the angel on my shoulder, the one that sees everything Charlie has done for a stranger, insists that he’s worth that and so much more.
“Can you tell me more about her?” I ask, unable to filter the question.
He laughs, but it’s hard and joyless. “Is that really what you want to talk about right now, while we’re in paradise talking about quitting jobs and living here forever?”
I take a bite of a taco.
“Yes,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand.
His brown eyes harden as he sighs. “Fine. We were engaged. When I wasn’t around to listen to bands or visit venues, she decided this wasn’t the life she wanted. We went our separate ways. That was a year ago.” The finality in his voice shut off any further questions about his ex.
“If I had relationships to remember, I would tell you about them,” I say honestly.
The last guy I remember dating steadily was during college and we broke up just before graduation because he was headed across the country. I wasn’t interested enough in him to try long distance, and I tell Charlie as much.
“I’m aware that I’m at an advantage since I can actually remember the past five years,” he says with a sigh. “Can we go back to talking about happy things and not dwelling on the past? I’m really not in the mood for this sad walk down memory lane.” He takes a sip of his new drink and gestures to the waitress for more.
“Fine, we can talk about how rude it is that you want me to go clothes shopping after stuffing me with tacos and margs?” I complain, eating another taco.
“You know you’re perfect. The doctor even congratulated you for putting on weight and finally being more than skin and bones.”