The stirrings of a relationship were there before we came here. It’s only blossomed without the confines of the city and the apartment.
He lets me go so I can get dressed and he can take one last look at his emails.
“How long have you been up?” I ask, finally putting on clothes.
“Since about four. I wanted to get work done before I was completely incommunicado for the rest of today. Jack cried like a baby when I showed him the pictures of the dolphins yesterday morning,” Charlie calls as he walks into my bathroom and grabs my scar cream. It’s become a ritual every morning and night. He squirts a little onto his hand before coming up behind me and rubbing it on the exposed scar on my knee. His fingers work in circles around the raised tissue, digging deep.
I realize then, as he focuses on rubbing his fingers into my tender skin, that I’ve been falling in love with Charlie this entire time. Each time he caught me before I fell during PT, ignored a work call to take a call from a doctor, every offer of support made me feel cherished in a way I hadn’t since before my parents died.
I was falling in love but was afraid to say it. Would he think I was only in love with him because he was rich? Would he think I was using him for this lavish lifestyle?
I turn to him, and kiss him, gently resting my hands on his chest. I pull back, tracing my fingers along the giant white D on his green shirt for his alma mater. My hand slides into his as I give him a broad smile.
“Let’s go have an adventure.”
Chapter 9
Iamholdingontight to my hat as the speed boat whisks us out to sea. Charlie and I tried to start a conversation, but the motor drowned out our voices. We both stopped screaming, content to be nestled side by side. His arm is wrapped around my shoulder, the other resting on my knee as we both pretend we can hear the captain when he points out various things on the coast. I can’t wait for us to stop so I can take pictures of the white sand beach against the dramatic green mountains behind it.
I’m already taking mental snapshots, imagining blowing them up and hanging them in my apartment whenever I return there. The boat finally stops and the captain points at the small little dock at the back of the boat with a ladder leading right into the water.
Once the camera is in my hand, I can’t stop taking photos. I take pictures of the island and of Charlie as he gets himself ready to go. I sneak a snap of him checking his phone and again when he glances to take in the view himself. His blond hair isn’t slicked back like usual; it flies free in the wind. His sunglasses block what I expect is a pensive look on his face. I managed to get one shot of him pulling his shirt off from behind, and that photo is all for me.
I set the waterproof camera on the deck before tossing aside my cover-up. Charlie’s head snaps to me, his eyes raking over my skin as if he hadn’t seen me naked just an hour ago. I’m in a red swimsuit with one shoulder bare. It feels dangerous to wear, as if my boob is going to sense the freedom and spring from my top without warning. But I liked how it looked and how it made me feel. There is a cutout over my cleavage, but I otherwise feel supported, despite the gaping hole, which surprised me .
The snorkels and masks are set on the lower deck atop towels for our inevitable return. Charlie goes down first and helps me onto the landing before pulling his snorkel on. I snap a goofy photo of him wearing it, giving a thumbs up before he enters the water first, ready to help me down.
The water is warm as I slide into it. Charlie has his hands and feet braced on either side of the ladder so I sit on his lap before he pushes us away, his arms folded around me. The captain follows us into the water, ready to point out the different animals we see as we swim around the area.
I take photos of the brilliant fish and stingrays as they swim by. I keep trying to sneak a few of Charlie, but I’m stunned when I watch a sea turtle swim by. I’m so transfixed by it, barely remembering to snap a picture as it glides away. The captain leads us over to a place where we can stand and he can tell us more about the ecosystems and the wildlife in the area.
I giggle as the captain guides my hand over a stingray, my fingers slipping over the slimy skin. Charlie’s hands rest on my hips as the captain takes a few photos of us so when we look back, I’m not behind the camera the entire time. He walks us onto the beach, where there is a cabana set up with a table and chairs. I glance at Charlie, who gives a shrug of his shoulders as if trying to say this was not him. The smirk tugging at his lips tells a different story.
Every moment of the day was carefully orchestrated by him to get us to this moment. I settle into the surprisingly plush chairs, Charlie taking the time to push my seat in, with a gentle kiss on my cheek. Out of the forest come two musicians, one playing a small guitar-like instrument and the other a woodwind of some sort.
“You’re something else, sir,” I say as he sits across from me. I drop my elbows onto the table and rest my chin on the back of my hands.
“I thought this would be nice. It’s less about you and more about me wanting to have these experiences for myself. Like going to Thailand was really cool, but we didn’t do any of the cultural stuff. I would have loved to visit some of the temples and learn more than the best bars they have,” he says.
“Or the best strippers?” I joke.
“Or the best strippers,” he confirms, a blush tinging his cheeks. “I thought Bora Bora was nice because it’s more of just a resort destination. I want to learn the important details of the area.”
I nod, dragging my finger along the condensation on my glass.
“Like, when we were little, it felt like my dad would bring us on these business trips just to shut up my mom, who would complain that she never got to go anywhere. We went to Sydney for two weeks during the Olympics. I left the hotel once for a swimming match, but as soon as we got there, my little brother threw up all over my dad’s business associate. I was in Sydney, at the Olympics! But no, I didn’t even get to Bondi Beach or the Opera House. Thinking back on that has made me want to make sure I’m getting the full experience when I travel. Ergo,” he gestures at the table in front of us. A server comes over with plates of chicken and rice and we dig in.
“I don’t remember you mentioning a brother,” I say, watching him closely. That snippet of information makes me realize just how little I know about Charlie.
“No, I wouldn’t have. We’re not close. I was about 10 when that incident happened and he was five, probably my parents' last ditch effort to save their marriage. It was already on thin ice at that point. My mom was wife number two, and my father never let her forget that he had an iron clad prenup. If she left him, she got nothing, and that included her sons. Not that he wanted us. When we got back to the hotel from the swim meet, my dad was rough with Brad. He yelled and shook him, scolding him for embarrassing the family in front of a client. That was the last straw for my mom and she left, taking my brother with her.” He takes a sip from his drink, the ever-classy piña colada, his eyes sad. “My dad fought for me in court because I was old enough to take care of myself. From there, I went off to boarding school, then college and then working at his company. I don’t think he’s seen a picture of my brother since he was five.”
I reach out and take his hand, sad that he has this fractured relationship and that his father has done so much damage. There aren’t any right words for this moment, for the way he is baring his soul to me.
A part of me regrets that I don’t have more recent memories to share with him of travel or of more. I want to get those memories back. I want to be able to talk to him about more than just childhood trauma or the death of my parents as a defining moment in my adult life. I want to be able to commiserate over bad breakups and have something to add to a list of great places to hang out that aren’t closed or the Chinese food place across from my old apartment.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to drag the mood down,” he apologizes, letting the last wisps of the bad memory slip away. “I would get some holidays with my mom and brother, but we were raised so differently, and I wonder if he thinks that I picked dad.”
“You were a kid. You shouldn’t feel guilty for anything that happened then,” I say.