Ava #2
“Oh, nothing. Bob and I have it covered. Go on outside and enjoy the day. Eric, Dad has the Jet Skis ready if you want to take Ava for a ride before we eat.”
“Our part of the Hudson is the clean part,” Eric says, smiling. “Want to take a spin?”
“Sure, that sounds like fun.”
“Show her where she can change in the pool house, Eric,” Mrs. Tilden says before she goes back to chopping cucumbers.
I find it interesting that other than hello, the governor doesn’t say anything to us.
“Is your dad always so quiet?” I ask Eric when we’re outside on the huge deck that overlooks the Hudson. The artfully arranged seating areas remind me of a Frontgate catalog, right down to the outdoor carpeting, pillows and copper fire pit.
“He can hardly get a word in edgewise when my mom gets going.” He leads me around an in-ground pool to a smaller shingled building. “You can change in there and leave your stuff there, too.”
He’s wearing board shorts and a T-shirt, so he doesn’t need to change.
“I’ll be quick.”
“Take your time.”
I change into the bikini and cover-up I brought and slather on sunscreen so I won’t be bright red by the end of the day. I capture my hair into a ponytail and put a Yankees ball cap on over it.
I find Eric sitting with his feet in the pool while he waits for me.
“Ready.”
He turns to look up at me. “Oh no. No, no, no.”
“What?” I ask, alarmed.
“Yankees? No. Just no. We’re Mets people.”
“Um, your dad is the governor of all of New York, including the Yankees part.”
“No, he asked them not to vote for him.”
“Shut up,” I say, laughing. “He did not.”
He stands and faces me. “I knew there had to be something about you that wasn’t perfect.”
My face heats with embarrassment and the tingle of desire I’m becoming used to when he’s around.
He tugs on my hat, playfully scowls at me and then takes my hand to lead me to the dock where a gorgeous wooden sailboat is tied up. We go down a ramp to a floating dock where two Jet Skis are tied next to a rubber dinghy with an outboard engine.
Eric removes his shirt, giving me my first glimpse at a muscular chest with a fine coating of gold hair. He hands me a life jacket and gets on one of the Jet Skis.
I remove the cover-up and don the life jacket.
“You have to hold on tight so you don’t fall off,” he says with a grin.
“Are you in cahoots with your mother to get my hands all over you?”
“Hardly, but if the result is your hands all over me, I’m good with that.”
I laugh a lot when I’m with him, even when my heart is heavy and burdened by the things I need to tell him later.
Attempting to be somewhat graceful, I take the hand he offers, get on the Jet Ski and let him direct me on where to put my hands—under the lower edge of his life jacket on his abdomen, which ripples under my palms.
“You ready?” he asks over his shoulder.
“Yep.”
“Don’t let go.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Laughing, he fires up the Jet Ski, unties it from the dock and accelerates into the river.
The ride is thrilling. I lose all sense of time as we fly over the water, jumping waves from other boats and having a complete blast. It’s the most fun I’ve had in years, and it gets even better when Rob and Camille join us on the other Jet Ski and we race over the water next to each other.
Eric jumps a wave, and I scream as we catch air. We land with a huge splash of cold water.
“That,” he says, “was awesome.”
“Oh my God! I almost peed my pants!” I forget this is a new relationship when the words fly right through my filter.
He loses it laughing. “Glad you managed to hold it in.”
“Just barely.”
Rob sends a wall of water our way, and when we can see again, he and Camille are hysterically laughing.
“Bastards,” Eric shouts. “This is war.”
I’m not sure how I feel about being part of a Jet Ski war, but I’m not consulted before Eric takes off in hot pursuit of his brother.
We arrive back at the dock some time later, soaking wet and weak from laughing.
Eric ties up the Jet Ski and gets off, extending his hand to help me.
As I take his outstretched hand, I realize I haven’t thought of John in hours, and surely that must be a record.
It’s nice to have something else—and someone else—to think about.
Eric helps me out of the life jacket and takes a good long look at me in the bikini. Leaning in so he won’t be overheard by Rob and Camille, who’ve arrived right after us, he says, “So very, very lovely.” He leans over to retrieve the cover-up I left on the dock and hands it to me.
Undone by his compliment and the hungry way he looks at me, I fumble my way into the cover-up and go ahead of him up the ramp to the dock.
Once again, the sleek wooden sailboat catches my attention. “That’s a gorgeous boat.” It’s all white paint and gleaming varnish with cranberry sail covers and canvas.
“The Sarah Beth—my father’s pride and joy. That’s my mom’s name. He restored it himself when they were first married and takes immaculate care of it.”
“I used to sail with my grandfather when I was a kid.”
“So you know how?”
“I haven’t done it in years, but if it’s like riding a bike, then yes, I know how.”
“It’s something you never forget once you know how. I love to sail. Maybe we can go out later.”
“I’m not sure I trust you after the Jet Ski incident.”
Laughing, he puts an arm around me. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Was it or was it not an incident?”
“For me, it was just another day on the Hudson. For you…”
“An incident in which I nearly peed my pants in front of this cute new guy I’ve been seeing.”
He pulls me in closer to him and kisses my temple. “Is it later yet?”
I nudge him with my elbow. “If your mother is watching this, you’re filling her with hope.”
He releases me so suddenly that I nearly stumble. Only his arms around me stop me from falling.
“You did that on purpose!”
“You can’t prove that.”
Oh, I like him. I really, really do. I like the way I feel when I’m with him—hopeful and happy and optimistic. And then I remember what I have to tell him, and I ache at the thought of him saying it’s too much for him to take on. Who could blame him? It’s my life, and it’s too much for me.