Chapter 16
KARINA
Marco is taking me to Half Moon Bay so we can be alone and celebrate my twentieth birthday.
I’ve never been so relieved to get out of town.
When he told me to pack a bag this morning, I was surprised—and a little worried.
Even though he tries to hide it, I can tell that Marco isn’t bouncing back from his car wreck quite as fast as he’d hoped.
An impromptu trip seemed like it might be the last thing he needs.
But my fears instantly melted away when he explained that we were going away to get a little R and R, just the two of us.
I couldn’t argue with that. Some time away might heal both of us.
Lots of naps, no schedule, zero pressure. Who knows, maybe even a spa day.
I just wish I could get the images of his accident out of my head.
“So? Which is it going to be?” Marco asks.
“Which one is the most expensive?” I tease.
“The McLaren,” he says, leading me over to it without batting an eye. It’s a flashy thing, all swoops and candy colored orange paint. “What do you think? You sure you can handle all that horsepower?”
“I can handle you, can’t I?” I laugh. “But maybe not this one. I think I want something…prettier.”
We’re in the garage where he keeps all his cars, because, yes—for the first time ever, I am going to be driving one of his precious babies.
That was my one condition for going on this trip.
Not because I crave the feel of the open road the way that my husband does, but because I want him to be as comfortable as possible on the two-hour journey. Plus, it’ll be fun. Freeing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of metallic blue peeking out from under a car cover. Bingo.
“What’s this one?” I ask, heading over to it.
With a grin, Marco pulls the cover off, leaving me gasping. “Pretty enough for you?”
“Oh my God, Marco. A classic Mustang convertible? She’s gorgeous! Is it a ’65?”
“Close. Sixty-six,” he says, sounding impressed at my knowledge. “That’s the original paint, too. Tahoe turquoise.”
I run my hand lovingly along the driver’s side door. “This one. I want to take this one.”
“It’s a manual,” Marco adds. “That okay?”
“You think I can’t drive a stick?” I smirk. “Well, lucky for you, my cousin taught me when I was sixteen. I might be a little rusty, but don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
After I rib my husband for never taking his prettiest car out for a spin, I hold my hand out for the keys and get the mirrors and the driver’s seat adjusted while he puts the top down for me. Soon enough, we’re on the 80 West, and I’m relishing the feel of the wind tossing my ponytail.
Our uber-exclusive resort hotel turns out to be a picturesque, Spanish-style villa, and when we check in, I find out that Marco made the booking under a fake name so that we’d have maximum privacy—and an extra layer of security.
As if that wasn’t thoughtful enough, a quick tour of the place reveals a stunning library overlooking the bay with lots of plush wingback chairs and a fireplace surrounded by colorful, hand-painted Mexican tile.
“I love this,” I say, sinking into one of the chairs and propping my feet on an ottoman.
“Come on, you haven’t even seen our room yet,” Marco says, holding his hand out to me. “If you want, we can come back here later and have a drink by the fire.”
“I might be up for that.”
By the time we get to the room, the bell staff has already brought up our bags.
The décor is all cream and oatmeal and soft-washed linen, from the bedding to the curtains to the sofa.
There are eucalyptus branches hanging in the shower, and the soothing smell permeates the room, making me feel like I’m already at the spa.
“This is a dream,” I tell Marco, walking over to where he stands at the picture window and tucking myself against his good arm.
“It’s about to get a whole lot dreamier. Remember how I told you to pack some shorts?”
“Yeah…”
He grins. “Change into those now. It’s time for your top-secret birthday surprise.”
I have just enough time to change and grab us an iced coffee to share from the café in the lobby before Marco whisks me back to the car so we can get on the road again—only this time, he’s the one driving.
Before long, we’re deep in the redwood forest. Flat roads turn into steep inclines, surrounded by giant trees intersected by rays of the late morning sun.
Everywhere I look is lush and green and dotted with wildflowers.
I feel as if we’ve entered a place where fairies live.
A log cabin style building appears around a corner and we pull into the parking lot, where I see a sign with HALF MOON ZIP-LINE TOURS painted on it in bold blue letters.
I turn wide eyes on him. “Zip-lining? Are you serious?”
He grins like a wicked little boy. “You said you wanted to fly, remember?”
My heart pounds. “I mean, I did say that, yes, but I didn’t mean literally—”
“I know you’re not scared of heights,” he says, pulling me against him. “Not when you told me you spent your childhood climbing that monster of an oak tree in your backyard.”
“This isn’t the same thing!” I protest. “That tree was stationary! This is…it’s…”
“Hurtling through the trees, hundreds of feet above the ground, with no way to stop?” he suggests.
“Yes!”
He grins. “That’s the whole point—it really is like flying. It’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to the rush I get when I race.”
That gives me pause. I’ve always been a little jealous when he talks about how racing feels for him. The adrenaline, the speed, the magic of it. “Really?”
“Really. Although, you won’t go faster than forty miles an hour. Fifty, tops. Which is nothing. But it’ll feel faster, trust me.”
I screw up my face, frowning as I mull it over, but then I realize I’m already imagining getting clipped onto the cable, soaring through the forest, flying free as a bird.
“I guess I’ve been on faster rollercoasters before…” I admit.
Marco says, “There’s no pressure, yeah? Just say the word and we’ll go back to the hotel and set you up for a nice, relaxing spa day. Your birthday, your call.”
Looking up, my breath catches at the view of the majestic trees.
So tall, stretching into the sky, solid and confident as the world goes on below them.
I’ve seen redwoods before, but not in a forest this size, and never ones that reached these incredible heights.
It’s almost like I can feel their strength as they hold up the steel cables high above, welcoming us mere mortals to experience the thrill. A rush of adrenaline hits me.
“Wait—what about your injuries?” I ask. “You can’t zip-line in a sling.”
He looks abashed. “Well, so that’s the other thing. I can’t go with you this time.”
“You cheater! That’s not fair.”
“I know. But if you love it, and I think you will, then we’ll come back when I’m all healed up and do it again. We wouldn’t have been able to go side-by-side, anyway—it’s a single harness. The best I can do today is wait at the end of the course and cheer you on.”
“Gosh, I don’t know…”
Marco kisses me, his hands sliding down over my ass, and then whispers in my ear, “You’ll never feel anything else like this, baby. You don’t want to miss it. Trust me, I know a little bit about adrenaline.”
Just then, as if on cue, a zip-liner goes speeding over our heads, whooping with joy. Her high-pitched shrieks have me and Marco shielding our eyes to get a better look. Turns out the girl is about ten years old, and it’s obvious she’s having the time of her life.
“So, what’s the verdict? You ready to fly?” Marco asks.
I’m not entirely convinced, but I have to admit…some part of me is already getting excited. My stomach does a little flip, and a shiver runs down my spine, and suddenly I realize exactly what the term YOLO is all about.
A grin tugs at my lips. “You know…I think it’s time to carpe diem this bitch.”
“That’s the woman I married! Hell yeah!”
We head inside, Marco’s giddiness infecting me as I sign the forms, and then we’re taken out onto a large deck where two guides give me the rundown on safety.
A set of stairs a few yards away leads to a catwalk connected to another platform and yet another set of stairs.
The next catwalk leads to an even taller platform, and that’s where the zip-line launch point is.
I can’t see it well through the treetops, but seeing all those stairs makes my palms sweaty.
“You can do this,” Marco whispers, squeezing my hand.
Meeting his eyes, I realize that I can. I can do anything with him by my side.
There’s a group of people in front of us—a few couples, a family with two kids, and some college-age girls. Two of them press tightly together, obviously nervous even as they go on and on about how great it’s going to be. The excitement and anticipation is contagious.
“See you down there,” Marco says, giving me a good-luck kiss. “I love you.”
Nodding, I give him a peck on the cheek and begin my ascent. I watch one brave soul after another slide down the cable, their reactions ranging from yelps to laughter to screams. When it’s finally my turn at the launch point, the guide clips my harness to the line and asks if I’m ready.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I tell her.
She double-checks my gear, makes sure my helmet is secure, and then helps me place my thick-gloved hands on the drop line. Flashing a smile, I give her a nod.
This is it.
The next second, my feet leave the platform. My body weight drops into the harness, nothing below to support me as the cable dips and sways. A scream hitches in my throat—but then suddenly, I’m whizzing through the air, soaring like a hawk, and my scream turns into a shriek of pure glee instead.
I feel weightless, like I’m in free fall, but the harness hugs me tightly so I’m simultaneously secure yet unbound. The branches of the redwoods reach toward me, but I race right by, untouchable. My heart thrums with joy and adrenaline, my limbs tingling.
I’m flying. Really flying.
It’s amazing.
All too soon, I realize I’m racing toward the platform at the end point where Marco is waiting, but I don’t want to slow down.
This feeling is incredible. Gripping the line the way the guide showed me during the safety briefing, I slow myself as I descend, dropping my feet onto the platform as a guide grabs my line and pulls me in.
I’m still laughing as Marco wraps his arms around me.
“You did it!” he shouts. “Look at you!”
Both of us are laughing now, and when he asks if I want to try another run, I immediately say yes.
My next round, I launch from an even higher platform, and then another, each course taking me deeper into the redwoods.
Each time, Marco is waiting for me at the end, just as excited as if he was zip-lining with me.
I soak in the world around me, feeling more at one with nature than I ever have in my life.
Birds alight from branches, beams of sunlight warm my arms, butterflies flit past. Squirrels run down thick tree trunks and I think I even see a mama deer and her baby far below.
I don’t want this to end. Before long, I’m flinging my arms out to my sides and kicking my feet as I whiz along.
All too soon, I’m done. I’ve conquered every zip-line course the place offers. With a huge smile on my face, I fling myself into Marco’s arms and bury my face in his neck.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “This was so incredible.”
“Happy birthday, baby. How’re those endorphins treating you?”
“So good,” I admit. “It really was like flying, just like you said. No wonder you’re addicted to racing cars.”
I guess I never fully understood the hold the sport has over him.
How could I? I’ve never done anything—besides running off with Marco—that has given me this euphoric feeling before.
But now…I think I’ve finally had a taste of what he must feel on the track.
The rush, the adrenaline high, the freedom, the power.
I understand my husband in a whole new way now.
Taking my hand, he leads me to the shuttle that will bring us back to the zip-line center.
Once we’re there, I get out of my harness and then we watch the wall screens that flip through a slideshow of digital photos taken by cameras mounted at various points on the zip-line course.
Marco laughs when my first photo pops up, which was taken on the first launch platform.
My eyes are clenched, my hands wrapped tight around my harness straps, and I look like I’m going to puke.
A few slides later, my face pops up again.
This time, it’s clear I’m having a blast.
Marco insists on having the photo printed onto a keychain, which I grudgingly allow. Then we stroll back to the parking lot arm in arm, enjoying the sights and sounds of the forest all around us. Despite all the excitement, I feel calmer than I have in a long time.
“So. You think you’ll want to come back?” he asks as we get in the car.
“ASAP,” I tell him. “But next time, you’re flying with me.”
“It’s a deal.”
He leans over and crushes his lips to mine. My hands thread into his hair and I climb into his lap, not caring who sees. We kiss in the convertible, sighing with happiness under the dappled shade of the redwoods, to the sound of singing birds. Nothing can mar the perfection of this day.
Until I remember that my uncle has been listening in all along.