Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Lian
“Okay?” I ask Foster, his grip on my arm near bruising as we step onto a smaller ship at the port we docked at this morning. “We can turn back around. We don’t have to—”
“We’re doing this,” Foster says, determination in his voice. “You wanted to see the glaciers. We’re seeing the glaciers.”
“I can see them from the cruise ship,” I defend, but he only shakes his head.
“This is our best chance of spotting whales, too. We’re not turning back around.”
My heart thumps heavily at Foster’s use of our, when I know he’s doing this for me. The boat we’re boarding is still multi-level but nowhere near the size of the cruise ship waiting nearby. We’ll be viewing the glaciers up close in a spot where the humpbacks are known to travel.
Foster is right. This excursion is our best chance to see both.
But the man looks ready to keel over.
I wrap my arm around his lower back and lead him toward the covered portion of the ship that’s most inward. We find an open bench, and Foster nearly crumples onto the seat.
“Okay?” I check.
He nods, even as his eyes pinch shut. “This rocks a lot more, doesn’t it?”
“Are you feeling sick?”
“No,” he says quickly. “It just, uh, reminds me of where we are.”
“Just think of it like a really big pool,” I say, not having any clue if that will actually help.
“A really big pool,” Foster repeats like a mantra. “Where we’re floating. You in your swim trunks.”
I suck in air so hard I end up in a coughing fit. “Does imagining that help?” I squeak.
Foster only grips my hand tighter.
Okay, that’s fine. It’s fine. It’s…hoo boy.
Am I hyperventilating?
The boat kicks into motion, and I focus on making sure Foster is faring all right.
I trace my thumb up and down the inside of his palm as I describe the scenery.
The walls of ice getting closer, grayish-white emerging from the blue of the ocean.
I tell him about the sun glittering off the water, making everything sparkle.
When I describe the area we’re stopping in, surrounded on all sides by towering glaciers, Foster finally opens his eyes.
“Look,” I say, voice quiet, even though most everybody is out on the deck now, taking pictures or simply watching. “It’s beautiful.”
Foster doesn’t say anything at first. I bring my eyes back to his, my breath hitching when I find him staring at me. He rolls my hand over, both of his closing over mine, his skin warm even though the temperatures here are freezing.
“Let’s go out on the deck,” he proposes.
“Foster…”
“You’ve got me,” he says, emphasizing his point by squeezing my hand in his. “Isn’t that right?”
I blow out a slow breath, nodding once. With an almost-smile, Foster stands, and I follow suit. We join the others on the main deck of the boat, the wind frigid as it whips around us. The jackets we’re wearing are bulky, suited to the cold, but even still, I hunker close to Foster.
I’m shocked when he walks all the way up to the railing, his steps balanced to counteract the sway of the boat. He tugs me in front of him, his body lining my back and his arms around me, one hand on the railing, the other still holding mine tight.
My pulse is beating so erratically it drowns out the whoosh of the wind.
“Using me as a shield?” I tease.
He huffs a laugh I can feel against my back. “Mhm.”
I squeeze his hand harder, glad he can’t see my wide smile. We take in the beauty of the glaciers for long minutes, icy fortresses of white, before someone exclaims, “Whales.”
The group of us redirect our gazes as one, people craning their necks to see.
Foster and I are standing nearest to the back end of the boat, so we have a perfect view as something solid and dark gray breaches the surface of the water.
People gasp, myself included, as a humpback whale makes its presence known.
It disappears almost as quickly as it appeared, but then there’s another. A small pod of whales travels past us, their fins and backs and tails lifting above the water as they swim in an effortless, mesmerizing glide.
“Wow,” I manage, my voice lost to the wind.
When one of the whales leaps almost fully out of the water, I can’t stop my happy laugh.
Others shout, people taking pictures and chattering excitedly.
I could grab my phone, try to get a picture, too.
But I don’t. I stay tucked against the railing, Foster at my back, knowing nothing I could capture in a picture would mean as much as this, right here.
The whales enrapture us for a good fifteen minutes before they start to fade from view. I look over my shoulder, finding Foster’s small smile and red-tipped nose.
“All right?” I ask.
He nods, a minute movement. “Transcendent, don’t you think?”
I can only nod back at him.
A voice pipes over the deck of the ship, letting us know we’ll be heading back in five minutes. Foster and I retake our seats inside, the man much calmer now than he was on our way out here.
The sun starts to dip toward the water as we travel back to the waiting cruise ship. I keep a tight hold on Foster’s hand as we disembark the boat, the solid ground beneath my feet feeling odd for a moment. I don’t suggest prolonging our visit in town, sensing this excursion took a lot out of him.
We decide on bringing food from a buffet back to our cabin to eat.
For reasons I don’t want to examine too closely, I skip the seafood options tonight, instead choosing dishes without the little shrimp marking them a danger to Foster.
He either doesn’t notice or decides not to comment, the two of us settling at the small table near our window.
Sunset is in full swing now, the sky a gorgeous blend of colors that play off the glaciers nearby. Even far away, they’re a sight to behold, the floes in the water leading to them like stepping stones.
“Thanks for coming with me,” I tell Foster once we’re done stuffing our faces. “You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you were there.”
“Yeah,” he says a little hoarsely. “I’m glad I was, too.”
I fiddle with my napkin, trying to decide how best to bring up the way Foster held me at the railing, when my phone pings. I shoot him an apologetic smile and look at the screen, only to gasp when I see the selfie accompanying a text from Bailey’s number. The face onscreen is one I recognize.
I call Bailey immediately, trying to temper the volume of my voice when he picks up, my friend not having a chance to say anything before I all but scream, “Granny butt guy is Remington McRae?”
Foster’s eyebrows bounce up.
Bailey says, “Um. Yes?”
“Bailey,” I screech. “Explain why a professional hockey goalie needs you to guard his behind from the elderly.”
I can hear something on the other side of the call, including what I assume is Remington himself chuckling, before Bailey says, “It’s a long story.”
“That you’re going to tell me at the first available opportunity.”
“Yes,” he agrees, sounding resigned.
I hold my phone away from my mouth to explain to Foster, “I convinced Bailey to use the Heart2Heart to find some company while I was gone. You know, so he’d have a reason to leave the apartment for once. Apparently the ad he answered was from the Remington McRae.”
“Do you have to make me sound like a recluse?” Bailey complains.
“Let me talk to him,” I demand.
“Lian.”
“Bailey.”
With a sigh, Bailey presumably hands the phone to Remington because a new voice says, “Hello?”
“You’re so good at the splits!” I say in greeting.
Remington chuckles again, my friend groaning in the background.
I keep my conversation with the Seattle hockey player brief, not wanting to be rude with Foster sitting nearby, a gentle smile on his face as he listens to my side of the phone call.
But I do make sure to slip in a few tips for Remington to win over my friend, should he be so inclined.
Once Bailey is back in possession of his phone, I whisper a fervent, “I love him.”
He sighs again. “Tell me what’s going on with you. How are things with, uh, Foster?”
I glance at the man, bringing my phone away from my face to ask, “Would you mind if I stepped outside for just a minute?”
Foster shakes his head. “No, go ahead.”
Shooting him a smile, I stand, trip over the leg of my chair, catch myself on the table, and continue on. Once outside in the hall, I hiss, “I want to suck his face.”
Bailey is quiet for a moment.
“I want to suck it so bad, Bailey. Do you think he’d be weirded out if I asked?”
“If you word it like that, probably,” my friend says flatly.
I groan. “I really like him. He’s sweet and handsome and such a gentleman and handsome. And I think he might be into me. I should just ask, right? Like, you have to shoot for your dreams or you’ll never scale the mountain or whatever. So I should just ask to climb him. Right?”
Bailey makes a quiet, possibly confused sound.
“You’re right. I’m going to go for it. It’s not like he’s the cruise killer or anything.”
Bailey’s voice is hesitant when he says, “Right… Um, just be careful?”
“Always,” I promise him. “Love you. Go suck on Remington McRae.”
As my friend sputters, I end the call, renewed determination filling my chest as I stride back inside the cabin I’m sharing with Foster.
He gives me a smile from the end of the bed as I close the door behind me. “Granny butts?”
“I know, right? Such a weird ad. Hey, uh… I wanted to ask you something.”
Foster’s eyebrow hitches up.
I try to play it cool, but in my attempt to swagger Foster’s way, my toe catches on the rug, and I go sprawling. Foster catches me in his lap, the man looking down at me with wide eyes as I stare right back at him.
I mean, it doesn’t get more opportune than this, right? I lick my lips. Clear my throat. “Do you…by chance…like men?”
Foster swallows roughly. “I do.”
I take a steadying breath, even as my insides flip. “Do you, maybe, like me?”
Foster’s hand spasms on my side, the man’s chest rising and then falling before he says, “I do.”
It takes me a second to realize his answer was yes. Holy shitake, he said yes! I didn’t completely misread the situation after all.
I start to stammer in my relief, my cheeks hot.
“That’s really great. So great. I, um, like you, too?
But I didn’t want to assume you felt the same.
And there’s really no pressure here, but if you wanted, maybe we could press our mouths together?
Like, kiss. Just a normal kiss. I don’t know why I said it like that.
I don’t mean CPR or something. Nothing against breath play, but—”
Foster’s hand brushing against my cheek has my mouth shutting real fast. There’s a softness in his gaze. Amusement, yes. But also something I desperately want to believe is fondness. He leans down, I inhale a surprised breath, and then his lips are pressing to mine.
It’s a chaste kiss. Soft and unhurried. Quiet in the way it causes the rest of the world to blank.
It’s so small. And so very, very big.
Foster leans back, his blue eyes finding mine, electric bright and searching. I nod fervently, and a smile tips his lips before he draws me against him once more.
I twist, my momentum pressing Foster back against the bedding as I crawl over top of him, his legs still dangling off the end and my knees to either side of his hips.
His hands are in my hair while mine grip the sheets for all I’m worth, and our mouths…
Our mouths are drawn to one another again and again like the waves breaking gently over the side of the ship.
We kiss as the last of the evening color bleeds from the sky, the water and air and ice as one. Despite all the grandeur I witnessed today, not a single moment of it could compete with this.
A simple, endless kiss. And what feels like a million butterflies set free within the confines of my chest.