7. Love is Blind
~ brIDGET ~
I felt really anxious getting into the car. But while we were still in the garage, Sam made me put on the blindfold and headphones—Bluetooth connected to my phone so if he needed to talk to me he could call.
I had no idea where we were going, or how. But an hour into the drive, my heart slowed. He’d set up my favorite playlist on Spotify, and downloaded several audiobooks.
“Just do whatever you want to do. If you need help with the phone, leave the blindfold on and tell me. I’ll work it for you.”
I had a few tears during that drive, but not because I was sad. I was so stinking touched by how thoughtful he was. I didn’t deserve it—and he didn’t deserve to have such a basket case for a wife. And yet… I literally wouldn’t have survived the previous year without him.
I was so grateful.
He called me after we’d been driving an hour and half—which meant we were probably at the airport.
“You ready, babe? We’re going to get out of the car, and I’m putting you in a wheelchair so you don’t have to walk, okay?”
I was half-excited. I definitely wanted out of the country. But getting there could be terrifying. Airports were the worst for Christmas Cheer because they wanted everyone to be happy.
It was a little awkward getting out of the car, and I felt really self-conscious. But one of the advantages to being blind and deaf was that I didn’t have to see other people judging me.
Sam left me listening to a book and took care of everything. I don’t know how he did it, but eventually he called me again.
“We’re at security. I’ve explained the situation and they’re willing to let you keep the chair and blindfold while we’re moving, but they have to go through the scanner. So you close your eyes and focus on my voice and we’ll get through this, okay?”
“Sam, I’ve traveled every Christmas. It sucks, but seeing the decorations and stuff is just the price I have to pay before I—”
“Babe, we’re doing our best to keep that stuff away. So hold onto me, and let’s get this done.”
He took off the blindfold and he was right in my face, his eyes intent and concerned. He’d already put our things on the conveyor belt. I had to get out of the wheelchair to go through the scanner, which was weird—suddenly realizing how many people were around me. But the scanner had no decorations inside and I kept my eyes down going in and coming out.
A few minutes later we were rolling through the airport again, and I was blissfully listening to Bad Thing by Steven Rodriguez, which Sam had once joked was my theme song. I still laughed every time I listened to it.
We had to switch to a connecting flight after a few hours and went through the entire process again. But it was easier the second time. I’d kind of sunk into myself, and it felt like Sam and I were the only people in the world.
The whole day passed in that strange, surreality. I was in the world, but separate from it—and Sam led me through. And for the first time I could ever remember, I felt safe to let him do it. To let someone else be my eyes and ears and make my decisions.
It was… unsettling. And beautiful.
By the time we landed at the other end I had swung wildly between excitement and self-loathing so many times, I was exhausted. And a tiny bit nervous because we hadn’t gone through customs which meant we were still in America.
Sam had reassured me that once we left the airport, our final trek was by water. No more people. No more radios. And no Christmas decorations. But where could we go in this country where there’d be no Christmas?
He put me back in the blindfold and headphones through the airport and into another car. I fell asleep against his shoulder, so I wasn’t sure how long the drive was, but when we stopped, he nudged me and lifted my headphones.
“Bridget. You can take the blindfold and headphones off. It’s safe from here. Promise.”
He slid the mask off my eyes and I opened them. It was so strange to be suddenly bathed in sunlight. My eyes screamed and I had to blink for a while, but eventually I was able to sit up and look outside the car. I grabbed Sam’s arm.
“Thank you,” I breathed.
We were at a small marina. Nothing fancy—one main jetty made from wood, but clean and new. Half a dozen boats were tied to the moorings. Sam stood just outside the door of the car.
“Keep your eyes on me and stay facing this way, okay? There’s nothing to be worried about out this way, and our Captain assures me there’s no decorations on his boat. We won’t have the radio on either.”
“Where are we?” I asked, genuinely curious. The air was warm and the sun bright, but a stiff breeze blew off the ocean. We were in a small bay so the waves were small and broke often.
“The Florida Keys,” Sam said with a small smile. “And we aren’t done yet.”
I got out of the car and tucked myself into his chest, hugging him as some other guy, presumably our driver, darted past with our bags, trotting towards a small, rectangle motor boat with a sunshade over it.
An hour later, I shook my head in disbelief as the boat rode a wave right up onto the pale sand of a tiny island.
Sam tipped the guy and helped him get our bags safely out and onto the sand while I sat in the boat, staring and wondering what the hell we were doing.
He beckoned me to the side of the boat, swept me up to his chest and carried me through the shallow waves to the beach.
I suddenly understood why he’d told me to pack light and bring bug-spray. A few minutes later we’d left the sand and were entirely surrounded by trees, vines, and undergrowth that were half-jungle, half forest. The trail we walked was narrow—I followed Sam who carried both bags. It took almost ten minutes from the beach until the trees opened to an area that looked like a driveway, which confused me, until I realized that the massive trees in front of us were a house. Or rather, a house had been built into and across two of them.
A winding staircase started at the bottom of that cement area and sloped up behind the trunks of the trees, to a treehouse well above our heads.
“Sam!” I gasped.
He turned and smiled at me, winking. “No Christmas decorations, I promise.” I gaped at him and he slowed in his walk. “This isn’t even the best part. Come on.”
I was like a kid, skipping up to meet him and grabbing his arm, dragging him forward until we were on that cement, and then running up what turned out not to be stairs, but ramps that led all the way into what was described as a cottage, Sam told me.
It was small, rustic, clean, and so quiet.
“Sam…” I breathed as I stepped inside and turned a full circle to take in every part of this adorable place.
Sam dropped our bags inside the door, and stood back to let me look around.
The walls were wood, but stained a light gray with slightly darker trim at the windows and doors. A queen bed lay right at the center of what was essentially a large box with a conical roof and a covered deck that ran along every side except where the ramp climbed to meet it at the back.
Large windows on either side of the room let natural light in, but kept it from being direct because the roof extended over the deck, and the tree canopy was intact overhead. We were shaded from every side.
The décor was simple and coastal. One large TV had been attached to the wall facing the bed, but Sam said there was no cable out here, so it only worked for casting. Insect screens covered every door and window, along with little signs warning against leaving them open. There was a small kitchen at one end, and an even smaller bathroom next to it. That surprised me.
Sam led me out the creaking screen door on the other side of the room from which we’d entered, and I wanted to dance. The deck was much wider here. Comfortable, deep, outdoor furniture and a hammock gave us plenty of places to rest, mosquito nets draped from the branches overhead for the evenings. Tree trunks growing through the floor of the decking on both sides of the house only added to the character of the place.
But the view… The view stole my breath.
Sam led me to the railing at the back of the deck and tipped his head for me to look over. I gasped.
A small waterfall fell from a natural rocky-outcropping to the right and into a wide, natural pool twenty feet below that fed a small waterway off to the left.
“It’s our bath,” Sam said with a quiet smile. “And our pool. And… well, just a place to cool off. There’s air conditioning and a bathroom inside, but the water pressure is for shit, and everyone I spoke to says we won’t want to close up the windows and doors so… this is how we cool off and get clean,” he said, looking at me sideways like he wasn’t quite sure how I’d feel about it.
“So, you’re saying… I get to see you naked and wet every day?” I said breathlessly.
Sam grinned. “Yes, babe. Yes, you do.”
“Have I died and gone to heaven?”
He snorted, but instead of taking my cue, he proceeded to show me all the ways we could make this place home.
He’d done it. He’d found my paradise.
This island was tiny and privately owned. The amenities were rustic and finicky, so the proper rich people didn’t like to come. It could only be reached by boat. But we were close enough to the mainland that there was cell service, and satellite internet.
Literally no other soul on the island except for a boat that would come every Thursday to pick up our trash and transport us to the main islands to shop for the week.
The only light on the island was whatever we turned on in the treehouse. It was powered mostly by solar panels, but there was a generator if a storm blew in. And though the bathroom was fully functional, the owners hadn’t lied when they said the water pressure was cruddy.
I was overjoyed. We couldn’t see another person or habitation unless we were on the main beach, and even then they were distant.
And that waterfall and swimming hole… god, it made my heart happy.
“We’ve got a month,” Sam said after showing me everything. “Talk about divine appointment, the day before I contacted them, their usual client pulled out of the booking at the last minute. We won’t go back until after New Year’s.”
I stared at him, speechless for a few seconds, then threw myself at him, peppering him with kisses, curling my legs around him, and gasping my thanks.
I almost cried while he held me, but I was so done feeling sad and scared. There was something a little uneasy in Sam’s eyes as he showed me everything, but I was ecstatic. There were boxes of groceries on the counter including some very nice wine. The fridge had already been stocked and the bed, while probably a little small for Sam’s stature, was comfortable and didn’t creak.
Not that it would matter if it did, since we were utterly alone out here.
I had so much fun discovering everything, praising Sam over and over again for how thoughtful he’d been.
It took almost an hour to unpack and put things away, figure out where everything was, and get over my giddiness, but as I finished putting our clothes in the one large dresser in the bedroom area, Sam spoke up from behind me.
“Hungry, Bridget?” he growled.
Thrilled, I turned to find him standing behind me, shirtless—which was devastating—and wearing those black velvet, fur-lined pants.
I raised my brows as my stomach clenched at the sight of him. “Don’t those make you sweat?” I snorted.
“You make me sweat,” Sam said in that low voice he had that curled up my spine every time he used it.
But as I started towards him to grab him and fuck him silly, he drew a present from behind his back and I stopped.
The box was roughly shoebox size, and wrapped as the others had been, though it all looked a little worse for wear after being packed and trudged across the country.
I looked at it, then back up at him with a question in my eyes.
“This is your reward for hiding candy from me,” he purred.
I snorted. “I only do that because if I leave it out you eat everything in one sitting.”
He gave a low, approving rumble. “And I plan to keep doing that,” he said with a suggestive grin as he handed me the box.
Assuming it would be snacks—maybe he’d bought some of those gummy dicks or something for a laugh?—I took the box and tore off the wrapping.
I was confused at first when I opened the lid to find several sealed jars and paintbrushes.
I looked up at Sam, who fought a smile. Standing over me, he pulled one of the jars out and opened it, his muscles bulging for a moment before the twist-lid gave.
“God, I’m never going to open another jar in my life,” I breathed.
Sam chuckled and handed me the jar. I frowned at it, then at him.
He sighed, but picked one of the paintbrushes out of the box and dipped it in the near-black paint inside.
“Open your mouth,” he said in that deep rumble.
My heart puttered, but I did as he asked, sticking out my tongue, and almost fist pumping when he painted my tongue with the brush, and all I could taste was sweet chocolate sauce.
“You’re definitely going to need a bath when I’m done with you,” he rasped.
I’m pretty sure my clothes fell off of their own accord.