13. Chapter 13
Lark
I vaguely remember Lennon coming in from the balcony, saying he was going to grab a quick shower, and then disappearing into his bedroom. I had every intention of also showering—and bringing my clothes with me this time—but I flop onto his couch for a minute.
The next thing I know, Lennon’s voice is whispering into my ear, low and rumbling. Sensual, like a lover might talk in the stolen hours of early morning. “Hey, Songbird.”
I bury myself into something, which I hazily start to realize is a throw pillow on Lennon’s couch. The moan that escapes me is only half-voluntarily.
Lennon chuckles. The sound of it pings through me, and suddenly, I’m alive. My eyes pop open, and he’s there. His sharp jaw dotted with sandy stubble, his equally fair hair falling casually over his forehead. Boyish dimples on either side of an indulgent smirk. Hazel eyes with flecks of gold.
“How long was I out?” I ask, rubbing my eyes and hoping that when I open them, he’ll look marginally less attractive.
No such luck. If anything, the light catches an even better angle when he shifts back onto his heels from his crouch in front of me. It throws his sharp features in an even starker relief.
“It’s two,” he says remorsefully. “I wanted to wake you a few times, but you seemed so tired this morning.”
I groan and roll to my back. “This feels like jet lag.”
“I mean, you are on a three-hour time difference,” he says, trying to be helpful.
“And going on two nights with no sleep,” I add. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the start to this trip I wanted.”
He takes my hand in his, our palms flush against one another. “You’re not going to believe this,” he says as he studies our hands coupled together over my stomach, “but the only thing that matters to me is that you’re here.”
I sigh up at the ceiling. “How did ten years pass between our last visit and now?”
He settles in closer, resting his elbow on the cushion next to my hip.
“My parents moved. Again. So when I traveled, I had to see them most of the time.” I don’t miss the bitter edge to his voice, and I give his hand a squeeze.
He squeezes back. “Richard left, Devin had a lot more going on, and when you traveled, you had to take her to him. Money was tight for both of us.”
I huff at that. “That’s an understatement.”
“Toss in a pandemic that caused a crisis in the airline industry, and here we are, I guess.” It sounds like he’s dodging something, but I’m too tired to press him.
“I should have made it a priority as soon as I could,” I say to the ceiling.
“We both should have,” he agrees quickly. “You’re not alone in that, so don’t go feeling all guilty.”
I eye him sidelong. “You’re right. If anything, it’s mostly your fault. You’re the single, childfree one.”
He nods solemnly. “I’m free as a bird.”
“The irony,” I say drily.
Lennon hums, then pauses for a moment as we both smile at each other like idiots. “So, listen. I know you need to practice before tomorrow, but I want to show off a bit first. Can I take you out?”
I chew on my lip as I study him. “Out where?”
He shrugs, but he’s got a giant grin on his face that makes me suspicious. “I didn’t intend to surprise you, but now I feel like I should.”
“What? No. Just tell me.”
He shakes his head, still smiling. “Dress casual.”
***
About two hours later, we’ve gotten a bottle of pinot noir, a giant charcuterie plate, some lavender almonds Lennon insists I try, and a box of dark chocolate truffles from a hip-looking wine bar in downtown Santa Monica.
They package everything up while we wait, and Lennon carries the bag to his Jeep where he sets it carefully on top of the blanket and two hoodies he brought.
“We can’t drink on the beach, so the wine is for later,” he says apologetically as he starts the car and pulls out of his parking space.
“Is that where we’re going?” I ask. “How unique.”
He spares me a glance as we pull out into traffic. “You can’t come out here and not go to the beach. We won’t walk the pier. Unless you want to.”
“This is your show. I’m merely along for the ride.”
He nods once, decisively. “We’ll save the pier for another day when we have more time. It’s iconic, if a bit cliché.”
“Should I have brought my swimsuit?” I don’t tell him I only have the one from Hannah, and I haven’t even tried it on yet.
“It’s always a little cold to swim,” he says as he pulls into a parking spot on the sand. Then, he turns to face me in his seat with a shit-eating grin. “We’re going to watch a proper sunset.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m never going to live it down, am I?”
“Nope.” He jumps out of the Jeep and makes his way to the back to get the supplies.
“Tell me you don’t have a kid who has woken up at five in the morning every day since she was in utero without telling me.” I swing my legs out of the Jeep and hop to the ground.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I am a sunrise person. I’m up every morning before the actual crack of dawn.
” I take the blanket and wrap it into a bundle so I can carry it easily.
“You are a sunset person, sleeping in as long as your heart desires and staying awake until well after the sun disappears. We live very different lives, my friend.”
“Well,” he says, tossing a book my way. A quick glance tells me it’s my copy of Sizzling Secrets . I tuck it between the blanket and my body as he continues. “This sunset is going to rock your world.”
“We’ll see,” I say skeptically.
“Completely upend everything you thought you knew about the rotation of the Earth,” he carries on lightheartedly as we make our way toward the water.
“Pretty sure the Earth keeps rotating, and that’s all anyone needs to know about it.” I keep my tone dry even as the blue expanse of the ocean right in front of me takes my breath away.
“It might even be a religious experience.”
“I kind of doubt a sunset has that kind of power.”
Lennon stops in what looks like an arbitrary place and drops the bag of food to the ground. “This is a good spot.”
I take in our surroundings. People in various states of dress walk around.
Kids squeal as they dip their toes into the cold water and run back to their parents.
A sand-volleyball game is in progress a few yards away.
In the distance, the Santa Monica Pier stretches out into the water.
The giant Ferris wheel rotates, the yellow-and-red basket seats swaying gently. “What makes this a good spot?”
Lennon works to spread the blanket out on top of the sand. He walks around it, tugging at the corners until it lays how he wants. “I can sense that you’re skeptical. I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”
He motions for me to sit. I fold my legs underneath me and drop to the blanket.
He starts taking boxes out of the bag from the wine bar and preparing our spread of food.
When I try to help, he swats me away. “Relax. Let me do this for you.” His hazel eyes are so intensely focused on me that the cool, salty air blowing off the ocean isn’t enough to cool me down.
“What am I supposed to do, then?” I ask weakly.
He smirks and shrugs. “Whatever you want. People watch. Look at the ocean and contemplate life. Read your book.” He winks, and it sends a shiver up my spine. Luckily, he’s turned back to his preparations, so he doesn’t see me tremble from head to toe.
It doesn’t take long for him to set up the spread of food.
It looks delicious—several cured meats, blocks of white and yellow cheeses, olives, grapes, and a little pot of honey.
He rips off a small piece of a baguette and hands it to me.
I top mine with some meat and cheese and honey and take a bite, moaning as the salty sweet taste hits my tongue.
I catch him watching me, and my cheeks heat. “Sorry,” I mutter. “I haven’t eaten anything in a while.”
He takes a bite and chews carefully as he looks out at the ocean. I watch his Adam’s apple as it bobs against his swallow. The surprising and completely inappropriate urge to lick his throat to see if it’s salty, too, crashes into me out of nowhere.
I turn away quickly and follow his gaze.
The shimmering water lapping at the shore calms my heart.
The rhythm of it is almost hypnotic, calling to me like a siren.
Without thinking too much about how ridiculous I’ll look, I kick off my sandals and roll up my jeans before jumping up and running toward the water.
When I reach the very edge of the tide, I slow to a stop.
My toes just kiss the edge of the water as it laps in and out of the sand.
“Wimp.” Lennon’s taunt comes from right behind me, and before I get a chance to face him, his arms circle my waist and lift me off the ground. He easily throws me over his shoulder in a fireman carry and runs out into the ocean.
I squeal in delight as he turns me this way and that. Salty water splashes my face and touches the tips of my hair as it hangs behind him. His laugh is a booming sound. Bigger than the ocean. Larger than life.
The only thing grander might be my love for him. It pushes against the seams that have haphazardly stitched me together over the years, bursts out of my pores, and explodes from me. It feels like sunshine. Like joy. Like finally coming home.
“Get ready for it,” he warns, and before I can ask what I’m supposed to be getting ready for, he sets me down in the water. It licks my ankles and soaks the cuff of my jeans. And it’s freezing.
“Holy shit.” I’m breathless, from the shock of him carrying me, from the explosion of emotions, from the cold ocean water on my bare feet.
He reaches down and splashes me. I throw my hands out in front of me with another laughing shriek. “It’s invigorating, right?”
“Something like that.” I splash him back.
He laughs heartily as the water turns his sage-green shirt darker where it lands. “You gotta jump in, though. Standing on the sidelines doesn’t have the same effect.”