Chapter 6 #2
I was still tense when we waited for our luggage at the baggage carousel a few hours later.
It didn’t help that I had several missed calls from an unknown number, as well as one from my mom.
I had a pretty good feeling I knew who was calling from the unknown number, but I’d been hoping the problem would just go away.
Clearly, that had been overly optimistic.
I sighed, resolving to call Mom back soon since it was past midnight.
We’d been warned that customs was running slower. They were short-staffed due to the late hour, and I was hoping they’d be as motivated to process us as we were to get out of here. I was more than ready to crash, and we still had to take a ferry to Anguilla.
I lowered my baseball cap, hoping no one else would recognize me. I tried to be kind to fans, but sometimes people could be so…invasive. One wrong move or statement taken out of context had the power to destroy my career.
“Is something wrong?” Bryn nudged me, and I hated that she’d picked up on my unease.
“Everything’s fine.”
When I spied my duffel bag, I tossed it over my shoulder before taking Bryn’s bags in my other hand. “Come on.”
“Bear,” she chided. “You really don’t have to—”
“Bryn.” I leaned in. “I don’t have to. I want to.”
She didn’t argue again after that, but I had a feeling her acquiescence had more to do with fatigue than agreement. Regardless of the reason, I’d take it as a win.
After waiting in line then clearing customs, we stepped outside, only to discover that the ferry to Anguilla had stopped running hours ago.
And there wouldn’t be another one until the morning.
Bryn sank down on a bench and called the hotel, placing the phone on speaker.
They promised to send a boat just for us and apologized profusely for the inconvenience.
At least that was settled. And our bags had arrived, which was a relief, considering the fact that we’d been rerouted.
As Bryn and I sat on the pier, waiting for our boat, she leaned her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her, holding her close. Just that simple contact had me feeling calmer.
“Well, this has been quite the adventure so far.” She laughed.
“That’s one word for it,” I joked.
Her body was warm against mine, and I loved the way she felt in my arms. Like she belonged there.
Despite a long day of travel with numerous setbacks, Bryn hadn’t complained once. In fact, she’d taken it all in stride just like she did everything else in life.
When a boat pulled up to the dock, a man in a Huxley Grand uniform stepped onto the pier. “Mrs. Morgan?”
“Yes. Thank you for coming to get us.” Bryn smiled as if it were normal. And I supposed for her, it was. That was her name—Morgan. Derek’s last name. Her married name. But hearing her referred to as Mrs. gave me a jolt.
I watched Bryn, but she didn’t seem fazed.
It was a powerful reminder that part of her would always belong to Derek.
The wind pushed her hair away from her face, and I remembered the feeling of cupping her cheek.
She’d looked up at me as if I were her whole world.
And I held on to that feeling, realizing that maybe she could also belong to me.
“I’m James with the Huxley Grand Anguilla,” the man said, interrupting my thoughts. “Allow me to load your bags, and then we’ll be on our way. There are some waters and snacks on board. Please help yourself. It’s about a twenty-minute ride to Anguilla.”
During the ride, James told us about the history of the island and the resort amenities. It was pleasant on the water, but more than anything, I wanted a shower to wash the travel grime off me and a comfortable bed. Judging from the looks of the resort as we docked, neither would be an issue.
I’d stayed at a number of Huxley Grand properties—they were the official hotel of the Hollywood Hawks after all.
But never one like this. It was located in one of the most exclusive spots in the Caribbean.
A tiny island only sixteen miles long and three miles wide that didn’t allow cruise ships, high rises, or casinos. Sounds like heaven.
After debarking, we followed James up the path toward the hotel that looked more like a giant sandcastle rising out of the island.
The cream-colored walls practically glowed against the night sky.
And what a sky it was—full of stars that reminded me of being back in Canada, where there was way less light pollution than LA.
Waves crashed in the distance, and I could only imagine what this place looked like during the day.
Magical was the best word to describe it.
The hotel seemed designed to showcase the natural landscape, contorting itself to the land instead of imposing itself on nature.
The sea air was a balm to my soul, and I found myself relaxing.
This was the first vacation I’d taken in years, and I got to spend it with Bryn. The idea had me smiling.
James stopped in front of a bungalow overlooking the ocean. Well, I assumed it had an ocean view based on the volume of the waves and the path we’d traveled from the dock, but it was too dark to see. “Welcome to your beachfront bungalow.”
“Wait.” Bryn frowned. “There must have been a mistake because I booked a suite in the main resort.”
James smiled. “The happy couple gifted you with an upgrade.”
“Oh. Oh wow,” Bryn said, clearly surprised. “That’s very…generous.”
“You are fortunate,” James continued. “It’s difficult to get a bungalow, especially during the high season. And between your wedding party and another one, the resort is full.”
We followed James inside, and he set our bags down before walking over to the French doors facing the ocean.
My attention was on the ceiling, where warm wood beams followed the slope of the roof, drawing the eye up toward the peak.
The craftsmanship was beautiful, and I admired the work that must have gone into it.
James opened the French doors, letting the ocean air sweep through, ruffling the gauze curtains that pooled on the floor and draped around the bed.
The floor was comprised of large tiles in varying sizes and shades of sand, from pale to the richness of brown sugar.
I wondered if the materials were native to the area because they certainly seemed to fit right in.
“Out here, we have a plunge pool or hot tub,” James said. Bryn and I followed him out to the deck, where a round pool rested in the wood surface. There, he demonstrated how the controls worked to make the water heated or cool. How to turn on the lights.
The ocean was dark, but the sound of the waves was comforting. The water ebbed and flowed, a constant in a sea of change. But even that constant was never exactly the same, the tides and the seashore always shifting, much like my relationship with grief.
We headed back inside, back by that huge bed covered in smooth, creamy bedding and the most luxurious-looking pillows.
I kept waiting for James to show us a second bedroom.
But he seemed more concerned with demonstrating how the resort tablet could be used to order room service, find out more about the resort amenities, or select from one of the many in-room workouts.
After pointing out the bathroom with its huge rain-head shower and freestanding bathtub with a giant picture window behind it, we returned to the main room.
And it was then that I realized there was no other bedroom.
I frowned, glancing around as if a door to another bedroom might magically appear.
I must have misunderstood. Maybe my room had also been upgraded, and he had yet to show it to me.
Bryn thanked James with a tight smile. When he headed for the door, I grabbed my bag and moved to follow him.
“Can I help you with something else, sir?” he asked. “Would you like me to unpack your things?”
“Oh, I—”
“We’re good, James,” Bryn said. “Thank you.”
I thanked James and paid him a generous tip before he left.
Now that we were alone, Bryn and I looked at each other and then at the bed. It was looming over us, and I had no idea what was running through her mind. She seemed just as taken aback by the sleeping arrangements as I was.
I dragged a hand down my face. I was exhausted from the long day of travel.
“I, uh…” Bryn seemed to hesitate. “When I booked the room, I selected a suite with two beds. In two separate rooms, actually.” She glanced around, looking anywhere but at me.
I honestly hadn’t given the sleeping arrangements much thought until now. Bryn had assured me everything was handled, and I trusted her. And while I could understand Allie wanting to give Bryn special accommodations, we were just friends. I was here as her plus-one.
She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, then let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry about this, Frasier. I, um… Yeah.” She glanced away, seeming to be at a loss for words.
I still didn’t understand why Bryn’s sister would upgrade us to a one-bedroom bungalow with only one bed. But Allie had, and now the resort was full.
“What do you propose?” I asked, wanting to focus on a solution.
Bryn went over to the sofa, inspecting it. “Maybe the couch has a pull-out mattress I could sleep on.”
As if I would let her sleep anywhere but the bed.
“You’ll take the bed,” I said in a firm tone. This was not up for discussion.
The couch definitely wasn’t a pull-out. This resort was far too swanky for something like that. As it was, the couch would be too short for her, let alone for my six-foot-two frame.
She furrowed her brow. “You’ll never fit on the couch, and you need your sleep.”
“And you don’t?” I shot back.
She waved a hand through the air. “I’ll be fine.” But she wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I frowned. What wasn’t she telling me? She bustled about, unzipping her suitcase and pulling out some items.
“Bryn?”
“It’s late.” She gave me a wan smile. “We’re both tired. I just want to shower and go to bed.”
“Exactly. In bed. Not on a couch.” I crossed my arms over my chest. On this, I would not yield.
“I…” She stopped pacing, dragging a hand down her face. “This isn’t going to work—sharing a room. I’ll just…I’ll have to figure out something.”
I dropped my arms, hands resting loosely at my sides. “Because of me?” My tone was cautious. I was scared to hear the answer.
I hated the thought that I made her uncomfortable. But I also knew it didn’t make sense.
We were together almost all the time. She’d passed out on the plane. She’d fallen asleep many times during our movie nights. Her head on my shoulder, legs curled beneath her on the couch or her feet resting on my thighs.
“No, Bear.” She dropped her head to her chest. “Because of me.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Because of your insomnia?” I asked, knowing that she’d struggled with it since losing Derek. But she hadn’t mentioned it in a while, and she’d seemed more well-rested overall.
She nodded. “Sometimes it doesn’t matter how exhausted I am, my mind will not stop spinning. It’s not every night, and it’s definitely gotten a lot better. But I never know when it will strike. And the idea that it might happen—that I might wake you up—stresses me out.”
Wake me up? As if I cared about that.
She suddenly seemed so small. So fragile. I hated it.
I moved before I could think, crossing the room in a few strides and pulling her into my arms. Her cheek was pressed to my chest. Her head rested beneath my chin. Despite our height and size difference, we just…fit.
She fit. In my life. My world. My heart.
Slowly, she lifted her arms so they were wrapped around me. The ocean breeze whispered through the trees like a lovers’ secret. And for a moment, everything felt right in the world.
“Thank you,” she said, surprising me.
“For what?”
“That was a really good hug.” She patted my chest, her hand stilling over my heart. “You always give the best hugs. Somehow, you always seem to know exactly what I need.”
She lowered her hand and took a few steps back. When she sighed, the sound filled the bungalow with such sadness. “I miss that—you know. Physical touch.”
Was she saying what I thought she was? That she missed sex?
It wasn’t a topic we’d ever broached before, but of course she’d miss sex, intimacy, connection. It was a huge part of any relationship, and she and Derek had been together for nearly a decade.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what would make her feel better or worse. But if she missed physical touch, then I was more than happy to hold her.
I opened my arms once more, beckoning her in. “Come ’ere.”
She stepped into my embrace, and I held her close, resting my chin on the top of her head. Inhaling her scent. Closing my eyes as I soaked in the feeling of her body next to mine.
This wasn’t about getting out of the friend zone or wooing her. This was about comforting Bryn and being there for her.
“I miss him too,” I admitted.
She nodded against my chest. “I know. I know,” she said again, more softly this time.
We stayed there, holding each other. It wasn’t the first time we’d clung to each other, but unlike other times in the past, the sadness didn’t feel quite so heavy. If anything, it felt peaceful. As if we’d found our solace in each other.
“Part of me will always miss him,” she whispered. “But I’m tired of feeling…stuck. I have to find a way forward.”
I nodded. I knew the feeling well, and I hated that she felt that way too. But I was encouraged by the fact that she wanted to find a path forward. Because we both knew there was no going back. No matter how much we might wish to change the past, Derek was gone.
“We will.” I rubbed her back, wanting to reassure her.
“We will find a way forward.” I was certain of it.
I had to cling to that notion, or I’d spiral into a grief so consuming that I feared I’d never surface again, just like I had when he’d first died.
Hockey and Bryn had been the things to get me through it.
Bryn clutched my shirt, and when she peered up at me, the sight of her glassy eyes and pink cheeks, those dark, wet lashes, was nearly my undoing. There was something about seeing her like that. I hated that she was hurting, but I was glad she’d let me in.
The fact that she was letting me in on a moment of vulnerability stirred something deep inside me—a protective instinct. A sense of pride. Of gratitude.
“Together?” she asked.
“Together,” I vowed.