39. Connor
CHAPTER 39
CONNOR
B eing on Ibiza with Alex was amazing. The club scene had been kind of intriguing, but now that we were here, I just had no interest in going, and neither did he. Staying here at the villa was just too perfect.
We lounged on that enormous couch and watched movies on the huge flatscreen. We drank wine in the pool while the sun went down. We walked down to the beach and had an amazing, romantic stroll along the water’s edge without worrying that anyone who saw us cared.
There was plenty of sex, too, of course, though we did pace ourselves; neither of us wanted to be sore for our trip or for the flights home.
The one drawback was that PTSD didn’t take vacations. Our first night together was broken up by several of my nightmares. The second night, his past came to visit. It sucked, but calming down in his arms or holding him while he trembled just drove home how much I wanted to be with him. He was so gentle and supportive on my bad nights, and no matter how much he insisted on apologizing for his, I had no complaints about being there to bring him back down. I wished he didn’t have the nightmares, of course, but if they were a part of his reality, then I was grateful that I could do something to help.
The morning after his rough night, he was a little bleary-eyed when he came shuffling into the kitchen, but he seemed okay.
“Hey,” I said. “You were finally asleep—I didn’t want to leave you alone, but I didn’t want to wake you up either.”
“You’re fine. I think I did finally crash.” He rubbed his eyes. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Almost 1100.”
He groaned. “Fuck. So much for going anywhere today.”
“We still have plenty of time. But we also don’t have to do anything. This is a vacation, so we’re allowed to relax.”
The response to that was a grunt. He gave me a quick peck on the lips, then opened a cabinet to get a coffee cup. “At least I did manage to pass out and actually sleep. I don’t think I’ve slept that well in… hell, I don’t know how long.”
“I bet.” As he poured himself some coffee, I asked, “Any thoughts about what you do want to do with today?”
“Not yet,” he said over his shoulder. “How about as little as possible?”
“That sounds perfect. We’ve got a bunch of shows stacked up on Netflix. Want to lounge around on the couch and binge something?”
Alex turned around, steaming coffee in hand and a big grin on his lips. “Hell yeah.” He made a face. “I really should go for a run or hit a gym today, but… eh. One more day off won’t kill me.”
I brought my own coffee up to my lips. “I’m sure we can work in some cardio before the day is over.”
He just laughed before taking a careful sip of coffee.
We did in fact spend the entire day alternately indulging in the sins of sloth and lust. Maybe a little gluttony, too, but the pizza we had delivered wasn’t that big.
It was decadent and lazy, but it was also… quiet. Comfortable. Just the two of us enjoying a chill day together in a beautiful villa with no expectations, no pressure, and no need to put on anything more formal than a pair of gym shorts.
I’d known when I came to Spain how much I needed sex and company, but I hadn’t realized how much I needed this . How much I’d craved casual affection and just spending time with someone doing little more than being together. This felt so… relaxed. So domesticated .
Was this what lazy Saturdays with a partner were supposed to feel like? Because for all the years I’d been married, I didn’t fucking know. Relaxed mornings with Aimee were anything but because it always felt like something was about to happen. Like there was this tension between us—a brewing fight, something one of us had forgotten about that the other was stewing over, a reason to think shit was about to go south.
For a long time, I’d thought that was an after effect of combat. Quiet, peaceful moments in a warzone could be more stressful than a firefight. At least in a firefight, you mostly knew where the enemy was and where the bullets and mortars were coming from. After a few bombs dropped out of the clear blue sky, it was easy to start getting paranoid about clear blue skies.
So I’d always figured that was what was happening on those quiet mornings with Aimee.
But here with Alex, I didn’t have that nagging, neck-prickling certainty that something was going to happen.
I wasn’t sure what that said about my marriage.
I definitely wasn’t sure what it said about this thing with Alex.
All I knew was that I liked it.