18. Chapter Eighteen #2
“I’m not sure if we got your mother’s exact room, but she did say she had a perfect view of the Aran Islands from her window,” he says as he holds the door open for me while juggling all of our bags.
He refuses to let me carry anything but the takeout we picked up from a food vendor at the boat dock.
I set it on the table beside the window, looking out at a view that looks like something out of a fairytale.
We fall into the chairs across from each other, completely exhausted.
“I’m starving,” he tells me, pulling the boxed containers out of the bag.
“Me too.”
I notice he keeps checking his phone as we eat, and after the tenth time, I ask him about it.
“Ah, I just thought Cole would have responded by now.”
The disappointment in his voice makes me sad.
“I sent him a picture of the cliffs,” he goes on to say. “And a selfie of us. Oh, and one of that big ass fucking crow that tried to get in the car with us after we got our food.”
We both chuckle.
“I thought he was going to bite my face off,” I tell him, not even joking. I usually love birds, but that one was on a mission to steal our fries, and he wasn’t playing about it.
“Much safer to eat here in our room. I’ll take the single bed, and you can have the queen.”
“You’re paying for the room. You take the big one.”
We go back and forth, and I see there is no way I’m winning this argument.
I take a shower while he goes outside to call his parents. When he comes back, he has a bottle of wine with him. He waves it in the air. “I told them we were on our honeymoon.”
“You didn’t,” I say, grabbing the bottle from him and taking it to the table.
“I most certainly did. You look comfy,” he says, chuckling at my Betty Boop jammies.
“Hey, don’t make fun. They are my favorite. I’ve had them so long they’ve worn thin.” As the words leave my mouth, we both look directly at my chest. Oh. Oh, crap.
He looks away quickly, and I’m pretty sure my face is as red as his.
“Um, maybe I should change?” I can’t tell whether I’m asking him or telling him.
Carson pours wine into the glasses, taking the time to think about it.
His eyes meet mine when he slides a glass across the table to me.
“I think you should wear whatever you feel comfortable in. I’m sorry if me noticing …
how incredibly beautiful you are made you feel insecure in any way.
I’m a gentleman and I promise, I can act like one.
I just want you to be you around me if that makes sense. ”
“You want me to do what feels comfortable?”
He nods before leaning back in his chair and turning his focus to the sun that is setting out over the ocean.
“Well, these are the comfiest things I’ve ever worn, so I’d like to keep them on.”
An ornery smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and I know he got my message loud and clear. “Noted.”
“What do you normally wear to bed?” I ask after several minutes of silence. I can’t keep the grin off my face. I’m not sure, but I think I may actually be flirting with him.
His brow begins to rise on one side as he tries to read my energy. “I’ll be wearing sweatpants,” he says, answering safely.
“But is that what you normally wear?” I curl my legs under me and lean into the table, getting closer to him, my first sunset in Ireland coming in second to this moment in time.
“No.”
“I want you to wear whatever is comfortable. Unless you’re uncomfortable with being comfortable with me.”
He sets his glass down between us and leans forward, also forsaking the sun for me.
But I can feel the light slipping away from the day, leading us to a place in the shadows where we can just be Carson and Luna. I’ve never had anyone meet me here, will he?
“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says. Concern pulls his brows together, and I reach out brushing the tips of my fingers over his forehead.
“You will not make me uneasy if you’re simply being yourself.
” I tip my head to the side, studying him.
“My intuition tells me you are a gentleman, and I don’t think what you wear to bed will change that, so I am comfortable with whatever you choose, Carson.
I don’t want you to do things differently with me than you would any other woman,” I admit, a little embarrassed by my own insecurities. I let my hand fall away from his face.
He grabs it quickly, not wanting our touch to end.
He brings our hands to his mouth. “I can’t treat you like other women.
Not because you’re fragile, but because you’re the only one who’s ever seen me.
I’ve never let anyone this far into my mind before.
To be honest, I don’t really know how to act around you, because I’ve never felt this way before.
It’s so new, I’m like a clumsy toddler just learning to walk. ”
“Me too.”
“Great, so we’re going to be walking around Ireland bumping into each other.” He smiles and relief eases the lines on his face.
“I certainly hope so, but if you think it’s going to be a problem maybe we should hold hands to prevent bouncing off of each other.”
He laughs. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“Good.” I lean back in my chair and wave him off to the shower.
Once I’m alone, my focus returns to the darkening horizon.
The moon appears over the ocean.
“Hello, twin,” I whisper to it.
The moon taught me to be still. To find the place inside of me that is unwavering … always okay. My mother taught me that everything has a purpose in your life. Even the birds, dragonflies, trees, water, sun, and moon.
“Nature is a perfect guide. When you get lost, go to it, and it will turn you in the right direction.”
The door to the bathroom opens. “I forgot to give you something,” Carson says, coming out in nothing but a towel.
“I’m okay, and so are you,” my heart whispers.
He grabs a book out of his suitcase and hands it to me.
My hand brushes over the luna moth on the front of the journal. “It’s beautiful,” I say, opening it to find it full of blank pages.
“I thought you might want to write about our trip.”
“For our daughter,” my mind whispers.
“This is so thoughtful,” I tell him. I grab the hotel pen sitting on the table and open it to the first page. “Day one,” I read aloud as I write the words at the top.
“Okay, then I’ll get back to it,” he points to the bathroom as he walks away.
“Thank you.”
He nods shyly before disappearing.
I stare down at the blank page.
The shower turns on, drawing my eyes to the bathroom door.
I let my gaze roam over the room. It’s cozy, lit by lamps with old-school lightbulbs.
Not those blinding ones we have in the States.
And suddenly it all feels perfectly aligned, as if the room is reflecting something happening inside me.
My pen scratches over the page in one short stroke, crossing out what I’ve written, because this feels more than a simple day one.
I curl up in the chair with my wine, the moon, and the first ramblings of a lovestruck woman.
Who would have thought?