Chapter 33
Mateo
“I think I might cry,” Jett says as the ROV sinks beneath the choppy waves, descending into the depths one last time on this voyage.
One final shot to film, and the anticipation in the room is palpable.
Charlie spent the morning whispering sweet nothings to her crystals, hoping to manifest something spectacular for the final dive. Vivian mutters to her controls like it will guide her to greatness. Jett bounces on his toes and annoys the ever-loving shit out of Sofía as he chatters in her ear.
Charlie’s back is pressed against my chest as we stand behind Vivian, watching as the ROV sinks.
It was hard to look at her this morning and not laugh, the memory of her starfished on the bed, monologuing about schlongs and wieners and how nice she finds mine.
It was glaringly obvious she was tipsy from the moment she said ding-a-ling, but my heart leaped from my chest witnessing her so open and free .
The soft wisps of her hair graze along my forearms as I wrap my arms over her shoulders, clutching her tightly. My fingers dance along her collarbone, and she shivers, goose bumps breaking out along her skin. She sinks deeper into the embrace, lifting a hand and placing it on my forearm.
We’re intertwined with each other, subtle intimacy in every touch.
It would be difficult to believe Charlie and I made it this far in only three weeks, but I’ve spent the last two years slowly falling for her, uncovering her every quirk and intricacy and finding space for each in my heart.
She woke me up this morning buzzing with pent-up energy. Before I could remove my mask, she was on top of me, asking me if I had plans tonight.
We share a room and we’re on a boat. Her plans are my plans.
When I told her that, her smile grew brighter and she nodded frantically, insisting we watch the stars together tonight. One last time before the light pollution ruins the view.
That’s what she said out loud, but her body language and her energy told a different tale—the opening lines of a story I hope to tell for the rest of my life.
“If you start crying, make sure you do it from your good angle,” Doug deadpans from across the room. He gets a few bewildered looks before adding, “Makes for good footage.”
He shrugs and returns to his computer, slipping his headphones over his ears to block out the noise.
The room is quiet as the ROV hits five hundred meters, but Charlie is on edge. Every few minutes, she glances over her shoulder, peruses my body, blushes, and then returns her focus to the footage.
She does it again when we hit eight hundred meters, and another time at a thousand.
“Is there something you’d like to say?” I ask, biting back a laugh .
“N-no.” Her voice cracks.
Liar.
She’s never been great at keeping a secret or hiding her emotions. She’s making an attempt, and I commend her valiant effort, but everything she feels is written all over her face. It’s easy to read, like a children’s book.
“Sure, bruja.” I kiss her temple.
I’m trying to keep my cool and not behave like a lunatic, but the muscles in my face are beginning to twitch.
“You’re freaking me out,” she whispers. “Why does your face look like that?”
What does she expect from me?
The woman I love is going to tell me she loves me back. I would say, given the circumstances, I am handling myself wonderfully.
“No reason.” I reach into my pocket. “Here. Chocolate. Eat.”
She shimmies as she devours the treat, turning back to the monitor and softly humming a tune I can now identify as a One Direction song.
The video grows hazy as the sunlight fades and darkness creeps in. The floodlights flash, illuminating heavy debris in the water.
“ Oh …Marine snow,” Charlie mutters, inching closer to the screen. Jett elbows her, and she elaborates. “It’s biological debris that falls from the surface. A number of deep-sea organisms rely on it as a food source, like a—”
“Holy shitballs,” Jett yells as a rust-colored blob darts along the screen. “What is that thing ?”
It hovers in the water column, tentacles fanned out as its long filament collects marine snow and zooplankton to feed. Its massive eye faces the camera, giving the illusion the creature is staring at us. It’s unsettling.
“A vampire squid,” Charlie yells, “but the best part is it’s a faux moniker. It’s not a squid at all!”
“What is it, then?” Sofía asks .
“Squids belong in the cephalopod family with octopi,” I explain. “Vampire squids belong in a family of their own. They’re both mollusks, though.”
“And it doesn’t even eat live prey. It’s a detritivore,” Charlie adds.
“It eats dead organic material,” I translate for those in the room unfamiliar with the term, which is everyone but Charlie and me.
She’s an incredible scientist, but when she’s excited, she forgets other people don’t understand scientific vernacular.
It hovers in the water, barely moving, and once Vivian and Lucas are happy with the footage, they leave the creature behind.
Jett and Charlie chit-chat about the vampire squid, and she lists off facts.
The seafloor is riddled with anemones and basket stars, and Vivian slows the ROV, capturing as much video as possible on the final dive.
I scribble down the species I recognize with the timestamps and mark anything we need to rewatch the film to identify. Charlie is lost in conversation, abandoning her duties to giggle with Sofía.
“Please,” she begs, shaking Vivian’s shoulders, “just for a minute. Please .”
I’m too far away to hear Vivian’s response, but I see Charlie scrunch her nose and say, “I promise not to crash.”
Excitement dawns on Charlie’s face as Vivian rises from her chair and lets her sit down and take control of the ROV. Her feet pitter-patter beneath the control board, and she squeals when she alters the trajectory.
“Mateo,” she yells, her head swirling around until she finds me. “Get a photo.”
I pull out my phone and snap a few of her guiding the ROV, then immediately make it my screensaver, selecting the one where her face is contorted with glee.
Vivian kicks her out of the chair, and Charlie returns to my side, her cinnamon and menthol scent permeating in the air .
“That was awesome, ” she mutters, instantly wrapping her hand around my bicep like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Almost as natural as loving her.
Charlie guides me to the chairs on the far end of the deck, away from busybodies or unexpected guests. Our hands are interlaced, and I pretend not to notice her slight tremor when her grip loosens.
I could say no need to be nervous, I’ve been in love with you for a long time , but that would ruin the fun.
The corner of the deck is quiet, and Charlie’s laid out blankets on a chair. When I reach the seat, she shoves me onto it with brutal force.
She’s acting insane, but I don’t want to ruin this for her. Anyone can see she’s nervous as hell, and I know how much this moment means to her, but does she really need to catapult me into the chair?
Asking me to sit down like a good boy would work just fine.
“Enjoying the view?” I tease.
Charlie stands rigid in front of me, wringing her hands as she stares at me. She looks away momentarily, offering a side view of her face as she mumbles something to herself.
I would bet a hundred dollars she asked what Darwin would do.
Her eyes glow beneath the starlight when she turns back to face me. She unfolds a crumpled piece of paper, clearing her throat.
“I have something I would like to say, but you can’t cut me off.” She gives me a serious look, and the bottom edge of her scar wrinkles.
Fuck, she’s hot.
This seems like an inappropriate time to sport a boner .
I know she’s referring to when I cut off her last attempt at a confession, but it led to this moment, and I won’t apologize for that.
“So bossy,” I mutter, gnawing at my lip to fight a smile.
This is a serious moment, and no matter how adorable she looks with her crinkled paper, I’m not going to laugh.
“I used to call you Satan,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “Sometimes I’m still convinced. I mean, who wears long sleeves in the summer?” She pauses, reviewing her words, and I let her work through her thoughts. Pot meet kettle . “Disregard my last comment.”
“Completely forgotten.”
My lip twitches.
“There’s something so…infuriating about the way you steal my attention, but I don’t—”
“Hey, what are you guys—”
Charlie whirls, glaring at Jett, who’s making his way over to us. I try to signal for him to run the fuck away, but he misses it and gains ground.
“Go away,” she screams, the paper receiving the brunt force of her grip. Jett gives me a confused look but runs back down the stairs without another word. I try to cover my laugh with a cough, but it’s futile.
This is the best—and worst—confession I’ve ever been a part of, and only weeks ago, Charlie stomped into the bathroom and told me I smell like a summer’s breeze.
“This is going horribly,” she grumbles.
“You’re doing amazing.” I reach out to smooth a hand down her thigh. Her muscles relax, and she straightens her shoulders. “Keep going.”
She smooths out the paper once more.
“I would spend a lot of time thinking about you.”
“That’s sweet. ”
“Like how to assert my academic dominance and how to ensure you would have a horrible hair day.” That’s a lot less sweet. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about your hair. Big fan now.”
Her confidence gains with every word, but now I have a sliver of trepidation.
“I spent a lot of time thinking about you, Mateo, but I never saw you. And that will always be my greatest mistake.” She sniffles as she focuses on the paper. “I never knew the best thing to ever happen to me was sitting across from me every day, leaving me chocolate and humming songs.”
She drops onto the edge of the chair and takes my head between her hands, tears streaming down her face. The monologue she wrote is forgotten, and the moment shifts into something tender.
Tears burn at the corners of my eyes as her thumbs trace my cheekbones.
“You are a wonderful man,” she says, banishing a tear that falls. “Charming. Kind. Supportive. You make me feel seen and understood, and these last three weeks with you have been the best of my life. I am wonderfully lucky to call you mine.”
Tears stream down both our cheeks. I never expected to cry, but hearing her words, feeling her touch on my skin…it’s all too overwhelming.
I reach out to hold her, but she steps back.
“I have more I want to say.” My heart skips a few beats at her radiance.
“Being with you has made me a better person. Someone I’m proud to look at in the mirror.
I’m not perfect. I’m messy and competitive, and I’m still learning to appreciate who I am, but I want to experience life with you.
I want the ups and downs. I want to wake up with your CPAP hose plastered to my back and spend quiet mornings drinking coffee together.
“It’s crazy, but I’ve never been so sure about something in my life.
I’m in love with you. Amy once told me that falling in love is an act of blind faith.
But you made it so easy to fall, because I knew you would be there to catch me.
I could spend the next forty years as a scientist, but you will always be my greatest discovery. My most important find. My purpose .”
I’ve never been overwhelmed to the point of tears, but if anyone could manage the feat, it would be my Charlie.
She squishes my face. “These are happy tears, right?”
I’m staring at her like an idiot, but what the fuck?
That was the most beautiful declaration of love I’ve ever heard—it brought me to tears, for fuck’s sake—and now I’m expected to top it?
My “I love you” is going to sound super freaking lame compared to her “you’re my greatest discovery.”
She’s not the only competitive one in this relationship, and the only reason I was letting her say it first was because I planned to stun her with my words of love and adoration.
Now I’m the chump who has to follow up her heartfelt, authentic admission.
How the hell am I supposed to make her feel as loved as I do right now?