Chapter 25 Annabelle
Annabelle
I’m standing on the same balcony again. I’m mesmerized watching the setting sun over the ocean.
Arms entangle me in an embrace, and I’m whispering words of comfort to the man who holds me.
“That must have been so hard. Thank you for telling me.” After a long moment, he releases me, and I see his face.
He’s handsome, with wavy hair and deep blue eyes.
“Boyish good looks” is the phrase I’d use to describe him.
My eyes are drawn to the dimple above his smile.
I feel an overwhelming sense of camaraderie and affection.
“Shall we have another glass of wine before we go down to dinner?” he asks.
I nod. He goes into the hotel room and retrieves a bottle of red, topping off the glasses sitting on the table. We both sit down and pick up our glasses. He lifts his to toast.
“Here’s to being seen,” he says. We clink our glasses, then drink.
“I’m so grateful to be able to talk to you about this. My wife wants to leave it in the past, but I can’t. I need to talk about them. It feels wrong not to, as though they didn’t matter.”
I nod. “Exactly. My husband is the same way. I have to keep it all bottled up inside. It feels so good to be able to share it with someone who can relate.” I should feel disloyal, sitting here with a man who isn’t my husband, talking about intimacies that should be shared only with James, but I don’t.
Instead, I feel grateful. Justified even.
We’re both quiet suddenly, the only sound the crashing of the waves.
An impulse comes over me and I stand, holding out a hand.
“Let’s go swimming! I’ve been dying to jump in the ocean since we got here.”
“Only someone from the East Coast would want to swim in the Pacific in October.” He grins. “What about dinner?”
“We can stop by the restaurant on the way down, and see if they can push back the reservation.”
“Okay, why not.”
“I’ll meet you downstairs. I’ll go change.”
I head to my room, which is next door. It’s the first time I’ve stayed at Shutters, the first time I’ve been to Santa Monica, and I love it.
As soon as we arrived, I felt as though it was somewhere I could live.
I grab my one-piece from my suitcase and change.
If James were here, he’d have laughed off my suggestion as silly and insisted we keep our dinner reservation.
But the man I’m with is so different. It hits me that I don’t know his name.
In fact, I don’t know what we’re doing here at all.
Am I having an affair? No, that can’t be right.
We’d be sharing a room. This must be a business trip.
All I know is that for the first time in forever, I feel validated and free.
I push James to the back of my mind. I don’t want anything to ruin this, whatever this is.
When I get downstairs, he’s waiting for me, and he’s remembered to bring towels.
He takes my hand, and together we run down the beach toward the water, like two kids.
He lifts his arms and pulls off his T-shirt.
I stare at his flat stomach and well-muscled chest. It’s obvious that he works out.
He catches me looking, and I feel the heat spread to my face as I quickly look away.
I suddenly feel shy about taking off my cover-up.
“Come on, Reynolds, lose the dress.”
I take a deep breath and pull it over my head, sucking in my stomach.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yep,” I say as we both run to the water.
“Come on, gotta do it fast,” he says, splashing me. I squeal, then dive under the surface. It’s freezing! I pop back up at the same time he does, staring at the water dripping from his curls. We’re both shivering.
“That was great, but—” I say.
“Time to get out,” he finishes. He grabs my hand as we hastily make our way out of the water, running to beat the wave inches from crashing over us.
We both collapse on the sand, laughing so much that we can hardly speak.
Finally, we stand up, rubbing our arms to warm them.
There’s sand stuck to his cheek and I have the urge to brush it off, but I hold back.
“I guess we should get out of these wet suits and change for dinner,” I say as I get to my feet.
“Yeah. We should definitely get out of these suits.”
Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze a beat longer than necessary.
Conflicting emotions run through me. He picks up one of the towels and drapes it over my shoulders.
It feels intimate and caring. I start to walk back toward the hotel before the moment turns into something that I’ll regret.
But as I walk away from him, the only thing that I feel is regret.
“Annabelle, wait. I have something—”
Annabelle’s alarm roused her from her dream, and her eyes flew open.
She still had butterflies in her stomach as she pictured the man again, his twinkling eyes, the curly hair, and his fit physique.
She couldn’t remember ever fabricating an entire person in her dreams before.
She’d had the occasional dream about a celebrity crush or an old boyfriend, but the man in this dream was so vivid, so real.
She’d never seen him before, of that she was sure. She would have remembered.
She suddenly felt guilty. She was happily married to a wonderful man.
So what if they didn’t agree on everything?
Even after finding out about Margaurite breaking her arm at gymnastics, James wouldn’t change his position on Annabelle’s dreams, insisting that it was a crazy coincidence.
She attributed it to the fact that as a medical doctor, he had a hard time believing in anything that couldn’t be scientifically proven.
In every other way, though, he was supportive and thoughtful.
Husbands didn’t have to be in sync with every facet of their wives, after all, that was what girlfriends were for.
Annabelle spoke aloud. “I’m grateful for my family. I’m grateful that Olivia wasn’t hurt. I’m grateful for my job. I’m grateful for my husband.” But even as she spoke her affirmations out loud, her mind drifted back to the man with the arresting blue eyes.