32. Chapter 32
Henrik
“I hate this,” Mal says, making me chuckle.
“Not a toes-in-the-sand kind of guy?” I respond, skimming my palm over Mal’s arm until I find his hand. I interlace our fingers together on top of his beach towel, and Mal gives me a squeeze.
“Not in the least. It’s everywhere . Pretty sure I have some in my ass crack, which doesn’t even make sense. I’ve been sitting on a towel.”
“You went in the water with Alma,” I point out as the breeze cools the sweat on my skin. “It probably floated inside your trunks.”
Mal scoffs. “Well, it can float right out next time. I’m going to have to wash every-damn-where.” He snorts a laugh. “Reminds me of my last scene at Elite 8.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.” He twists my hand in his grip, running his fingers over my knuckles gently. “It was a lot like this.”
My brows draw in. “Fucking on a beach?”
“Yeah, exactly,” he says with a laugh. “I thought I was sealing my fate as Malibu that day, but instead I found you, and everything changed.”
I smile at the wistfulness in his tone. “Six months.”
It’s been six months since this man walked into my life. Six wonderful, life-altering months.
“Half a year,” Mal adds in agreement. “Just think, if I were still on contract, you’d be done with me right about now.”
I scowl. “Cut it out. I don’t even want to think about that.”
Mal chuckles gently, swinging himself onto my towel and proceeding to rain sand down on my body. He leans close, blocking the sun from my face. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” I say, squeezing his hips. His suit is wet beneath my fingertips. “I can’t…” I swallow. “I can’t imagine you being gone. Six months wouldn’t have been nearly enough time.”
“And what would be enough?” he asks cheekily, leaning close enough that his hair brushes the sides of my face.
“Let’s start with a lifetime.”
I can practically hear the smile in Mal’s voice when he says, “I like the sound of that.” His lips press against mine chastely before he sits back, finagling his towel and plopping down right next to me, arm against arm.
The sun shines over my face and body once more, hot enough that I’m grateful for the breeze, and the sound of children playing nearby drifts on the wind.
“Is Benjamin relaxing?” I ask.
Mal twists away for a moment before confirming, “Yep. Sitting in a chair next to Gary.”
“Good. And my parents?”
“Under the giant umbrella still. Looks like your mom is reading a book. And I think your dad is asleep.”
I snort. “Most likely. Alma?”
There’s a pause before he answers, “Hm. Not sure. I don’t see her at the moment.”
I hum, thinking we’ll probably need to reapply sunscreen soon if we’re out here much longer.
It was my idea, vacationing at the beach for our half-year anniversary.
We didn’t go to Malibu—the city. Instead, we opted for San Diego.
I brought my family along because, well, I’m trying to be better about accepting their well-intentioned presence in my life.
I understand my parents a little better than I used to. The protectiveness. The need to help .
I didn’t appreciate it when I was younger, when all I could see was the inevitable stripping of my independence. I wanted to cling to as much of my sense of self as humanly possible before some changes had to be made to accommodate my declining sight.
Now, I can see my reticence for what it was. And I think, possibly, it was easier to push them away than to let them see me change. It didn’t matter in the end. They never cared about all that. They just wanted to be there for me. And now, I’m letting them.
Better late than never, I suppose.
Alma is still giving me shit about Mal. She’s the only one to whom I told the truth about how Mal and I met, and, of course, she didn’t judge.
But she does like to tease me. Never Mal.
She’s made it perfectly clear that Mal is a precious gem who is never to be picked on.
And, well, I appreciate that more than I can say.
Benjamin was glad I pulled my head out of my ass, and he reminds me every week how lucky I am.
And how happy he is for me. And the four of us, Benji’s husband Gary included, get together every once in a while for dinner.
Often at my penthouse with me acting as chef, at Mal’s behest. He seems to love my cooking, and I have no problem offering up my services if it makes him happy.
Mal has spent a lot more time at the cat shelter, another thing that makes him happy, and with my continued encouragement, he’s been working with Keith on expanding Catty Commotions so they can house more adoptable pets.
He has a hard time accepting money and is frugal as ever, but it seems easier for him to acquiesce if he’s putting it to use elsewhere.
And what better cause than the cats he so loves?
He mentioned once that it’d be nice to open up another location, and I’m determined to help him bring that idea to fruition.
As for our cats, well…
“How do you think Stella is doing?” I ask. She’s getting up in age, but the elderly feline integrated into our little family with ease. And Mal assured me she has plenty of good years left.
Mal huffs a breath from next to me. “Probably ignoring the boys like usual while Alex spoils her with tuna.”
I smile. “Sounds about right.”
“And L.G. is running amuck, likely batting all your ties off the rack,” he says, referring to Little Gray, who has an official name now. As does his black-furred brother. “Whereas Clue is sleeping the day away on our bed. On your pillow, no doubt, because he loves you more than me.”
I chuckle. “That’s not true.”
“It’s definitely true,” Mal defends. “That’s okay, though. I get L.G. and Stella.”
“Whatever makes you happy, Mal,” I say with a smile.
“Oh really? So, if there was this cat that—”
“Mal, darling, let’s go swimming again. I need to wash off this sand,” Alma says, swooping in and unintentionally saving me from adopting another cat. Granted, if Mal wants a fourth cat, I know no convincing will be necessary. The man can have the world as far as I’m concerned.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, sitting up, his arm practically peeling off my own in the sticky heat. “You’ll be okay here, Hen?”
“Of course. You two go have fun.”
Mal gives me a quick peck before heading off into the water with my sister, and not a mere moment later, another presence bears down next to me.
I adjust my sunglasses. “Benjamin.”
“So how much longer do we need to spend out here relaxing?” my personal assistant asks.
I shake my head. “Not enjoying yourself on vacation?”
“I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen me, Henrik, but this alabaster complexion does not go well with UV rays. If I’m not careful, I’ll tan , and all my hard work will be ruined,” he laments.
“We can head back to the hotel soon. I’m pretty sure Mal has had enough of the sand,” I note.
“It looks like he’s enjoying himself, though,” Benji points out.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. He and Alma are both grinning, standing about waist-deep in the water.”
A smile tips my lips imagining Mal out in the waves. He may not enjoy the beach, but he’ll always remind me of coconut drinks, a fresh breeze, and the gentle rustling of palm fronds. But I think that’s more about the feeling he invokes in me than actual association to sand-laden locales.
He’s simply…refreshing.
“Ben…” I ask slowly, almost not finishing my thought but powering through at the last moment. “What does he look like?”
“Mal?” Benjamin asks in surprise.
I nod. I’ve never asked him outright, and although Benji has commented on Mal’s appearance from time to time, it wasn’t anything I didn’t already know. I don’t know why I’m asking now, six months into our relationship. It’s not like it matters. It never has.
But for some reason—maybe I simply want to add a few more brushstrokes to the image of the man who occupies my mind—I’m desperate to hear what Benjamin might tell me.
“You really want to know?” he asks.
“Please.”
Benjamin is quiet for a moment, as if he’s studying my boyfriend.
“He’s…beautiful, Henrik. Breathtaking. His hair is a hundred different shades of gold.
His eyes are deep blue like the water, and they’re kind and caring.
They crinkle at the corners often, even though he doesn’t have lines yet, the lucky bastard.
His bone structure could land him in a magazine, and he’s in his physical prime.
Fit and nearly flawless. He’s absolutely exquisite. ”
It’s much as I’d imagined, but it’s not what I wanted to know. I can’t figure out how to explain that to Benji, how to voice what I’m looking for, but his palm against my arm halts my frustrated line of thought.
My friend leans closer, voice soft. “But the way he looks at you? Oh, Henrik,” he sighs. “I’d give up every cent of my savings if it meant you could see that look in his eye. The way he lights up when you’re in his sights. The naked adoration in his gaze. That boy loves you—I can guarantee it.”
My pulse skips frantically. Erratically. Even as that space in my chest that’s grown to accommodate my love for Mal fills with warmth.
I have to blink my eyes against the moisture accumulating, and when that doesn’t work, I swipe it away. “I know,” I say a little raggedly. “I know he loves me.”
Benjamin hums. “Well, then. I think you already knew the answer to your question.”
I nod. I guess I did.
“And you, old friend, are obsessed,” Benji points out needlessly. “You fell head over ass in love when that boy walked into your life.”
“Yes,” I agree. Something about Mal was always different. I fought it at first, but not for long. I couldn’t stay away.
“Who would have thought, huh?” Benji says. “You called for another escort, and instead, you got Mal. Love at first…”
I raise an eyebrow when Benjamin doesn’t go on. “You were going to say ‘sight,’ weren’t you?”
He sighs. “Yes, I was.”
“It’s all right, Ben. I can see you didn’t mean it.”
“Henrik,” he groans.
“No, no, really. It’s fine. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“Okay, I’m going now. Shout if you need me.” He stands up, brushing some sand over me, surely intentionally.
“See you later,” I call out, chuckling when I hear his groan.
“Are you harassing your PA?” Mal asks, flopping down onto Benji’s vacated spot.
I sit up, needing to switch positions, and Mal rolls until his head is on my thigh. The cool water running out of his hair feels nice against my skin.
“I never harass Benjamin,” I reply.
“Mhm. Sure. I think his husband would say otherwise.”
I hum. “All washed off?”
“Best as it’s going to get before I can shower. Next time, let’s go somewhere other than the beach. I really hate it here.”
That has me laughing. “It’s a deal. Next time, you pick the place.”
“And when we get home—” He cuts off when his phone rings, and even though I love Mal’s frequent and easy use of the word home these days, his silence has me worried.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Great Oak,” he replies as the ringing ends. His mom’s care facility. “They’re going to call again. They always try twice before leaving a message.”
“Mal,” I say gently, running my thumb over his brow. “Would you let me take care of it?”
It’s not the first time I’ve asked. Mal’s continued connection with his mother does nothing but harm him.
And I’ve offered to take over, to take the matter of her palliative care off his hands.
But he hasn’t been ready yet. And I can understand.
That step is a big one. And even though I know Mal longs to be free from her metaphorical grasp, I can’t rush him.
But much to my surprise, as soon as Mal’s phone starts to ring a second time, he bumps it into my hand. “Please.”
“Yes?” I ask, surprised and so very happy.
“Yeah. I’m done. Please take care of it, Hen.”
I squeeze Mal’s arm, taking the phone with my other hand and swiping up to accept the call.
“Hello, this is Henrik Larsen speaking for Mr. Jones. I’d like to talk about removing Mr. Jones as Dorothy’s acting agent, changing the point of contact immediately, and adjusting the method of payment on file. ”
The woman sounds surprised. “Oh. Um. Okay, yes. Mr. Jones will have to revoke his power of attorney and—”
“Yes,” I interject, trailing my hand along Mal’s arm, feeling the sun-warmed skin below my fingertips. “Adam is fully prepared to sign all necessary documents.”
The woman in my ear discusses necessary steps to remove Mal as Dorothy’s caretaker—steps I’ve already researched—but my attention is on the man beside me. The one leaning on me, trusting me.
Is it possible for love to grow? To stretch endlessly like the horizon?
I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve only fallen more for Mal each day.
And now, knowing he’s ready to move on? I’m so proud of him.
So goddamn proud that he’s making the choice to prioritize himself because I know, for Mal, that has never been easy.
And I’m beyond honored that Mal is trusting me to take the weight from his shoulders.
That he’s confident enough in me—in us—to accept my help.
Mal still struggles. Of course he does. His yoga mat sees plenty of use, and he’s not completely free from his panic and PTSD.
But this, this is big. His mother has been a constant reminder of the pain Mal endured, still endures.
But now, with that final string being cut, maybe he can find some peace.
I hope so. I would do anything for Mal. Anything to make his life a little brighter. A little easier, even though he’s never asked for it. Anything to feel that smile on his face.
I’ve had a lot of successes in my life, a lot of accomplishments, but I never had someone to share it with.
Yet now…
I trail my hand to Mal’s chest, drawing a heart with my fingertip. Along skin, over irrevocably strong spirit. Mal turns his head, and his whispered, “I love you, too,” reaches my ears over the wind and the waves.
Now, I have someone I can share everything with.