Chapter 2 #2
Ani nodded and added, “Or you meet someone, and you decide to get married, but for whatever reasons, something feels off. And that feeling keeps eating away at you. Except in my case, I kept pushing those feelings away until it was almost too late.” She gave a thoughtful pause.
“I don’t know what that must feel like—to love someone so much that it rips you apart to lose them. ”
“Yeah.” I looked out over the water. “It would have been our fifth anniversary this week. Liv made me promise to take this trip. Somehow, she knew I’d try to work myself to death after she was gone.”
“We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”
“No—I—it’s okay.” I blew out a held-in breath.
“I haven’t talked about Liv to anyone—I mean, after a certain point, you start to feel like you’re dragging people down, taking advantage of your friendships.
You’re afraid that everyone will label you as a downer and avoid you, so you don’t talk about it.
And everyone is sympathetic, but no one can really know what you’re going through.
So you keep it to yourself and keep going.
But it’s felt really good to say her name. ”
Ani smiled. “Thanks for telling me all this, Adam. It’s made me feel less alone. I’m eternally grateful for your kindness.”
That pleased me far more than I could admit. “I have an idea. Let’s explore and see things, get moving. That way we don’t think about anything. That is—if you stay.”
She gave a little smile. “I’ll stay—for today. One day at a time, right?”
“Right.” I nearly fist-pumped. I had her for one day, and that felt thrilling. Honestly, I needed for us to get busy ASAP. Because despite all my good intentions and my rotten mental state, I found myself thinking about her.
Ani
On Tuesday, I said I’d stay until Wednesday, and on Wednesday, until Thursday.
Then, in the blink of an eye, it was Thursday.
By then we’d explored all the beaches and Chalk Sound National Park.
We’d seen the underwater coral gardens at Bight Reef and taken an adorable Potcake dog for a walk at Potcake Place K9 Rescue.
We ate at least two meals a day. I was starting to see the light of day. And I was feeling stronger.
We’d both booked flights to return home on Friday, which seemed reasonable if daunting. Except there was one problem—I was starting to really like Adam.
Which may have been turning into a bigger issue.
I consciously tried not to look directly at him, because there were these strange moments when we just…
connected. When our gazes would snag, and it was hard to look away.
I know, I know, it was simply…hormones. Attraction, which I was pretty shocked to feel in my current state.
I knew not to trust it, and did my best to steer clear of it.
Maybe our friendship was so raw and honest because I didn’t have the bandwidth for pretending.
Whatever I felt, I said. I didn’t have the strength to hold back or cover anything up.
While we didn’t talk about my wedding fiasco at length, Adam accepted my many silences, my sudden wanting to be alone, and my need to sleep like the dead.
Once, he got emotional when we visited Grand Turk Lighthouse because he said Liv had described that iconic spot.
In general, I felt that we could just be ourselves.
The self that he got was probably close to me at my worst, but somehow, he made me feel okay with that.
By Thursday evening, I was also realizing that it would soon be time to say goodbye.
“We’ve seen a lot these past few days.” We’d hung out all day on Grace Bay Beach, and then drove to Providenciales for the iconic Thursday Fish Fry, which featured local food, music, and dance performances. It had been a feast of the colorful local culture.
And here I never thought I’d leave my room. I’d forced myself to get up and go each day because going was my lifeline. For that, I’d be eternally grateful to him.
“Today you ate breakfast, lunch, and supper.” He seemed very pleased with himself. And his nose was a little sunburnt, which was kind of cute. He looked healthy and happy and not weighted down with his cares, which I felt I’d had some influence on.
“I’m going to write your aunts and tell them you’re a natural auntie too,” I said. “A caretaker.”
“Ha. Maybe.”
“Well, you’ve made sure I’ve eaten and showered and kept me busy so I didn’t think about things. I’m starting to actually think I can handle going back now.”
Our eyes met, and I felt a sudden flush of heat.
Improbable as it was with me being such a mess of emotion, I became aware that we were on a beautiful island with a gentle breeze and a full moon.
He was nice and funny, and I loved his kind brown eyes.
I also knew that it was past time to say goodnight.
I would not want to become swept away by the magical beauty of this place. To use it—and him—to forget what was really going on in my life.
Yet being with him these past few days had saved me—from loneliness, from despair, from myself.
I was at a sudden loss for words because I was thinking awkward things.
We’d chosen not to say things like, “What do you want to do tomorrow?” We’d sort of made it a rule to live in the moment, not look too far ahead or too far behind.
Except that I was noticing the way he walked, long-legged strides, confidently.
I was noticing how big his shoulders were, how lean his waist was.
He was naturally curious. He kept up with current events.
He read books. We sometimes ran out of things to say, but the silence was never awkward.
In other words, I was liking him way too much. But I was wise enough to know that anything I was feeling couldn’t be trusted.
“I’m going to say good night,” I said.
“Good night.” He made a theatrical bow with accompanying hand motions. Then he reached down and lifted my hand. Held it. Brought it to his lips and gave me a quick peck. “We had fun today, Ani Green.”
“Imagine that.” Despite his joking manner, heat flushed through me.
I felt alive, like I wasn’t dead. Which was a miracle.
Even the past six months with Tyler, I’d done a lot of faking, a lot of trying, a lot of hoping things would get better.
Somehow, these days away had made me feel like there was hope for me to move forward, away from this terrible time.
Adam was staring at me. Our gazes met and held again.
The firm but gentle grip of his hand, the soft touch of his lips on my skin; it all awakened something deep inside of me.
My heart began a slow knock in my chest that kept accelerating.
I knew what was happening. I couldn’t believe what was happening.
But the sensible part of me had to stop it.
My hand was tingling from where he kissed it. “I-I don’t do one-night stands,” I blurted, and immediately wondered if I was completely off base. Even if I was, I had to let him know how I felt.
He looked around. “Did…did someone ask you to have one?”
“No! I mean, I’m sorry.” I could feel my cheeks heat up. “I must be getting my balance back because it seems that I just now noticed that you’re really hot.”
That was a mistake. Why hadn’t I toned it down, said cute or attractive or good-looking? At least I hadn’t said perfect, which he totally was, with those warm brown eyes and that strong jaw and that I-need-to-shave-twice-a-day five-o’clock shadow thing going on.
“You’re beautiful,” he said with a slightly crooked smile that was very endearing, “even if it was questionable whether or not there were live birds involved in your hairstyle the other day.” I rolled my eyes at that. “I don’t either,” he added, “have one-night stands, that is.”
“I’m in no condition to do something I’d regret. I mean, I can barely deal with putting one foot in front of the other. I can’t add another bad decision on top of everything else I regret.” Although it was questionable if I could ever regret him.
“Agreed,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll say goodbye before we catch our planes.”
“Okay,” I said, pulling my keycard out of my purse. “Thanks for walking me back. The day was fun.” I opened my door and turned to him. “Can you believe I just said that? ‘It was fun.’”
“It was fun. Everything these past few days was fun.” He paused, his gaze controlled and neutral. “Good night.”
Maybe it was staring in at my bungalow and suddenly feeling so heartbreakingly alone. Or the fear of returning to reality, only a day away.
Or maybe it was the feelings that had been awakened out of nowhere that kept tugging on me like the tide. Or the warm, salt-tinged breeze. Impulsively, I turned and grabbed his hand. “Don’t go.”
He took a sharp intake of breath. He stared at where I clasped his hand, then up at me, his eyes full of struggle.
My pulse pounded out a quick, steady thrum. My hand was still tingling. Heck, all of me was.
“I’m sorry.” I released his hand. “I—I guess I’m a little afraid of being alone. You know, saying goodbye. You were a nice person to lean on these past few days. I guess reality is just hitting me again.” I turned back to my door to go in.
This time, he grabbed my hand. With a gentle tug, he pulled me to him.
I landed in his arms, staring up at him, his arms wrapping around me.
We were so close, I could see the way his Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed.
The arch of his brow, the set line of his jaw.
A warm breeze teased us, ruffling his hair.
The moonlight emphasized the heat in his eyes.
He let go of my waist and said in a throaty voice, “Ani, I think you’re really fun and really special. But I don’t want—I don’t think this is a good idea. We’re both too—”