chapter twenty-six
RILEY
Each day with Riles gets better and better, yesterday especially.
Being with her, around her, inside her, fills a void I did and didn’t know needed filling.
After ending it with Krystal, I somewhat enjoyed the single life and was enlightened to discover who I am, not as a husband but as me.
I learned my strength and resilience. Embraced independence and solitude.
If I wanted to be on my own, I could. But… I don’t. I want to share my life with someone else. Laugh with them, eat with them, sleep with them. I want to watch the sun go down with someone in my arms, someone who appreciates me and what we share. And I want that someone to be Riles.
Our vacation is coming to an end though, and I’m not na?ve enough to believe what we have now, here, on this cruise, will be the same once we return home. She’s a city girl; I’m a country boy. She’s ambitious and lives to work; I work to live.
Our livelihoods are chalk and cheese.
If I were a poetic fucker, I’d say my heart sings when we’re together, that she’s the missing piece to make it whole again. But I’m not poetic. I am a realist. And what Riles and I have together is as real as I’ve ever known, chalk and cheese be damned.
When we returned to Southampton the night before, she was so exhausted that she fell asleep on the train.
I’d been tempted to carry her back to the ship, but she no doubt would’ve ripped me a new one when she realized what I’d done, so waking her was the safest option, this time without poking something in her ear.
I expected we’d grab a bite to eat, then call it a night, but she insisted on working until the early hours of the morning.
While I appreciate and respect her ethics and dedication to her career, and how she strives for excellence and success at all costs, I’ve seen firsthand what that does to a person.
I’ve experienced the fallout, and I don’t want to experience that again.
Life is all about balance. Perfectly weighed scales. It’s too short to have it tipped one way and one way only.
“So, I was thinking,” Riles says, a yawn billowing from her mouth.
“When we get back from Stonehenge, and after we’ve been to that car museum you wanted to go to” —she stretches her face, forcing her eyelids apart—“if you’re still interested, we can visit the Titanic exhibit at the SeaCity Museum as well. ”
I bury my frustration at how tired she is after working her ass off on her vacation. “Sure. Whatever you want to do.”
“Perfect!” She yawns again and snuggles into my side, but then sits upright again, points out of the bus window, and blurts, “We’re here. There it is!”
I lean over her for a better look, not particularly impressed. They’re just rocks in a field.
“Cool,” I say, sitting back.
“Cool?” She gives me one of her Are you insane? looks.
I give her one back but smirk.
“This place is more than just cool. It’s mystical. Spiritual. Magical.”
The bus continues driving for a short distance before it pulls to a stop outside a visitor information center, where we exit into the parking lot.
“I thought they didn’t know why it was here or who built it?” I prompt, fixing my Philly’s cap on my head.
“They don’t. That’s why it’s mystical and mysterious.” Riles lifts her hair from the back of her neck and secures it in a low clump. “They do know it was a burial site though, and its positioning links it to the summer and winter solstices.”
I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure I’ll find out by the time we leave.
“Do you want to walk to the site or catch the shuttle bus?” she asks.
“I don’t mind.”
Riles pulls her sun hat out of her bag and sets it on her head. “Let’s walk. Our tour guide said it takes roughly thirty minutes but that it’s an easy walk through those fields.”
Smiling, she hikes her bag higher on her shoulder and holds out her hand. I happily take it in mine, and we follow the path to the first field, closing a gate behind us as instructed by a sign.
“Wait!” Riles stops. “There are cows in here.”
I spot a few grazing up ahead. “Yep.”
“Do you think it’s safe?”
I chuckle. “Cows aren’t bears, Riles.”
“I know that, but they’re big and—”
“Have you never been close to a cow before?”
“No. We don’t exactly keep them as pets in Manhattan.”
“You’ll be fine,” I say, tugging her along, when her cell phone beeps within her bag.
She stops and pulls it out. “Give me a second. I need to check my email. It might be Georgia.”
Inhaling deeply, I let go of her hand and huff out a breath as she scrolls her screen, her face scrunching as she reads.
“Damn it.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” She shoves her cell back into her bag, clasps my hand, and keeps walking, her pace less tentative than before.
“In a hurry, are we?”
“No. It’s just… hot, and I don’t want the cows to bother us.”
“I think it’s the other way around. Us being here bothers them.”
“We should’ve just caught the shuttle bus,” she mutters.
Narrowing my eyes, I suspect her agitation has something to do with her boss, but I bite my tongue, knowing if I suggest such a thing, she’ll more than likely direct that agitation at me. Plus, I’d rather distract her from what she just read and bring her attention back to why we’re here.
“Have you always wanted to come to Stonehenge?” I ask.
“No, not really.” Her smile is crooked. “I mean, yes. I’ve always wanted to travel and see the world, but it was never a priority. Only a dream.”
I splay my arm out, emphasizing where we are. “It’s no longer a dream, Riles. You’re here.”
“I know,” she deadpans.
“So live in the moment. Enjoy it.”
“I am enjoying it.”
We exit the field and step onto a path, the Stone Age relics peculiar among the desolate landscape, yet also strangely fitting.
“I thought they’d be bigger,” she says as she steps up to an information plaque.
I read the description. “Given when they were constructed, I’d say they’re big enough.”
“You’re right.” She scratches her head. “How on earth were they moved back then?”
“Isn’t that one of the mysteries?”
“Yeah. There are, of course, assumptions based on archaeological findings, but they really don’t know for sur—” Her cell beeps again, interrupting her cute history lesson, and she grumbles.
I side-eye her. “Do I even need to ask who that is?”
“No. It’s Georgia.”
“And…?”
“Before I went to bed last night, I sent her two of the manuscripts she wanted me to work through, and instead of thanking me, she’s now asking where the other two are. The thing is, when she originally gave me the time off, she requested that I only do two. Not four.”
“So, ignore her.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can. You just switch your cell off.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not,” she says, moving along to the next plaque.
“So she’s expecting you to complete another two manuscripts in… what? Two days?” I ask, following her.
“Yes.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know.”
Wanting to shake some sense into her for her own good, I begrudgingly let it go instead. It’s not my place to do so, and I’d rather enjoy our time here than make it about her pesky employer.
We complete a full circle of the stones, and at first, things are good, until Riles pauses less frequently to read the plaques, her excitement and interest appearing to have vanished. It pisses me off; she wanted to come here and see this, and now she’s preoccupied.
“Are you done here?” she asks, stopping to take a drink from her water bottle before offering it to me.
I am done, but I’m more concerned about whether she’s truly done or not.
Taking a swig, I glance at my watch. “Yeah. But the tour bus doesn’t leave for another hour.”
She rests her hands on her hips and huffs. “I know.”
“So we can stay here a bit long—”
“No. Let’s catch the shuttle bus back to the visitor center. By the time we’ve had a quick look around, the bus will be ready to leave.” She shoves her bottle back into her bag and marches for the parking lot.
I clench my fist and follow behind her, and after waiting fifteen minutes in line to board the shuttle, Riles constantly scrolling her cell, we arrive back at the visitor center, the air-conditioned building tempering my heated blood.
“Do you want to check out the exhibit?” I ask.
She takes a seat on an egg chair, staring intently at her cell when it rings. “Peanut butter.”
Her stupid saying makes me smile until she fumbles with the cell and quickly shoves it to her ear.
“Georgia! Hi, how are y—” She winces, her cheeks blooming red, her brow furrowing. “Yes, I know, but—” Riles holds up one finger to me, indicating she won’t be long before she shoots to her feet, covers her free ear with her other hand, and turns her back on me, pacing by the window.
I stay within earshot, listening as she tries to get a word in but is cut off every time until she’s just answering with, “Yes. I understand. Yes.”
Anger crawls the surface of my skin. We only have thirty minutes before we leave, and at the rate Riles is going, she’ll miss out on the rest of the tour.
Fuming, I stride up to her, snatch her phone, reject the call, and hand it back.
“Riley! What—” Her eyes widen as she stares at the screen. “No! No, no, no! You just hung up on her.”
“I did.”
She grips her hair. “Why?”
“Because she’s taken up too much of your time already.”
“You can’t just do that,” she hisses, her fists clenched by her side, knuckles white. “You have no right.”
I reach for her hand. “Riles—”
“Don’t.” She recoils. “I need to call her back. Now!”
“You don’t need to call her back. You’re on vacation!”
“This is none of your business!”
“I’m here, aren’t I? And you’re here with me. So yeah, it is my business.”
Her fingertips of one hand massage her temple as her other thumb manically taps and moves about the screen of her phone. “Just… Just go outside to the exhibit without me. I’ll catch up when I’m done.”
“But you wanted to see the exhibit, and you won’t have enough time if you’re stuck talking to her.”