I crack up laughing. “I thought you were married.”
Ryan scratches his head. “I was.”
“And your wife ate and got ready in twenty minutes?”
His face twists into confusion. “I…” He scrubs his hand up and down the scruff on the side of his face. “We didn’t really…” He sighs. “Look, I wasn’t a good husband, and we didn’t have a normal marriage. We didn’t hang out all that often. I’d been overseas for the majority of our marriage, and when I wasn’t over there, I was working.”
I nod my understanding. Not about their marriage not being normal, but about him being busy with work. When Ian told me he was going to be a SEAL, I did my research and learned how busy it would keep him. I knew the divorce and cheating rate for couples in the Navy was higher than others, but I was determined to make sure we weren’t a statistic. Unfortunately I never considered something as permanent as death would be the reason I wouldn’t spend my life with my husband.
“Well, just a word of advice for the future, women take at least an hour to get ready. More if we’re expected to look good.”
Ryan scans his eyes down my body, and my girly parts tighten in response. It’s been a long time since a man has checked me out, and it’s obvious he likes what he sees. Too bad nothing can ever happen between us. “You already look good,” he says, clearing his throat. “Let’s go.” He throws the blanket on me and walks out.
“Why are we up at the crack of dawn?” I ask, sitting at the table. I quickly rinsed off and threw on a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a tank, unsure where we’re going.
“We have about an hour drive south, and I want to get going before traffic hits.”
Ryan made eggs Benedict with hollandaise sauce this morning. I take one bite and release a moan in pleasure. If it’s possible to orgasm from eating delicious food, I would be having the orgasm of my life.
“My God, can I keep you?” I take another bite and moan again.
Ryan’s eyes bug out in fear and I laugh. “Calm down, I didn’t mean literally. You’re just such a good cook. I can’t cook for shit. Since my siblings and I are older, my parents tend to order in, or on special occasions, my dad will grill. But usually I live off pizza and cereal.”
“I like cooking,” Ryan says, taking a bite of his food. “My dad taught me how to cook, said a man should know how to take care of himself. If I’m home and have time, I like to cook. It’s healthier. I usually include ham, but I wasn’t sure your stance on animals after yesterday.”
I stab a potato with my fork and pop it into my mouth. “Oh, as much as I love the animals, I can’t live without meat. But I think I might have to skip fish for a while, just until I’ve had time to get over what happened.”
Ryan snorts a laugh and takes a sip of his orange juice. “Noted. No fish until you’ve recovered.”
“My mom knows I’m here.” Ryan is taking another sip of his OJ when I say this, and he spits it out, his eyes going wide. “Not with you. I don’t think my dad mentioned he gave you the key. And I asked her not to tell him where I am.”
“He would try to kill me if he knew we were here alone together.”
“Nah.” I wave him off, taking a bite of my yummy food. “I’m an adult. Plus, I’m mourning. It’s been a rough year. He would just be glad I’m finally attempting to move forward.”
“I’d rather not find out.”
“Well, hopefully my mom doesn’t tell him.” I pick up our empty plates and bring them to the sink. “So, where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Is it for you to relax or for me to move forward?”
“Both,” he says, his voice way too close to me. I look over my shoulder and find Ryan right behind me. He reaches around and places his cup in the sink, and I catch a whiff of his scent. All. Fucking. Man. None of that expensive cologne for him. Just bodywash and all him. I suppress a groan, rinsing the dishes and throwing them into the dishwasher. I seriously need to get a hold of myself. I know it’s just my body recognizing there’s a hot man in the vicinity, but it’s hard to ignore the way I find myself gravitating toward him and wanting to act on these feelings.
Since Ryan’s truck is bigger and more comfortable, he insists we take it to wherever it is we’re going. In exchange, I call dibs on being in control of the music. He isn’t thrilled but agrees. The ride is filled with me singing to my favorite jams while Ryan bitches that I have the worst taste in music known to man. It’s a blast. Since we’re up before the rest of California, the drive is smooth sailing, and an hour later, we’re parking at the Long Beach ferry terminal.
“Are we taking the ferry to Catalina?”
“Yep.”
I clap my hands together. “I’ve always wanted to go there.” I take Ryan’s hand in mine. “Let’s go.”
Once we board the ferry, we grab a couple lattes then make our way to the edge of the boat. A few minutes later, it leaves the terminal. The water is choppy, so the ferry sways. I lose my footing, and Ryan catches me before I fall to the ground.
“Careful there,” he murmurs, placing his arms on either side of me.
“Always the savior,” I joke.
My back is to his front, and even though it’s a tad chilly from the wind, his body blocks most of it, keeping me nice and warm. I allow myself to sag against his chest, reveling in how good he feels.
“Look over there.” He points to the left at the dolphins swimming by the ferry. It’s beautiful and magical. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone, taking a million pictures.
When they’re gone, I flip the camera around. “Say cheese.” I make sure Ryan and I are both in the picture. He glances down, his eyes searing into mine through the camera. “Smile.” I poke his side with my other hand, and a small smile appears. I snap the picture, then take a moment to look at it. I haven’t taken any pictures in the last year, the last one being when I was with Ian for Thanksgiving. My face is a tad slimmer from me not eating as much, and I have slight purple rings under my eyes from sleep deprivation, but my smile is real, and my cheeks are pink. For the first time in a long time, I’m genuinely happy.
Once we arrive, we grab a golf cart and take it for a ride to explore the island. Ryan drives with one hand, holding mine with the other. I don’t know when it happened, that holding hands became the norm for us, but I like it—his strong hand in mine.
We eat lunch looking out at the marina and afterward, we walk along Crescent Street, window shopping.
“This is so pretty.” I point to a beautiful shell necklace. I’ve never seen anything like it. “The colors are so vibrant. It reminds me of happiness.” It reflects how I feel.
“You should get it.”
“Eh… Maybe I’ll come back.” I go to set it down, but Ryan takes it from me and proceeds to the register.
“What are you doing?”
Without answering me, he has the cashier ring him up. Once he’s paid, he says, “Turn around.”
I do as he says, and he brushes my hair to the side. He puts the necklace on me and clasps it in the back. I find a mirror so I can admire the necklace. When my eyes land on the mirror, my heart skips a beat. The necklace is beautiful, but that’s not what has my attention. It’s the way Ryan and I look together. His pout to my smile. His roughness to my softness. I’m tiny and he’s huge. But somehow I can imagine it—Ryan and me. I swallow thickly and briefly close my eyes, pushing the thought to the side.