"There's something about the ocean …" Easton said, and I nodded in agreement; he didn't even have to finish his thought.
We perused the menus in comfortable silence, and once I decided that I wanted the clam chowder and salad, I put my menu down to hear the conversations from the other tables. I heard three different languages of conversation as well as many others spoken in my own native tongue. I loved that about vacation destinations. There were people from all walks of life, all parts of the world, and yet we somehow ended up in the same place.
"Coconut crunchy shrimp or the prime rib?" Easton asked after I told him what I was ordering. He usually followed my lead but apparently he needed more sustenance than a soup and salad could give him.
In answer to his question, I pointed a finger toward the window.
"We're right next to the ocean. I think you have to go with the seafood," I said.
Easton nodded before putting down his own menu, and immediately our waiter came to take our order.
Two very full stomachs later, we left the restaurant and walked back down the pier and then back along the main street.
We talked about everything and nothing. Easton's videos, his fans, his new venture. My athletes, our friends, and even the weather. But the one thing we didn't touch on was his wedding ... our future.
I didn't know if he sensed my hesitation about the subject or if he was just sick of thinking and breathing wedding plans, the way he had for the past month. I thought it was probably the latter. Most men didn’t love planning a wedding as much as the bride, and it made sense he would need a break.
Oh how I wished all I needed was a break and life would be the same once again. If the wedding happened, the end of this trip would mark the end of an era for me. I'd have to find a whole new normal, one without Easton there every day. Sure, we'd stay friends and I'd see him on Taco Tuesdays and hopefully a few times in between. But we would no longer be living together; I would no longer be his number one girl. Things would be fine, just different. Or at least that was the lie I was telling myself.
"You're sure quiet," Easton said as he nudged my shoulder with his arm. "Penny for your thoughts?"
Should I tell him the truth? Was this my moment to reveal to him I didn't want him to get married? I loved him. I needed him. Priscilla was only using him, so he had to choose me?
But I looked up into his beautiful green eyes that were a little more gray today and gave him a wistful smile. "Just thinking about how much I love spending time with you. And how different things are going to be after."
There. That was a big part of the truth and all I felt I should reveal for the time being.
"They won't be that different," Easton said as he placed his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in a little tighter.
"We won't be living together," I said from my favorite spot in the world. Couldn't he see the crook of his arm was made just for me?
"That couldn't have lasted forever, anyway. Haven't you been talking about buying a house? Would you have really wanted me to move with you?" Easton asked.
My answer was a resounding yes. But evidently his wasn't.
"It's not like you'll be single for much longer, Jos. You are going to find a man who is everything you've dreamed of. He'll whisk you off your feet, and I'll hate him for taking my spot in your life," Easton laughed. But I felt nothing humorous in the situation. Because all of that had already happened, except for the last part. Easton couldn't hate himself. "You'll share your future house with him, and I'll be funny Uncle Easton to all of your kids."
How could he talk about my kids with another man so nonchalantly? The idea of Easton procreating with Priscilla ... great, I was now going to lose my lunch. But I had to say something to lighten the mood. I couldn't mourn the loss of Easton right then. Besides, I still had a few days to get him to see me as his perfect choice. Man, this roller coaster of emotions might well kill me.
"You mean funny looking," I tried to say with as much cheer as I could muster. It was our running joke. Easton thought he was hilarious, and I'd tease him about his face being the funniest thing about him. But the joke was on me because I knew his face wasn't funny in the least. It was beautiful.
Easton laughed and squeezed me, making my entire body heat up. Why was my body so out of sync with my mind?
"I know you hate change, Jos. But not much will change. At least for now. I might live in a different place, but I'll be in Saratoga more than I ever have before, so we'll see each other tons. And you'll always be my number one girl," Easton said.
Then he pointed to a sign. "Madame Tussauds. We have to, right?" he said as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell on me. I nodded, but my thoughts were still on his last statement. How could I be his number one girl if he was getting married? Was that like a brotherly thing? But no brother would tell his sister she'd still be number one after he was married, right? My brothers hadn't. So what did that mean? Did he want me? Was it a plea for me to stop him from making a mistake? Or was it his way of placating me because he knew I was sad? I was literally going to drive myself crazy.
My motto came to mind, and I knew I had to drop my line of thought. There was no enjoyment in going insane. And if I was going to wait until the end of the trip to tell Easton the truth, I also had to wait to get answers to my questions.
Easton paid for our tickets over my protests, the same way he'd paid for lunch. So much for me treating him on this trip. I had a feeling when we had to pay at the parking garage, he'd take that bill as well.
"You already paid for our flights and hotel. Let me do this for you, please?" Easton asked as his eyes scrunched up above his smile, and I couldn't say no. I could never say no to an Easton please.
Easton took my hand, and we were off the moment we got through the doors. Easton loved to fly through life, and the speed at which we took Madame Tussauds was no exception. He already knew the celebrity wax figures he and I would both want to stop at, and only after selfies with Michael Jackson, Beyoncé, Abraham Lincoln, Steph Curry, and Joe Montana did we emerge from the museum an hour later.
"Do you think we can fool Holly into thinking we actually met any of these celebrities?" Easton asked as he looked through his camera roll on his phone. Holly was well known in our group for being a bit of a ditz. She was brilliant when it came to book smarts, she'd tutored all of us at one point during college, but sometimes that didn't translate into common sense.
"Probably not Abraham Lincoln," I said with a grin, and Easton smiled back at me.
He paused, his hand still holding mine from dragging me through the museum at such a rapid rate, and our eyes met. The gray flecks in his eyes were easy to see at this close of a proximity, and my mouth went dry. There was an intensity in Easton's gaze that I'd never seen, causing my hands to sweat and my stomach to flip.
I swore Easton began to bend when someone said from the window of a car, "Hey, Easton Price! I love your videos!"
The man who gave his accolades passed by us so quickly, I didn't even get to see him. But the damage had been done. Easton straightened and dropped my hand, opting for an arm around my shoulders again.
And, once again, just like that the moment was gone.