We stop at a red light before I have to turn onto the interstate toward Sunrise Bay. “I don’t care about any of that.”
“I just thought you should know in case the time comes—”
“When,” I clarify.
She giggles into her hand. Once again, no hand in the air telling me no. Another good sign.
“Well, don’t expect to see the same woman. There are stretch marks and I’m not nearly as thin.” Her hands press to her stomach and she inhales a deep breath.
I cover her hands with one of mine. “I’m positive it’s as beautiful as always.”
A soft smile lands on her lips, but I’m not sure she believes me. In a way, I understand where she’s coming from. I’ve seen my body change now that I’m not working out with trainers and running across the pitch nonstop. But I wish she could see herself through my eyes.
“I’m not the cut guy you used to drool over.”
She huffs. “Drool? Me?” She points at herself.
The light turns green, so I turn onto the interstate. “Come on. You loved my body as much as I love yours.”
When I came back from Scotland to play in the MLS, her gaze ate me up all the time she saw me without a shirt. I wasn’t blind. I never minded her ogling my body, but I have the same insecurities she has. I’m still fit and muscular, but my abs aren’t nearly as well-defined as they once were. My days of ten percent body fat are gone.
“Maybe, but drooling is kind of an exaggeration.”
I glance toward her, and she turns to look out the window.
“So we’re both insecure about our bodies… are we thinking lights off tonight?”
Another huff as if she’s annoyed by my forwardness, but not actually putting me in my place. “You’re way too much tonight.”
She likes it though. She always used to like it when I talked like that. Of course it used to be a lot dirtier, but I don’t want to push her too far.
Getting off the interstate, I drive into Sunrise Bay and pull in where the GPS on my phone tells me to. It’s the parking lot of a bed-and-breakfast.
“You know I didn’t make this reservation, right?” Parking the minivan, I pull out my phone to double-check, and yeah, it’s the same address the mystery number texted me.
“I know, I wasn’t exactly turning you down, but this is a big assumption,” she says from the passenger seat, staring at the inn sign the same way I am.
I scan the area because I have to be missing something. Sure enough, there’s a small restaurant attached to the north side of the building. I point. “There. A restaurant.”
I exit the van and walk around to open up her door. We walk across the parking lot to the door for the restaurant called Seafins. Inside, the space has huge windows that showcase the glittering bay and the mountains visible in the distance.
“It’s gorgeous.” Sedona’s hand falls on her heart. “How did I never know this was here?”
“I have no idea.” I’m just as speechless from the view, and that’s saying something when you’ve spent so much time in Alaska.
The hostess comes over with a wide smile that makes me think she knows who we are before I even give her my name. Grabbing two leather-bound menus, she walks us to a table right beside the window. We thank her and sit, barely able to take our eyes off the view.
A waiter greets us before we have a chance to look at the menu. “Welcome to Seafins. Can I get you anything to drink?”
Both the waiter and I defer to Sedona.
“A glass of…” Her eyes meet mine with a guilty look. “Just a Diet Coke.”
“She’ll have a glass of pinot noir,” I correct because it’s always been her drink of choice at a fancy restaurant. She gets pinot noir, and I’d get whiskey on ice.
“No. I haven’t had caffeine in so long. I want the Diet Coke.”
I stare at her long and hard, but she doesn’t budge. Blowing out a breath, I look at the waiter, who surely doesn’t understand our push and pull. “I’ll have a Diet Coke as well.”
The waiter walks away, and Sedona busies herself with taking her silverware out of the cloth napkin and laying it over her lap.
“Sedona?”
She peeks up at me and shakes her head.
“You know you can order whatever you want.”
“No. I’m not doing that. I’m not going to sit here and drink in front of you.” She leans back and crosses her legs under the table.
“You can. I’m good. I’ve been around people drinking since rehab. I’m not going to—”
She puts up her hand. “Jamison, I love you, I always have, and I’m not going to sit here and enjoy something that might be tempting for you. It’d be like if I were on a diet and you decided to sit in front of me and eat a chocolate cake.”
I chuckle. “I think you mean if I was eating a carton of ice cream.”
“True. A carton of cookies ‘n cream ice cream.”
“Honestly though, I’m good with you drinking. If we’re going to move forward, which I hope we are, you can’t just refuse to drink when I’m around. That’s no life for you. Yer not the one with the problem. I am.”
“You can’t force me to drink.”
The waiter interrupts us, placing the sodas on the table. “Do you know what you’d like to eat?”
“Can we have a minute?” I ask.
The waiter nods and heads over to the other tables he’s responsible for.
Sedona picks up the menu. “What looks good? I think I’m going to have the tilapia.”
“I’m not gonna drop this. This is a thorn in the side for us moving forward, and I’d really like to remove it.” I put down my menu, but she keeps reading hers.
“You have to pick two sides. Want to share?” She tips her menu down. “I mean, is that weird since we’re not really a couple—” I steal her menu. “Jamison!” she whisper-shouts.
“We’re not going to ignore this issue. We can’t.”
Her shoulders sink. “Can we please just order?”
This isn’t the Sedona I know. She doesn’t ignore a problem, hoping it will go away on its own. She’s the type who organizes and cleans her junk drawer until every item has a spot.
“We can’t until we talk this over.”
“I get it, okay? But I don’t see what the big deal is that I want to support you and not drink.” She crosses her arms.
“I appreciate it, and that’s not what I’m saying. It’s the fact you don’t want to talk about it.”
She leans forward. “What exactly is it?”
“My addiction. My alcoholism.”
She tears her gaze from mine and chews on the inside of her lip. The waiter starts to approach, but I put up my hand, and he circles back around to the bar area.
“It’s not easy, okay? It’s the one thing you chose over me,” she says.
“It was never a choice.”
She nods a few times as though that makes sense. “But it felt like it. Like you chose alcohol over us.”
A tear slips down her cheek. Fuck me. How did I not see this?
I hold my open palm out for her hand. She glances at it and her hand slowly meets mine. I run my thumb over her knuckles. “My addiction had a power over me that it doesn’t anymore. I’d never willingly pick anything over you and Palmer. You have to believe me.”