by Nikki Ash
“Laura is pregnant,” he finally says. “A surprise, but a pleasant one. She and her fiancé are going to move the wedding up so they’re married before the baby comes.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Of course.”
“And this is Laura… your ex-wife?”
“Yes,” he confirms, taking another drink of his beer.
“Why did you two divorce?”
Ryan
“Why did you two divorce?”
I think for a moment how to answer that question. When I told my parents we were getting a divorce and that I was giving her the house, they didn’t question me. I think deep down they knew this day would eventually come. It was the reason my dad insisted on a prenup.
“I married my best friend,” I tell her honestly, which has her looking at me like I’m crazy. “But unlike most people who say that but really mean they married the love of their life, she really was just my friend. She had needs I couldn’t meet.” She wanted a life I couldn’t envision ever having.
Micaela raises one brow. “Ohhh.” She nods slowly, her heart-shaped lips forming a perfect, pouty circle, and my dick takes over my brain as I imagine what it would be like to have those lips wrapped around my shaft.
“Oh, what?” I choke out, trying to shake off the vision.
“You suck in bed,” she deadpans. “They have tutorials for everything on YouTube, you know. Including how to meet a woman’s needs.” She cracks a smile, telling me she’s kidding, but my vision of her sucking my dick turns into me taking her to bed and showing her over and over again that I more than know how to meet a woman’s needs. Fuck, I can’t go there. She’s mourning the loss of her husband. She’s twenty. A family friend…
I grab the towel from behind me and throw it at her, smacking her in the face. “Not like that, perv.” Although, she isn’t far off. The sex, when we would actually have it, was similar to our marriage: forced and awkward. I always made sure she was taken care of, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted intimacy, to feel cherished and loved…
“What needs then?”
“Marital shit. Like, she wanted to start a family.” And I wasn’t about to place roots in a failing marriage—hell, if I’m honest, I don’t think it was ever succeeding. I grew up in a household with two people who not only were madly in love with each other, but loved being parents. My dad chose to be a stay-at-home dad. I couldn’t even stand being home for more than a day before I was itching to leave again.
“You didn’t want that?”
“I wasn’t capable…”
“You’re not helping your case here,” she says with a soft giggle that has me wanting to throw her over my shoulder and take her to bed.
“Physically, I’m capable. But mentally…” I clear my throat. “She wanted a real marriage, a relationship, the family, a husband… But the only things I could give her was my last name, a roof over her head, and money to make sure she was living comfortably.” I sigh, hating that the most important role a man can take on is the one I sucked at. “I’m good at my job. Fixing things, making them right.”
“Saving people.”
“I guess…” I take a sip of my beer. “In my job, when there’s a problem, you fix it. When we were younger, and Laura was hurting, I fixed it. But she needed more than to just be fixed. She needed a husband, and I wasn’t so good at that.”
Micaela eyes me for a moment, all joking put aside, and I avert my gaze, hating how vulnerable I feel. I’m not good at this talking shit, but she makes me want to actually talk. I’ve said more to her today than I’ve probably said to Laura in all our years of marriage.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” she begins, but I cut her off. She has nothing to be sorry about.
“No.” I wave her off. “It’s why I’m here. I’m not good at staying still in one place for long. It’s hard to make a marriage work when one of the people in the marriage is never home.”
“So, why didn’t you stay? Try to make it work?”
“The truth?” I look her dead in the eyes, and she nods. “I didn’t want to. I mean, I did… but I didn’t. I tried to want it, but deep down, I couldn’t. Every time I would return home I was itching to leave again. My skin would literally crawl.”
“Leave her, or just leave in general?”
“In a marriage, aren’t they one and the same?”
“Maybe… I don’t know,” she admits softly. “I was only married for seven months, and during that time I only saw him a few times.”
“I don’t know either. I see what my parents have and I want that, but when I was with Laura, I didn’t feel it. I felt restless, and the idea of starting a family… She deserved to have all that. So, I’m happy she finally has it all and with a man who will be by her side.”
“Ian and I never discussed kids. It wasn’t part of our five-year plan.” She stares toward the water, her eyes slightly glossing over. “I don’t even know if he wanted kids. Guess it doesn’t matter now.”
“What do you want?”
She sits up and throws her legs over the side of the lounge chair. “I want to curl up in bed and watch some YOU on Netflix.” She pats my leg. “I’m off to bed. Thank you for today.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. “For what it’s worth, I think you would make a great husband. I think you just have to find the woman you’re meant to be with.”
As she walks away, thoughts of the day Laura asked for a divorce resurface. “One day you’re going to fall in love and you won’t want to run away. You’ll want to be with the woman you love. But first, you have to stop running so you can meet her.”
I try—and fail—to ignore the fact that today was the first day in years where I didn’t feel the need to run.
Micaela
“Up and at ’em,” a deep voice says, waking me from my slumber.
I release an annoyed growl and turn over, so the light shining in from the open door disappears, and pull the blanket up to my head to cover my face.
“Time to get up.”
“Go away,” I groan.
There’s a slight tug on my blanket, so I fist it tighter, but Ryan’s too strong, and he easily rips the blanket from my body, dragging it off the bed.
“It’s cold,” I whine.
“That’s because you turn the air down to arctic temps before you go to bed.”
“Which is why I need my blanket,” I argue, my eyes still closed and my hand blindly waving in the air, trying to grab the blanket back. “Please.”
“Nope, breakfast is ready. We have plans today.”
I open one eye, my interest piqued. “Plans?”
Ryan smirks. “Come eat, so we can get going. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”
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.
“What do you think?” he prompts, forcing me to crack my eyes open.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It looks perfect on you.”
I turn around to face him. “Thank you.” On my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek, only he doesn’t realize what I’m doing and he moves slightly. My lips land on the corner of his mouth, his light stubble tickling my flesh.
“We better get moving,” he says, clearing this throat and backing away.
I want to pull him back to me and kiss him, get lost in him, but I don’t. Instead, I plaster on a smile and say, “Where to next?”
After we finish our window shopping, we have an amazing seafood lunch (yes, I gave in to eating the poor fish. I’m a horrible person) and then stop to have some ice cream, before we head back to the ferry.
“Where are we going next?” I ask, once we disembark.
Ryan laughs. “Who said anything is next?”
I tilt my head to the side and plant my hand on my hip, popping it out slightly.
“It’s a surprise.”
“I’m starting to really love surprises.”
An hour later, we’re pulling up to the University of San Diego. I’ve never been here in person. The few times I visited Ian, we stayed at the hotel or he showed me around his base.
The campus is beyond gorgeous and massive, way bigger than my university back home. My heart pounds against my chest at the idea of going here. Of following my dreams. It’s one thing to move forward, but to actually see what my future could look like is a whole other story. Which is exactly why I bet Ryan brought me here.
He finds visitor parking and jumps out to pay the meter. I should probably get out, but I’m stuck in my seat. Scared to actually face this dream alone. But then Ryan opens the door, and with a warm smile, e
xtends his hand to help me down, and I take a deep, calming breath. I’m not doing this alone because Ryan is with me. And the thought sends warmth flooding through my body.
I take his proffered hand and jump down. When I land, our bodies collide, chest to chest. He looks into my eyes and I swear there’s something in his. A glint of emotion. A flicker of something more. The spark that could easily turn into a forest fire if we were to stoke it. It’s enough to make me close my eyes and break the connection. Because whatever it is he sees in me, I’m almost certain I wouldn’t have to look hard to see it back. But we can’t do that. That’s not the purpose of our time together. I’m only just finally moving forward and latching onto another man wouldn’t be healthy. Especially a man like Ryan, who admitted he isn’t capable of being a husband or creating a family.
His life is the military, and I would rather spend the rest of my life alone than fall in love with another man who has dedicated his life to serving his country. I get people can die at any moment. They can get hit by a car or have a heart attack. But being in the military—or in Ian’s case, the Navy—means purposely risking your life, and I can’t ever go through what I went through with Ian’s death, again. I not only lost him, but I lost myself. And if it wasn’t for Ryan bringing me back…
“Micaela,” Ryan murmurs, and I realize I’m standing here with my eyes closed. He must think I’ve lost my mind.
“Thank you,” I say, slowly opening my eyes.
He nods once, no doubt understanding that I’m not just talking about him helping me out of the vehicle but everything else he’s done for me in the last twenty-four hours.
Wow, is that all it’s been? Twenty-four hours. It feels way longer than that. It’s probably because I spent the last year keeping myself secluded. I’m out for one day and it feels like it’s been a freaking week.
“What are we doing here?” I ask when he takes my hand in his and walks us toward a huge building.
“You’ll see.”