by Jess Dee
It took a good few minutes before Sarah could speak through her tears, before the lump in her throat dissipated enough for words to form.
“Y-you know, someone told me you were a good man, Sam. The kind of guy I could marry. In…in fact, he suggested I should marry you.”
Sarah had to give Sam credit for his response. He didn’t look at her as though she were crazy, didn’t yank his arms away and run for the door. He just continued holding her hands and answered in his soothing voice. “Someone…as in Charlie?”
A stab of pain hit her at the mention of his name. “Y-yes. Charlie. He, uh, mentioned wedding bells.” God, why? Why? “But, see, the…the thing is…”
Sam smiled his encouragement. “The thing is?”
“The thing is…” She took a heaving breath. “I don’t want to marry you.”
“Well, now that’s perfectly okay with me.” Sam smiled. “Especially if you’re equating the idea with your world coming to an end.”
Surprising herself, Sarah smiled back. “Marrying you wouldn’t be terrible at all.” As suddenly as her smile had come, so it vanished, and there were the tears again.
Sam extracted one hand, but just to hand her a serviette.
She blotted her eyes to no avail. “What is terrible, though, is that…is that…”
“Is that?”
“Is that Charlie’s the one who wants me to marry you.”
“And that’s terrible because…?”
“Because the man I love wants me to marry someone else.”
“You love Charlie?” There was no judgment in his voice, no surprise. It was just a simple question.
Sarah’s jaw dropped. Her heart beat jaggedly and she stared at him, bewildered. “Uh, um…” Incapable of speech, even though the shock seemed to have halted the tears, she nodded. Of course she loved Charlie. She was hopelessly, madly in love with him. She probably had been all along, and had just been too focused on her work to notice it.
For all that mattered now.
Now the only thing farther down Charlie’s to-do list than marriage was Sarah.
“You seem surprised.”
“I am.” Though she shouldn’t be. If she’d just opened her eyes and seen what she and Charlie had together all along, she’d have realized inevitably this would be the end point. Her falling in love with him. How was it she could spend her life analyzing biochemical reactions and data and hard facts, but have no idea how to analyze her own heart?
Regular hook-ups, an inability to sustain a relationship with other men, a compulsive need to see Charlie whenever relationships with those other men failed… Of course she was in love with him.
She mentally slapped herself on the side of the head. And as she did, something occurred to her. Something she’d never considered before. The whole reason she’d had a string of failed relationships wasn’t because there was something wrong with her. It was because there was something right with Charlie. Everything was right with Charlie. He was her perfect guy.
It wasn’t that she was too boring for other men to find attractive, it was that other men could never live up to her surfer dude, no matter how perfect they might be. And Sam was a key example.
In fact, if she were totally honest with herself, she’d acknowledge that the night Sebastian dumped her, she couldn’t wait to get over to Charlie’s place, couldn’t wait to knock on his door, because Sebastian had never been the guy for her. Charlie had.
She looked at Sam, blinking in disbelief. “I can’t believe it took me this long to realize how I feel about him.”
“So he doesn’t know?”
Sarah frowned then, a frown she felt all the way down to her belly. “Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?”
“I told him the other night that I wasn’t interested in meeting anyone else, wasn’t interested in a date with you… Uh, I’m sorry. Please don’t take that the wrong way.” Geez, Sar, way to show your tact.
Sam just gestured encouragingly.
“I told him he was the only one I needed, and he shut me down so fast, my head’s still spinning.”
It was Sam’s turn to frown. “What did he say?”
“He fed me some garbage about the two of us living in different worlds. How he lives to surf, can’t think beyond the next big wave, and how I live to study and learn. Said he was the last person I needed in my life. He said—actually, he insisted—that I needed someone like you. Someone academic and smart. Someone who’d fit into my life, further my career, support my studies.”
“Thus your reason for being here tonight.”
“No. I’m here tonight because the thought of being at home alone almost killed me.”
“And after spending a few hours together, what’s your conclusion? Am I what you need? Or someone like me? Is Charlie right? Would your life be better and your career more successful if you had someone in it who thinks like you?”
Sarah was shaking her head before he’d finished asking. “I have heaps of people in my life who think like I do. My parents, my colleagues, my department. If I need support academically or work-wise, I have it in spades. I’m not looking for any more.”
“Then what were you looking for with Charlie?”
“That’s just the thing. Nothing.” Well, apart from sublime sexual satisfaction, but she could hardly confess that to Sam. “In the beginning I never had any expectations of him, never wanted more than we had, until…well, until now. And now I want everything, and he…he wants the freedom to surf in peace. He doesn’t want anyone needing him like I do.” He didn’t even want to sleep with her anymore. Or have sex, for that matter. With Charlie she’d learned that sleeping together and having sex were two very different entities.
And just like that she missed being in his arms all over again. Missed being cuddled, being snuggled so close to him she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.
“So you think he doesn’t care for you?”
Sarah dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her eyes, grateful she hadn’t had the heart or energy to put on makeup before coming out with Sam. Her mascara would be smeared all over her cheeks if she had.
How could Charlie not care about her? He knew her. Had offered to save her from a burning building. Surely someone who cared nothing for her wouldn’t put her first on his list to save? Surely?
But then why had he ended everything? Why had he found her the perfect guy to marry?
Heck, she wasn’t even interested in marriage. Not yet anyway.
She looked up at Sam again and held her hands out helplessly “It’s the only conclusion I can draw. Unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless he’s projecting his needs onto me.” Now that made more sense.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, maybe Charlie’s concern isn’t that I need someone like me. Maybe it’s that he needs someone like himself.” Perhaps marriage wasn’t really the bottom of his to-do list. Perhaps it was just marriage—or commitment—to Sarah that bothered him. Maybe Charlie was the one looking for someone he could relate to better. Someone who understood him. Someone who lived for the same things he did. Maybe Charlie was looking for a woman who loved to surf as much as he did.
Which excluded Sarah right off the bat, since the closest she’d come to a surfboard was the one signed by Kelly Slater.
Sam considered her for a while before responding. And when he did, he looked puzzled. “Now your theory might hold some water, except for one thing.”
She sniffed loudly. “And that is?”
“If Charlie really was looking for someone like himself, why do you suppose he told me he was in love with you?”
It took Sarah a good few minutes to respond. First she had to lift her chin off the table, but every time she succeeded it only dropped back down again. Then she had to think of something to say, but her mind had utterly blanked and not a rational thought entered her head. And finally, if she ever did begin to think logically again she’d
have to voice her words, but her throat was so parched the only sound she could form was a nonsensical rasp.
“H-he’s in love…with me?”
“The guy’s a goner.”
“B-but I don’t understand.”
“Nothing to understand. He’s crazy about you.”
“And you knew that?”
“I did.”
“Th-then why did you agree to ask me out?” It was crazy to focus on Sam when he’d just blown her world clean apart, but Sarah was just too stupefied by his question to comprehend what it all meant.
“Because Charlie asked me to. It seemed important to him that he find you a, uh, well a nice man.”
“You are nice. Like, really nice.”
Sam grinned. “I didn’t ask you out because I thought I was a nice guy. I asked because I was curious. I couldn’t figure out why Charlie would want me to date a woman he’s so obviously in love with. I guess I just wanted to see if the woman he set me up with was as in love with him as he was with her.”
A tear fell down her cheek, one she hadn’t even realized was there. “As it turns out, I am.”
“That you are.” There was a speculative gleam in his eye. “So, we’ve established two things. You love Charlie, and Charlie loves you.”
She sniffed. “Three things. You forgot the fact that Charlie is so eager to get me out of his life he’s trying to match me up with someone else.”
“Yeah. I don’t think that’s fact at all. I think it’s fiction on Charlie’s part. So let’s just let that one stand on the side for a while. Which leaves us with two facts. You love him and he loves you.”
“Whatever that’s worth now.” She felt as morose as she sounded.
“Are you just going to ignore those facts?”
“I tried tackling the one head on. Charlie kicked me out of his flat.”
“So you’re giving up?”
“What else can I do? Hit Charlie over the head with his surfboard? Think then he’ll tell me how he feels?” She felt more hopeless than ever. If Charlie really did love her, as Sam insisted, then it made even less sense that he tried to set her up with someone else. If anything, it hurt even more. Did he abhor the idea of loving her so much he was willing to take any step to avoid it?
“Is this what you do when you don’t get the results you’re hoping for in your research? When you don’t find an agent that will work effectively in chemotherapy? Do you just give up and stop looking?”
“Of course not. We use different methods or try other agents. We’d never stop looking.”
“Then might I suggest you try another method with Charlie?”
Sarah stilled, her senses suddenly on hyper alert. Something about the glint in Sam’s eye made her perk up and pay attention. “Just what other method would you suggest, Dr. Sherman?”
Chapter Seven
Sarah eyed the weak morning light warily, grateful Charlie was on dawn patrol. Any later in the day and the sun would scald her pale skin. Even if she were to slap SPF 30 all over her shoulders, she’d probably still break out in a whole batch of freckles.
Clutching Sam’s surfboard to her bikini-clad body, she walked towards the water’s edge and let the surf wash over her toes. A rush of uncertainty hit her. The plan had seemed so simple last night—get out on the water this morning so Charlie could see she was trying to fit in with his lifestyle. Trying to be more like him. That was all she needed to do. But now she began to doubt herself.
Sarah was under no illusion she could ever be like Charlie. Not when it came to surfing. She was as useless on a board as Charlie was with DNA sequencing. But if Charlie thought he needed someone more like him—just like he thought she needed someone more like herself—then God help her, she was going to be more like him.
A shudder jolted through her. The water was freezing. No wonder most everyone on the beach wore wetsuits. But then Sarah had never before considered taking a surfboard into the ocean at six a.m., so she didn’t happen to have a wetsuit hanging around, handily waiting for the opportunity.
Sam had offered her his, but he was a half a foot taller and a football field wider than her, so there wasn’t a chance it would fit. She almost wished Sam were here now, instructing her on what steps to take next. Sarah didn’t have the first clue what to do with the board. But if Sam were here, Charlie would instantly believe his matchmaking efforts had been successful, and her whole reason for this exercise would be nullified.
Sarah’s entire plan hinged on the fact that Sam was right, and Charlie did in fact love her. If he didn’t, if he truly was serious about setting her up with another man, then Sarah might find herself very rejected and very red-faced in the next few minutes.
It was a scenario she dreaded so much, a wave of nausea rolled through her, almost making her turn around and run home.
But if Charlie was in love with her, then the cold water and the early morning would be totally worth it. And as far as Sarah was concerned, being with Charlie was worth any amount of discomfort and difficulty.
How hard could this be anyway? All she had to do was paddle out to where the waves were rising and find Charlie. As Sam had pointed out, she didn’t actually need to surf. Didn’t have to get up on the board. She just needed to stay afloat until she located him.
Then she could join him in his world and become more like him. Hey, maybe once she was out there, Charlie could give her a few tips. Could teach her how to stand on the board.
If Charlie wanted to see her.
She edged her way in until water swirled around her knees. Her nipples beaded into sharp points and goose bumps covered her flesh. But the cold was less intimidating than the waves forming up ahead. Cold she could deal with. Ten footers and massive breakers she couldn’t.
She laughed at her foolishness. The waves were probably no bigger today than usual. It was just peeking at them from around the surfboard she now clutched to her chest that made them appear insurmountable.
She scanned the hordes of surfers in the water, trying to pick out that one familiar, beautiful face. But with the rising sun forming a golden halo behind them, she couldn’t make out more than human shapes on boards. Hopefully the shapes would become clearer the closer she got to them.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she plopped the board on the water and waded in deeper.
Now or never.
She grabbed the front of the board with both hands and dived on top of it.
The water hit her like a deluge of melting ice, the cold so astonishing she let go of the board, lost her balance and tumbled over it sideways, landing unceremoniously in the shallow water.
The chill took her breath.
She jumped up, spluttering, just in time for a wave to knock her back, and over she went again.
Less than a minute in the water, just a couple of meters from shore, and already she was fumbling and stumbling like an idiot.
Surfing was so not her thing.
She felt like a grade-A klutz. Even though she’d swum in the ocean a million times before, she’d never done it at dawn, never when she was this cold and never with a surfboard attached to her ankle.
Then there was the whole coordination business. How the heck did Charlie go from lying to standing in one fluid movement? It seemed, in a word, impossible. Surely the fifteen years spent determining the human genome had been less complicated than mastering one wave?
She longed for the safety of her lab, for the warmth of her white coat and for the encouraging comments from her colleagues. All she got was a mouthful of salty water.
At least she could swim, she consoled herself. Which made drowning only a very small possibility—especially if she had the board to hold on to.
With renewed determination, and a cause worth fighting for, Sarah found her feet, jumping up to avoid disaster as another wave tumbled around her on its way to the beach.
Before the next breaker could knock her over, she steadied the board and slid onto it, using more finesse than she
had before. This time, much to her surprise and delight, she managed to stay afloat.
Sarah sized up each wave as it approached. She cut through a couple, paddling as hard as she could, and crested others, gliding harmlessly over them.
Her heart beat like the devil, and she didn’t dare take her gaze off the approaching surf. Her only saving grace was her body’s ability to acclimatize to the cold. Now instead of frostbite setting in, she imagined there were only a few icicles hanging from her fingers, nose and toes. But at least her heart still pumped, and her arms and legs worked.
Breathing twice as hard as usual, she crested a wave, eluding its fury as it broke behind her.
A cloud must have shadowed the sun, letting Sarah make out more than sunlit silhouettes in the distance. She could now see colors and faces as well. And though she didn’t spot Charlie, she clearly saw three people wearing his Bondi Surf rash shirts over their wetsuits.
Bingo!
She steeled her shoulders and made her move, paddling towards an approaching wave. If she could reach it before it broke and float over it, she’d be fine—and almost at her target.
She couldn’t.
A shout pierced the air just as the wave broke—a good few seconds before she’d estimated it would, taking her unprepared. Billions of liters of water smashed over her head and body, tossing her clean off the board and dumping her into a raging swirl of whitewater.
The ocean threw her around like a leaf in a whirlpool, sucking her down, tumbling her about. She couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t determine up from down. Her world was white and black and wet and out of control. Air bubbles massed around her.
Panic hit her with more force than the water. She was going to die. Going to drown beneath the very wave she’d attempted to crest. Going to—
Sarah slammed into a brick wall.
As fast as she’d spun through the vortex of swirling water, so she came to a shocking halt.
Too stunned to move, she simply gave herself over to the forces of nature and sank.
Only she wasn’t sinking. She was moving upward, out of the water. Not moving by herself. She was being pulled, yanked by both hands, and then both arms. And then her head was out of the water, and she would have breathed, would have filled her lungs with much needed air, but her chest must have died before her brain stopped working, because no matter how damn hard she tried, she just couldn’t get a morsel of oxygen in.