by DL White
After a few minutes, we ventured further, past waist deep waters and I took my first ocean swim.
When the sun had sank well below the horizon, we walked back up the path and peeled off our wet swimwear, hanging them over the deck railing to dry. We had sex again, this time slower and sweeter. Seductive, not a frenzied afternoon fuck after dancing around each other for weeks. Trey serenaded me with the romantic playlist he'd created. We drank wine and ate decadent dark chocolate cupcakes and enjoyed every last inch of each other.
I fell in love with being a sexual woman, with feeling safe and open to exploring, with calling out my wants and desires with a man whose singular goal was to see me happy.
When we got back up, it was late, but we were starving, so I made peanut butter sandwiches, and we both ate out of an open bag of chips as we sat at the kitchen island.
"Trey…" I crunched while he wolfed down half a sandwich in one bite. "I have a question I need to ask you."
"Why do you tell me that you need to ask me a question?"
"I want you to be prepared. And I want you to be truthful with me. Lies breed resentment. Don't spare my feelings."
"Ok." He chewed and swallowed, then gulped down a few swallows of bottled water. "I won't lie."
"Would it… does it…" I sighed. How could I ask this question that was sitting in the front of my mind without sounding clingy and… like a virgin?
"Would what? Does what? Just ask."
"I've never been the type to date around, and I don't want to start. I don't want to sleep with anyone else right now. Or…maybe ever? I don't know, that's how I feel right now. Do you feel uncomfortable that I care about you like that?"
Trey bit into the second half of his sandwich and stared at me. I knew he heard me, so I waited him out.
"Es," he finally said, after he swallowed. "You remember when we had that conversation at my house, and we said we liked each other? And when I said I planned to pursue the shit out of you?"
“Yes. That was before you knew I was a virgin."
"That didn't change shit for me, except knowing that I had to be on my game today. I told you today that I need you to fall in love with me, like ASAP."
The burn of my blush was hot under my skin. My insecurity showed its ugly head at stupid times. This was a stupid time.
“So, how do you think I feel? You care for me, and you don't want to be with anyone else?" He leaned over to nuzzle my neck and nip my earlobe. "How do you think I feel about that, Esme?"
"Good," I whispered, trying to hide my shy, stupid smile.
"Woman. Listen.” He shook his head. "If it's one thing you're going to learn about being with me, it's that I love being with you. I like every room that you are in, even that bright yellow bedroom. You're the only person I want to be with, so hearing that you only want to be with me? I'm good with that.”
He leaned over to brush his lips against my temple. “Are you done having this moment, Esme?”
"Yes," I answered quickly. “Thank you for indulging me.”
“No problem. I was hoping I could fall asleep watching a movie with my girl. But my girl is badass Esme, who knows who she is to me. She's fearless and bold."
"And mean.”
"A little." He smiled. "Is she in there?"
I gripped Trey by the chin and pulled his face to mine so I could kiss his lips. "The badass is in. Thank you for reminding me who I am."
"Any time, beautiful.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Trey
Content warnings: references to mental illness.
I fucking loved Esme.
I fought the feeling, the very thought of it, because… Bruh, what?
But I had to be honest with myself. I wanted to be in love with her, so I gave up, gave in, and let myself sink into that warm feeling when I thought about a life with her.
Potentially. Because Esme was in love with me, too but getting her to say it?
I had to remind myself of the first few weeks of knowing her. I would need to keep reminding myself that I was a patient man. Esme was not the type of woman to jump into forever based on fun dates and nice dinners. We were going to do the dance, play the game, wait to say those words to each other because it was so soon, and it was so good that it couldn't possibly be real.
But it was real. Very real.
It was real when she woke up the next morning to my face between her legs, while we ate breakfast and watched the local morning news, and walked the beach looking for seashells…. it was real.
I happened to glance over at her while we waited at the marina for the sailboat that I chartered to find her eyes on me with that dreamy smile. I had to just… decide that it was cool for us to know it because, in true Trey and Esme fashion, it wouldn’t be a random moment that we said it. It had to be special.
I was looking forward to that moment.
"This is probably the best vacation I've been on in years," I told Esme. She looked over at me, her curls blowing in the wind under a wide-brimmed straw hat. The pink and purple had washed out, so it was her natural, dark brown color.
"It's only day two, Trey."
"Yeah. And I'm saying it's already the best. Normally I'm alone, or I drag Ken. He only wants to find a racquetball court or stalk restaurants or watch cooking shows. So I end up hanging out by myself in bars or sitting at the house. I always have to bring work, so at least I can hear the ocean while I'm pounding away at reports."
I waved a hand around the expansive sand, the ocean waves, the marina, the restaurants and shops around us. "This time, I didn't even bring my laptop. And I brought my girl, who I much prefer over Ken, by the way."
"Do you now?"
"You don't snore. And you have a lot less back hair."
"Thanks, Trey. Thank you for that."
"I am having a good time with you. Even though it's only day two."
I leaned in close and waited for her to drop those lips on me. She grabbed my chin and pulled me to her so she could kiss me. I loved it when she did that.
"Same. My vacations have all been with people pissed that they had to drive because Esme won't fly and pissed that they have to do boring shit because Esme doesn't like rides and pissed that Esme won't get in the water if we go to the beach. And pissed that they can't go to a sushi restaurant because Esme won't eat that. I'm tired of holding myself and everyone else back from having the maximum amount of good time. Clearing my list has been so good for me."
"I feel that." I nodded. "You've grown a lot in the last month."
"True. I could argue that it's because I found somebody amazing that I care about, who cares about me."
"Care, huh? We care about each other."
"Yeah," she answered, after a long, meaningful stare. "A lot. We care a lot."
Her eye caught the long vessel that moored into the marina. The driver cut the rumbling engine, leaving echoing sounds of water splashing against the hull of the boat. "Wow. I hope that's ours."
"Think so." I stood, pulling her up with me. "Let's go sailing, baby."
We spent four glorious hours on the ocean and inlet cruise. The trip on the thirty-nine-foot yacht with eight other passengers included a light lunch and a wine flight. Except for Esme's thin, white sundress constantly catching the wind so that she had to clutch fists of it in her hand, and her beach hat flying off of her head, it was a perfect sail.
We got off the boat slightly drunk, so we decided to grab ice cream cones and walk the beachside attractions. I got chocolate, Esme got strawberry cream, and we held hands while we wandered.
"You really didn't bring your computer. That seems like a big deal."
"It is. I never go anywhere without my work machine. Always something to do, some fire to put out. So, it's weird to have nothing to do."
"Saul didn't fire you, did he?"
"No. Not yet, anyway."
"Do you think he will?"
"Nah." I licked my cone, trying to be a positive thinker, but the reality w
as that Pops very well could fire me. "He can't admit when he's wrong, but his habit is to find a way to come around. I hope the last few days of riding Vincent on this revamped deal have shown him that I was right."
"Especially since Miller basically admitted to everything we suspected. Deeply in debt, hiding it, hoping you would sign the papers before you found it and were stuck."
"Right. It's best, in these situations, to…" I swiped a hand in front of us. "Get out of his face. All the way. No calls, no email, don't even be around. I heard that he was going to try to come to the office for a few days, so I took those days off."
"You don't feel like you're hiding?"
I shook my head. "No. I know Pops enough to know to stay out of his way. My sister—"
I halted, realizing that I was about to tell Esme about Missy, a woman I never talked about, had avoided talking about so much that I was putting off therapy because I'd have to talk about her. The only person I'd really confided in was Ken, and he was sworn to secrecy.
That I was about to share something so… sacred to me, and that I almost had no qualms about that spoke volumes.
Esme caught a drip of ice cream from the side of her cone with her tongue. I felt that in my groin. "You don't have to talk about your sister, Trey. It's ok."
"I uh… I don't mind, actually. Missy said something to me when I was at the house, and Pops blew up. She said I needed to give him some time because he couldn't reason in a heightened state. Then she said something like, ask me how I know."
"Hmmm…" Her forehead wrinkled as she took another lick of her cone. "What does that mean, you think?"
"Missy has Bipolar Disorder."
I glanced at Esme, looking for adverse reactions in her demeanor. My family history meant baggage and not anything I could easily unload. Esme seemed unbothered, deeply concentrating on finishing her cone before it melted.
"Uh… anyway, she spent her teen years at an institution in Alabama. It was the best place to manage her lows and highs, but she didn't want to stay, so she checked herself out. She's inconsistent with her medication and therapy. She hates the way Lithium makes her feel, so as soon as her moods stabilize, she stops taking it, and then—"
"The cycle of trying to get her back on medication."
I nodded, relieved that she understood. "She's heavily dependent on my parents. They bought her a place. They pay her bills. I'm bending over backward, trying to please Pops, and not bring him stress. Missy…. Missy is all stress."
My shoulders sagged with the heavy emotion that came over me when I thought about Missy. It was such a delicate situation. Pops thought that he could love and spoil the mental illness away when I thought Missy needed a stronger hand and to be more independent.
What the hell did I know, though? I wasn’t doing so well in the not stressing out my father department.
"Do you think she might be saying that she's more like Saul than anyone knows?"
I pondered that, admitting to myself that it was something I hadn't wanted to think about.
"Maybe. This disorder can be hereditary. I'd like to talk to her more about it if we can have a conversation without fighting. She can't help the way she is, so it's up to me to change. I promised myself that when I got back to Atlanta, I'd see a therapist. I need to handle my relationship with her better than I have. That's because of you, you know."
"Me? We don't even talk about her—"
"No, I meant that I want to start dealing with things that I hold in, stuff that holds me back. I want whole and healthy relationships. Someday I want to be a great husband. A great father. I don't want anything standing in the way of that."
"Mmmmm," Esme hummed, her expression thoughtful. "I like hearing that."
"Yeah?"
"Because no matter what, the goal is to be the best person possible, but it's dead sexy to want to be that so that you can enrich someone else's life. I like that about you."
"Good answer."
I let the silence between us hang like a weighted blanket. The surf, the sand, the crowds all added to the atmosphere. Esme could change the conversation if she wanted to. Or forge ahead. Whichever way she wanted to go, I was game.
"And because…" She added, after a few minutes. "We've been dancing around this thing between us like it won't eventually lead to those discussions."
"Better answer. Do you think about that? With us?"
"I didn't used to."
Esme stopped walking and tossed the last bit of her cone in the nearby trash bin. My half-eaten cone followed. The local Myrtle Beach shops were nowhere near as good as Bruster's handmade ice cream.
I moved to stand in front of her, tucked my finger under her chin, and tipped her head up to see her eyes. "Didn't used to," I repeated. "So you do, now?"
Esme bobbed her head side to side. The expression she wore was… pained. Tortured. That wasn't the reaction that I expected. Or wanted.
"You don't want to talk about it?"
"Not right now."
"Cool. Zero pressure, baby."
I dropped an arm around her shoulder and guided her back toward the parking lot.
I could wait.
It had only been a few days of sleeping next to Esme, but I was already so used to sharing a bed with her that I noticed when her spot was empty. I sat up, blinking to adjust to the predawn darkness. Though I'd normally be wide awake at 5 AM, the sea breeze had been so relaxing that I'd been sleeping in. Getting back on the Peloton was going to be a struggle.
I pulled on a pair of sweats and stumbled through the kitchen. The red light on the coffee pot was on. A shadow outside caught my eye. Esme was sitting in one of the deck chairs facing the surf, her hands wrapped around a coffee mug. Her silk robe fluttered in the breeze.
I stepped out onto the deck barefoot. She watched me slide a chair over and sit next to her.
"Hey, girl."
"Hey. Did I wake you up?"
"My body missed you. What's up?"
"I was tossing and turning. I decided to get up."
“Two things Pettigrews are known for: a big nose that can smell what’s for dinner, and big ears that are good for listening."
She smiled, almost laughing.
“Ok, the nose thing is true, but I lied about the ears. You don't want to talk to me?"
"I love talking to you. I just… I have feelings that I'm sorting through."
"You're up before the sun, sitting in the dark, staring at the ocean. It might help to talk. Is it about me?"
"A little," she admitted, her tone husky. I heard her swallow, then go on. "We've built this cocoon that we've been living in for five days. I have sex every day. I hang out with my guy, who thinks I'm amazing. I eat good food, I drink good wine. Did I mention that I have sex every day?"
"You mentioned that. Life's been good this week."
“So, we go home today, and I’ve been avoiding thinking about the real life that awaits me when I hit city limits. It’s like I'm coming down from a crazy high, and I have to deal with whatever the hell I did while I was freewheeling."
She huffed a hard breath through her nose, shaking her head.
"I've been doing the most insane shit, things I would never do. I quit my job, Trey. I dyed my hair purple. I had sex with a man I met a month ago."
When she put it that way, things did look a little wild. But wild was not a bad thing.
“None of that is bad, Esme. And I mean… I have a real life to go back to, too. But maybe we don’t dismantle the cocoon when this vacation ends. We take everything we built during this time together, and we keep it going. You're still with a guy that thinks you're amazing. We can still eat good food and drink wine and have sex. I'll help you look for a job. We'll make a new list of insane shit to do together."
"Trey…"
“Look, do you regret anything from the last month? Anything you wish you didn't do? Do you wish you never got on that Ferris wheel? Or danced with me on the roof? Did you want to stay at Benning? Didn't you
love your purple hair?"
"I wouldn't undo anything I've done, for sure. I just… I really thought that the balance of my life would be me living my best Auntie existence. Maybe I could overcome my fear of flying enough to travel. I could stop being afraid of men enough to enjoy sex and have relationships. I thought my list would free me from that prison of fear so I could be different, I guess."
She paused for a beat, her face turning toward mine before she lost her nerve and dropped her gaze to the mug in her lap. I reached over and tipped her chin back up with a finger.
"Your list did free you, Esme. And you are different."
"To what end, though?” She coughed out a laugh. “I mean… I met a man that makes me want nothing but to be his, and only his. He wants to be a father. It never occurred to me that I don't even know if my body will do that when I'm ready. And even if it can, I've known him for a month. It is crazy to be thinking about planning for the future when I've only known a person for a month."
"Does the passage of time matter? Do you not feel what you feel, no matter how long you've felt it?"
“What if I'm just caught up in someone new, and the magic fades, and the cocoon goes away, and we fizzle? What if I lose something that I really like having? What if I get the chance to have things that I told myself weren’t for me, that I realize I've wanted my whole life? I'm terrified to want these things, because what if I can't have them?”
“Esme, baby…” I moved closer, wrapping my arms around her. “How long have you been up, torturing yourself with this? Who said you can't have it? You have never been here before, and that's okay. You're not alone. I'm not putting timestamps on us. If you want this? If you want me? I'm here."
"I just…don't want to be selfish," she said her voice, not even a whisper. “Not about you, not with your time and what you want. My feelings for you are so strong, Trey. So strong that I want to be fair to you. Having children after 40 is a risk, and I'm scared that maybe the mature choice would be to—"
"No."
I was a little louder, more forceful than I wanted to be, but that stream of consciousness could not continue. I wouldn't hear of Esme making sacrifices for what she thought I wanted.