“I think you’ve said enough already.” Gonzolo wadded up napkin and tossed it onto his plate. “I’ll help my dad wash the dishes and then we’re leaving.” I wasn’t surprised that my brother offered to help while Maria sat on her ass and complained. The only time he had any peace was when he was at the fire station while she was somewhere else spending his money or flirting with other guys. Why he stayed with that puta was beyond me.
“No need, son. I cleaned up as I cooked. Sit back down, have a little chocolate flan before you go.”
Gonzolo nodded and stayed for dessert, but he remained tense, even after a shot of Kahlua, and it wasn’t long before they excused themselves.
“You weren’t kidding about her.” Karen’s expression revealed her understandable dislike for Maria.
“Yeah, she doesn’t have much to recommend her. She and my mother are two of a kind.”
“Ramon, don’t disrespect your mother.”
“Sorry, Pop.”
He nodded curtly and turned to focus on Karen from his position at the head of the small dining table. He put his hand over hers. “I hope you aren’t as cynical about love as my younger son is.”
“No.” She shook her head. “But then my parents have been happily married for a long…” She trailed off giving me an apologetic look. I had told her a little about my parents on and off again relationship.
“I imagine Ramon has shared some things about my wife and me?”
“She’s not your wife anymore,” I rebuked.
“She is in the eyes of the church.”
I sighed.
“She was my high school sweetheart. My first and only love.” His eyes softened with undeserved loyalty that I would never understand. “Is that how it is with you and Dominic?”
Karen nodded.
“He’s a good boy. He and Ramon have been friends since the day they first met. He was always tinkering with their bicycles trying to make them faster.”
“Was he successful?” Karen’s eyes sparkled at the mention of her husband.
“Oh, yeah,” I answered. “We had the most badass rides on the playground. We practically broke the sound barrier.”
Karen sent a beautiful smile my way. She had done a lot of smiling tonight. But I knew it was only a temporary guise. The stoic mask would return the moment she paused from her daily schedule long enough to take a breath. Yet, it was better than nothing. I determined right then to bring her back to visit my pop as often as possible. Even if we had to deal with Maria it would be worth it to see Karen so at ease.
“Did you know that Dominic has a terrible sweet tooth?” my Pop asked her. “His biggest weakness is pan dulce.”
She shook her head, then folded her hands and rested her chin on them, relaxing as my dad continued sharing more information about her husband that she apparently didn’t know. Silly childhood stuff. The shaving cream incident. The trouble we had courted for the hell of it as we had gotten older. When he started to tell her how I had talked Patch into signing up for music lessons together after his mom had gotten sick, the hour was late. But an idea had formed in my head. I broached it with her as I walked her home.
“You had a good time tonight.”
“The best. Your dad is awesome. Thank you for inviting me.”
“It was Pop’s idea, but you’re welcome.” I glanced at her as she strolled beside me. The hedges along the sidewalk cast shadows on her face that I was afraid might be the gloom that normally cloaked her returning. I forged ahead with the idea that I had formulated earlier. “You’re not so…tense when you’re focused on something that makes you happy.”
“I guess.” Her brows scrunched together. I placed my hand on the small of her back as we stepped off the curb and crossed the street together.
“You might try journaling,” I said as offhandedly as I could muster as we passed under a street lamp. “Or something like that to turn around your thoughts when they start to go dark. You probably noticed my dad using that technique back there at his apartment when I got negative about my mom.”
“Sure, but I don’t really see how…”
“What is it about Patch that made you fall for him?” I interrupted, attempting to show her what I meant.
“It’s more what he sees in me.” Her voice turned wistful. The fine lines between her brows smoothed.
“That’s it. The way you’re feeling right now. It’s good, right? I can see it in your face. I can hear it in your voice.” She cocked her head to the side starting to get me. I pressed her some more. “Explain about Patch. Flesh it out.”
“I love how he has this way of focusing on me like there’s no one else around worthy of his time.”
I nodded encouragingly for her to continue, though I believed any man would be interested in unraveling her secrets.
“It’s like he never gets tired of my company. He’s always asking questions. Why I’m the way I am. Why I do things a certain way.” She sighed.
“He’s very analytical…about everything. My dad wasn’t kidding about the bikes. His dad has probably told you plenty of stories, too. Every piece of mechanical equipment he could get his hands on, he would take apart and put it back together again. Nine times out of ten it operated more efficiently afterward.”
“I think the reason he asks so many questions is kind of like that. Because he wants to know what to do, what to say to help me be better. To fix me in a way, I guess like he fixes everything else.”
That was Patch for sure. He was always that way with me. He had been that way with the band. He had tried to fix everything before he had left. But people aren’t cold mechanical creatures. And I wondered deep down if Dominic really understood that a woman’s heart was more complicated than any machine.
Chapter Twenty
Dominic,
I was so excited to get your letter. I know you can’t write to me every day. I wasn’t trying to put pressure on you when we talked on the phone. I’m sorry if it seemed that way. I understand how busy you are and that you are restricted in what information you can share with me. I know that you aren’t being purposefully vague to shut me out or hurt my feelings. It’s just that sometimes it feels that way. I was so pleased to hear that you have close friends in your unit that you can trust. John and Nick sound like great guys. Ramon is being a great friend to me back here in OB. We talk about you a lot, but I confess that I still miss you terribly. I treasure every phone call and any correspondence that you have time to send me. I replay our conversations in my mind when I am alone in our room at night. I savor and reread each and every word you have written.
I love you,
Q2 otherwise known as the woman who is crazy about you.
Karen
“Hey,” I said in greeting as I stepped onto the small apartment patio where Ramon sat with his acoustic guitar. My chest was clinched. The look on his face made me feel like maybe I was intruding. “Your dad told me you were back here,” I explained as Ramon continued to stare at me blankly. Lost in the music, his fingers absently strummed the strings. The wistful tune resonated with my current mood. I had been close to tears all day. I knew it had a lot to do with the fact that Dominic hadn’t responded to my last couple of letters. I probably shouldn’t have accepted his dad’s dinner invitation this week. “What song is that?” I asked, twisting my hands together. “It’s beautiful, but I don’t recognize it.”
“Not a song,” he replied, his voice deeper than usual. He shrugged. “I was just messing around.” His focused gaze swept over me and his expression tightened. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied, managing to unravel my fingers.
He gave me a disbelieving look and raised one brow.
“Dominic…” I blew out a breath. “He…” I trailed off. My throat closed. I squeezed my burning eyes shut and dropped down beside Ramon into the empty chair. “It doesn’t matter,” I concluded.
“It does matter if it upsets you.” His soft voice soothed me like the surf when
it gently kissed the shore. “Talk to me. C’mon surfer girl.”
“I thought I knew him so well, what was most important to him. Lately I wonder if I got it wrong.”
“I don’t think you did.”
I managed a wan smile to the statement that I knew was meant to be reassuring. It only earned me a frown from him. I tried harder to unwind the emotions inside of me so that I could separate and make sense of them. “What happened to the sensitive artist that I married? The one that loved playing his bass as much as anything?”
“That hasn’t changed, Karen. You said he has a band over there. He hasn’t abandoned his music.”
“Granted, but it barely rates consideration anymore. The Marines are everything to him now. He revels in all of it. The brotherhood. The honor. The glory.”
Ramon’s dark eyes were liquid pools of understanding. “Is it really his changed attitude toward music that has you so concerned?” he inquired gently.
I shook my head. Tears gathered as I spilled the worst of it, my second deepest fear besides something horrible happening to Dominic. “What about me, Ramon? Where do I rank in his life now?”
“Right at the top. He loves you, Karen.”
“Does he or am I just a convenient contingency plan?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He wants you. He’s wanted you from the first time he ever laid eyes on you.”
“Really. I don’t remember it that way. You were the one who…”
“Not at the beach,” he cut in. “At the high school gym during graduation. We were there for Gonzolo. You were giving your valedictorian speech. Dominic grabbed my arm and asked me if I knew who you were. I looked you up in the program. He nodded when I told him your name, but he didn’t take his eyes off you. Not once.”
My eyes widened. Dominic had never told me.
“You were talking about goals. About how your priorities reflect your heart. You said that you could have all the learning in the world but if you didn’t have genuine friendships and real love in the end you had nothing.”
“I was very idealistic back then.”
“You were perfect.” My cheeks burned with heat from his praise and burned even brighter when his eyes met mine. A moment passed. A lingering, meaningful one. Did he mean what I thought he meant? Had there been a time when he might have considered me? A dog barked in the distance. Someone’s car locks chirped. I opened my mouth about to ask, but Ramon spoke dispelling the weighted silence between us. “Dominic wasn’t ever interested in being serious with anyone after his mother passed. I think he was afraid. I think he didn’t want to risk ending up with his heart shattered like his dad. But for you, he conquered that fear. For you, he took that risk. You are perfect for him.” The Dirt Dog’s guitarist resumed playing, and I sank deeper into my chair letting what he had revealed settle. I closed my eyes. They burned, but I didn’t cry. Instead, I repeated his words and tried to return my emotions to their proper place as wave after wave of the sympathetic chords of Ramon’s song washed over me.
When he stopped playing, I opened my eyes to find him staring at me. His chair creaked as he leaned forward. He brushed a loose wisp of hair behind my ear. My heart raced as I stared into his eyes. I spoke to fill the hush, to cover the longings that I shouldn’t feel. “Is music still a priority to you?”
“I’m passionate about it if that’s what you’re asking. It makes me happy to play. It’s a lot like you and the surfing. It fulfills something inside of me. I like writing songs. And the performing’s a definite rush. I hope we can figure things out as a band so I can continue to make my living doing something I love.”
“Dominic and you both started out playing together before Linc and Ash came along, right?”
He nodded. “My pop bought me a guitar after I caught mono. I was stuck at home and bored. He gave me a couple of his old Aerosmith records to listen to. He’d seen them live once. He thought Joe Perry was so cool. So I listened and I got hooked. That connection over music became a bridge for me and him during a time when things were rough between us because of my mom. I like to think maybe what I’m doing with the Dogs can do that for someone else going through similar stuff.”
“I believe it will,” I whispered, feeling a little breathless from the rare glimpse into his psyche that he had shared with me.
* * *
As the weeks wore on, life settled into a routine. My faith in my marriage wasn’t where it needed to be, but I was more accepting about it because of Ramon’s support. I still worked forty plus hours a week at the surf shop. I still had dinner at Ramon’s dad’s house very Sunday. I still had my weekly call from overseas if I was lucky. But my mornings alone with Ramon quickly became the barometer of each day. He challenged me to try new things on the water and out of it, praising me for each step I took to carve some fun outside of work and surfing, for instance renewing my friendship with Simone.
“So Simone’s second year at SDSU is going well?” Ramon asked from beside me on the wall. He took the last bite out of the breakfast burrito I had picked up for him at Neto’s on the way to the pier.
“Yeah.” I took a bottled water out of the cooler and uncapped it. “But her course load is heavy. She won’t even consider dating…” I trailed off.
“Go ahead. Don’t censor on my account. I never took sides in that mess between her, Linc and Ash. It’s tough. I certainly wish things had turned out differently considering that no one ended up happy.”
“Yeah, life often takes turns we don’t expect, and drugs and alcohol just mask the problems, they don’t solve them.”
He narrowed his eyes. I don’t think he appreciated my not so subtle fishing attempt. I wasn’t entirely sure that he was free of the vices I had seen him indulge in on the road, but if he was continuing to partake of them he hid it well.
“Simone is doing alright from what I can tell. She didn’t get the lead in the upcoming musical, but she got a part. With theater practice and her studies, she stays busy which is good for her.”
“I bet you talking to her helps a lot, too. I’m glad you reached out to her.”
“Only because you encouraged me to.”
“Friendships are meant to help you keep your head above the waves when life gets rough, right? But you gotta keep those lines of communication open so they can be there for you when you need them.”
“I know. I let a distance come between her and me when I went out on the road with the band. It was easier with all of the tension around Linc and Ash, but not better. She’s a good friend. So are you. Thanks for spending so much time with me. I know you have better things to do.” I glanced away. I didn’t want him to see the stupid tears that came into my eyes. The strain of my long-distance marriage coupled with all of the long, lonely nights in an empty bed had me entirely too emotional lately.
“You’re wrong. I’ve got nothing better to do. The best part of my day is spending time with you.” His voice was low, yet it carried over the wind that was currently chopping up the Pacific in front of us. The waves were so tall they were crashing over the pier. I turned to look at him. His gaze was steady and sincere.
“I feel the same way,” I admitted, my focus stalling on him, like it often did. On his board he was a showoff, but a mesmerizing one just like he was on stage. On shore, his wet suit unzipped and folded over his waist, he was sexier than any of the models in the surf catalogs. Bronze skin and toned muscle beckoned for more than just my gaze to trace them. I snuffed that forbidden thought, lifting my eyes to his face. The offshore wind blew the ebony curls out of his eyes, but they had gotten too long, often getting stuck on the dense stubble on his jaw. He needed a trim and a shave. But the kindness and caring evident in his eyes made me notice things I shouldn’t notice, and imagine things that I shouldn’t about him. I reached for an errant curl that had drifted toward his mouth. “I wish…”
“Karen.” The way he intoned my name silenced my voice at the same time that it seemed to validate my secret longings. He lowe
red his head closer to mine. I wet my lips spellbound by the intense smolder in his eyes. He dipped his gaze to them, then jerked backward abruptly, groaning as if he were in physical pain. “What are you doing?” He captured my hand by the wrist.
“Nothing…I…wasn’t doing anything. I just…your hair was stuck…and I…” Mortified, I tried to tug my hand free, but his grip only tightened.
“Settle, surfer girl. It’s alright. I thought…I wanted…” His voice was a deep rasp. My unfurled hopes faltered, the wind behind them flagging. “What I mean is feel free to straighten my hair any time it gets in the way.” His eyes lifted meeting mine again. “Alright?”
“Ok.” I nodded. “Same for me.” My chest was tight. I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me.
“Good. ‘Cause you’ve got a rat’s nest thing going on with yours right now.” His tone lightened. “It’s driving me crazy.” He released my wrist and attempted to tuck a couple of loose strands back into my braid. “I’m sorry,” he apologized as they only slid back out. “I think I’m only making matters worse. The whole thing seems to be beyond my capability to repair.” His eyes were a darker, more imploring shade of brown than usual and I knew that we weren’t just talking about my hair anymore.
“It’s ok. I can take care of it. I’ve got some detangler and a comb at the shop.” In other words, nothing almost happened, and even if it did, we never ought to speak of it again.
“Good. I admire your self-sufficiency. I always have.” He leaned back, returning his darkened gaze to the ocean. “I’m gonna miss this.”
“Miss what?”
He swept his arm wide. “Surfing. The ocean. OB.” He turned back to me. “You.”
I brought in a quick breath. “You’re leaving?” I rasped. “When?”
“Today,” he replied somberly, and my heart sank.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Those stupid tears reappeared.
“I didn’t want my leaving to be hanging over us today.” He stroked the back of his hand down my cheek. I resisted leaning into the gentle caress. “I’m sorry. The guys have been hounding me for weeks to get my ass up to San Francisco.”
Riptide (Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances Book 2) Page 11