Diving In

by Galway, Gretchen

  She walked over and sat on a wicker ottoman next to him to watch him sleep, even though she was unable to see his face clearly in the shadows. Her fingers twitched to adjust his head. Surely he’d wake up with a stiff neck, sleeping like that.

  She couldn’t stop herself from watching him for a while, listening to the sounds of the ocean and the people below drifting up through the twinkling night.

  Looking at him made her feel good—nothing complicated, just happy and alive. He had the cutest ears. They stuck out just enough to be interesting. He had a piercing but didn’t wear an earring anymore; she wondered if he’d had a stud or a hoop, if it was gold or stainless steel. A diamond would look hot in that earlobe, very hot. She’d nibble on it with her teeth and make him squirm, blowing on it.

  If he didn’t have so much trouble sleeping, she would’ve woken him. She sat on her hands. Just watching him for a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

  “Ansel can’t afford his own place, but you can. There’s no reason for you to be here.”

  Nicki cocked her head. It sounded like Diane’s voice, maybe from another balcony. Who else would be talking about Ansel? But Nicki must’ve heard her wrong. Ansel was rich.

  “Speaking of reasons, why are you here again?” That sounded like Brand.

  “Give me a refill, will you, penis brain?”

  “My pleasure, sweetie plum,” Brand said.

  Nicki put a hand over her mouth, grinning. Should she go inside, give them some privacy?

  Ansel snorted in his sleep, drawing her attention back to him. She sighed happily. He really was adorable. Maybe Brand and Diane’s loud voices would wake him up so she could drag him back to bed.

  “I am not drunk,” Diane said loudly. “The other night, okay, yes, I was drunk. I woke up the next morning with hair on my chest.”

  “I know you’re exaggerating. I was there. I would’ve noticed. I studied you very carefully in that jogging swimsuit G-string thing you like to wear.”

  “You’re disgusting,” Diane said.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Shut up.”

  Low masculine laughter drifted over the balcony wall.

  Oh, my. This sounds kind of personal. Reluctantly, she stood to go inside. Ansel did need his sleep.

  “I really wish you’d leave,” Diane said with a sigh.

  “So, when are you going to pop the question? Although I suppose it’s kind of awkward to propose marriage when his girlfriend is hanging around all the time,” Brand said. “How many minutes have you managed to get him away from her?”

  “She’s not his girlfriend.”

  “Is that what you’re telling yourself?”

  “She’s just a… thing. A fling.”

  “He thinks he’s in love with her.”

  Nicki sucked in a breath, paralyzed where she stood on the other side of the balcony privacy screen, thoughts of going inside forgotten.

  “You know how he is,” Diane said. “He always says that.”

  “She’s afraid of things. Lots of phobias.”

  “See? There you go. Ansel to the rescue. He’s got to have a reason to gallop in on his white horse, carry off the damsel in distress. You know how he is.”

  Brand chuckled. “Yeah.”

  There was a long silence. Nicki pressed her back to the balcony wall, heart racing, looking at Ansel for any sign that he’d heard.

  Thinks he’s in love with her. Damsel in distress. You know how he is.

  Ansel didn’t move.

  She went up on tiptoes, straining to hear the next word, not caring anymore about the ethics of eavesdropping.

  She finally heard Brand say, “You did not.”

  “I did. I wish I hadn’t had so much to drink. He didn’t think I was serious.”

  “That was right when I got here. Tuesday night.”

  “Yeah, your timing really sucks,” she said.

  There was another long pause. “He didn’t mention it.”

  Nicki scowled at the balcony wall, which gave nothing away. Didn’t mention what?

  “He’s not an asshole like you, that’s why.”

  “I warned him yesterday, and he didn’t say a word.”

  “Warned him. Thanks a lot,” Diane said. “How could you know? I haven’t said a word to anyone.”

  “Di, come on. You’ve been hinting for years. When we were dating, you flat-out told me you were going to marry him after you turned thirty if you couldn’t find anybody else.”

  “I did not.”

  Brand snorted.

  “Fine,” she said. “Whatever. It’s a good plan.”

  “You’re having a midlife crisis. Just like Ansel. Except he’s met somebody who might stop him from screwing up. She’s good for him.”

  Feeling her face get warm, Nicki smiled, liking Ansel’s taste in business partners.

  “You’re just saying that because she gets in my way,” Diane said.

  Brand’s voice lowered. “The only person I want in your way is me, Di.”

  “Fat chance. I’m marrying Ansel.”

  Oh my God. Diane sounded like she believed it. Poor woman. Even if Brand was right, and Diane was just grasping at Ansel out of convenience, Nicki felt for her.

  So why had her heart tumbled into her pelvis?

  “He won’t do it,” Brand said.

  “He loves me. He will.”

  “He loves you,” Brand replied. “He won’t.”

  “His father will forgive him if he gets married. He won’t have to fake a living buying cheap office space in random places with you anymore. He’ll be a credit-card-carrying Jury-Jarski again.” Then Diane said something too quiet for Nicki to hear.

  Silence stretched out between the balconies. Nicki realized she’d stopped breathing.

  “I’ve always wanted to have children,” Diane said. “I don’t want his family’s money. I know how to make money. But I—oh, leave me alone.”

  “I can’t,” Brand said bitterly. “I’m in love with you.”

  Nicki put a hand over her mouth.

  She shouldn’t be listening to this. This was none of her business.

  But it was her business.

  Her head spun with phrases out of context—proposal, children, love, money.

  Ansel’s father was mad at him about something?

  “Brand, you can’t mean it,” Diane said.

  “I think about you when I wake up, when I brush my teeth, when I call my accountant. I think about you when I’m stirring sugar into my coffee. I think about you when I’m supposed to be reading a book about other people, and I think about you whenever I see a beautiful woman with children that aren’t ours.”

  Nicki sank down to the ottoman. Her hand, still pressed over her mouth, captured her sigh.

  She knew she should go, but…

  That was beautiful. If they’d wanted total privacy, they should’ve gone inside. Sound traveled far near water at night.

  Her eyes fell on Ansel, still twisted at an odd angle as he slept, and her gooey feelings turned cold.

  He hadn’t told her. He hadn’t told her anything about Diane proposing marriage, about family problems, about being broke.

  Two thousand dollars for the cabana.

  The restaurant. The groceries.

  What else hadn’t he shared? How much did she really know about him? Now Nicki was dying to know about his previous girlfriends.

  Damsels in distress…

  Her face felt hot. Is that why he liked her? Because she was pathetic?

  She sat on the ottoman and watched him sleep, trying to understand how her happiness could’ve unraveled so easily.

  * * *

  When Ansel opened his eyes, he expected to see moonlight, stars, and palm trees, not Nicki’s angry face.

  “What’s the matter?” He sat up, rubbing his neck, vowing to get a real mattress out here one day.

  Nicki shook her head and disappeared inside. He didn’t move at first, blinking away sleep,
massaging his shoulder, but then she reappeared and waved for him to follow.

  If she didn’t look so upset, he’d be optimistic about her plans.

  But she did look upset. He paused in the doorway, trying to shake off the nice dream he’d been having—about her.

  It must be because he’d left the bed so early; he hadn’t even given cuddling a fair shot. “I’m sorry,” he said, slinging the sheet over his shoulder. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Believe me when I say how much I wish I could. I can understand—”

  “Close the door.”

  “What?”

  She reached past him and jerked the balcony door shut. “I just overheard Brand and Diane talking on their balcony. I don’t want the same to happen to us.” She yanked the drapes over the glass.

  He had a really bad feeling about this. “Brand and Diane?” He massaged his face, trying to wake up. What would make her so angry? Unfortunately, he could think of a few reasons. He wrapped the sheet around his waist.

  “First of all,” she said, “I admit I shouldn’t have been listening. I didn’t mean to at the beginning, and then, well, I just couldn’t stop.” She began pacing at the foot of his bed, staring at the floor. She was wearing one of his black T-shirts and a pair of white panties.

  His body, accustomed to the gratification she could bring, hardened in response. He sank slowly into the desk chair, uncomfortable and pessimistic about anything good happening. “What did they say?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me Diane asked you to marry her?”

  He blinked in surprise. He hadn’t told Brand about it, so Diane must have brought it up on her own. “I didn’t tell anyone about it, not just you.”

  “She said it was Tuesday, which means it was before you came down on me about Miles. Now who’s the one hiding their feelings?”

  “I wasn’t hiding mine,” he said, “I was hiding hers. She’s a friend. She’d had too much to drink, she’d lost her job. I knew she didn’t mean it.”

  “We slept together Tuesday night.”

  “I remember it fondly.”

  “A woman you love proposes to you, and you turn around and have sex with somebody else?”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You wish I’d had sex with her instead?”

  “This isn’t happening.” Her voice was heavy with despair as she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “But nothing’s happened. Nothing’s changed. Not really.”

  “But it has,” she said. “Brand said she’s been planning this for a long time. Marrying you. She didn’t deny it.”

  “You were eavesdropping from two balconies away,” he said. “How can you be sure what she said?”

  “I’m sure about that part.”

  “Well, I don’t believe it. But let’s forget that for a minute. Marrying Diane obviously isn’t what I want, so why are you mad at me?”

  She touched the lampshade on the wall sconce, adjusted it slightly. “There’s more.”

  “More what?”

  “More about you,” she said.

  If Brand and Diane were talking about him, his family and financial situation would’ve come up. Neither one of them thought he was handling it right.

  He took a deep breath. “You found out I’m not rich anymore.”

  “They said something about your father.”

  “Yeah, he didn’t like my life choices. He cut me off.”

  “When?”

  “Last fall.”

  She shook her head, looking incredulous.

  “It bothers you.” It was a statement, not a question. Whether people wanted to admit it or not, money mattered. They liked him better because he had money. Why wouldn’t they like him less without it?

  “You should’ve told me,” she said.

  He crossed his legs, leaned back, and tried to hide how much it hurt to know she was the same as everybody else. “I’m glad I didn’t. Maybe you wouldn’t be here right now if I had.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “How can you say that?”

  “What am I supposed to think? You’re freaking out because you heard I’m not the rich guy you thought I was.”

  “I’m upset—upset—because you lied to me. You’ve intentionally made me think that money’s no big deal, dropping two grand on a cabana so I could take a shower…”

  He looked at his hands, entwined in his lap. “It was worth twice that.”

  There were a few long seconds of silence.

  “Wow, I’m so flattered.” Her voice dropped an octave. “Now I’m not only a prostitute, but an expensive one.”

  “Come on, you’re overreacting. I didn’t tell you everything, that’s true. Neither did you. When you were going to tell me you were in love with another guy?” He stood. “A bit more relevant, don’t you think? I didn’t come down on you about that.”

  She shook her head. “I am not in love with Miles.”

  “Sure.”

  “I wouldn’t have slept with you if I’d thought I was in love with another man,” she said.

  “Not even to help yourself get over him?”

  “No.”

  “I wish I believed you.”

  “Yeah, me too.” She turned away from him. Her shoulders were rigid under his shirt.

  “This is why I didn’t tell you,” he said. “I was afraid you’d react just like this.”

  “You have a pretty low opinion of me,” she said, turning. “But apparently, that’s what you like. Women you can look down on.”

  “That is not true,” he said. “I don’t care what you think you heard.”

  “They laughed about it, both of them.” She ran a hand through her hair. “You like to rescue damsels. I’m a damsel, I guess. Even though I didn’t need rescuing, you obviously think I did.”

  “What I told Brand”—he clenched his teeth—“was that I thought I was in love with you.” He looked down at himself, furious he wasn’t wearing anything but a bed sheet. He couldn’t put on his shirt because she was wearing it. She was also blocking his way to his closet.

  Nicki didn’t look surprised by his declaration. “Diane said, ‘he always says that.’ That’s what they were laughing about.”

  “I don’t care what either one of them said. I think it’s pretty pathetic that you do.”

  “Pathetic,” she said.

  “Yes. It’s just fear talking. You let it totally control you.”

  Her face hardened. “That’s not fair. I heard what I heard. Don’t twist it into something about me being crazy.”

  “You don’t admit you have a fear problem?”

  “Of course I admit it! But that’s not what’s going on here!”

  “I feel what’s going on between us,” he said, “and I know what it’s called. I’m not afraid to admit it.”

  “You’re going too fast.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t know me well enough to love me.”

  “I was working on it.” He pointed at her. “And so were you.”

  “Yeah, we’ve had lots of sex. It’s great, but it’s not love. You never talked to me, I never talked to you. Except about my phobias, which apparently you like.”

  “They’re a pain in the ass, but I like you enough to overlook them.”

  Her face went blank. Then she looked down at the floor, walked around the bed, and picked up her shorts. “I need to be alone,” she said, pulling them on.

  “Doesn’t it mean anything to you? That I love you?”

  Her voice was shaking. “You don’t mean it. We barely know each other.” She walked to the door. “You love everybody. You’re just that kind of guy.”

  “And you’re not that kind of girl?”

  “Easy? Impulsive?” she asked. “No. And sometimes, that’s a good thing. A very good thing.” She strode out the door.

  He moved to follow her, tripping over the comforter on the floor.

  It’s great, but it’s not love.

  He stumbled into the living room and cau
ght his balance on the breakfast counter. He heard her bedroom door bang shut. Then the lock clicked.

  This is how she reacts to the idea of me loving her.

  He put a second hand on the counter, then his forehead. He stayed there for a minute, catching his breath, before going back to his room.

  He felt too awful to feel anything at all.

  Chapter 27

  THE NEXT MORNING, NICKI CRAWLED out of bed and immediately hauled her suitcase out of the closet.

  She stared at it. Here we go again. When she’d landed in Hawaii, she hadn’t expected to be on the verge of leaving it so frequently.

  She couldn’t, shouldn’t run. With a deep breath, she shoved the empty suitcase back into the closet and began pacing around her bedroom.

  She’d cried enough the night before; she was through with that. Part of her was ashamed about some of the things she’d done—eavesdropping, for one—but also for how she’d yelled at him when he said he loved her.

  She was still angry about that. He insulted her with one breath and demanded she hand over her heart with the next. It wasn’t irrational to be cautious about love. What did love mean to him, anyway—marriage? A few months of dating back in California? She had no idea, and she wouldn’t call it love until she did.

  She’d hurt him and been hurt, and that put her in an angry feedback loop, not sure whom to blame.

  They had to talk. She got dressed and stuck her head out of her bedroom, listening for him. Not in any of the common areas.

  It was only nine; maybe he’d gone back to sleep on the balcony and was still there. She got dressed and went to look for him.

  No. Not on the balcony. Or in his bathroom.

  She knocked on his bedroom door.

  No answer. She knocked harder. “Ansel?”

  She tested the doorknob; it turned, and she went in like a cop in a movie.

  He wasn’t in his bedroom, either.

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Fine,” she said to the empty room. “You went out. Okay.”

  But an hour later, after she’d taken a shower and put on the mermaid dress and made a pot of coffee, she started to get restless. What if he’d gone out for the day, and she was sitting there looking pretty, just passively waiting for him?

  Brand and Diane might know.

  Shoving aside her embarrassment, she walked out into the hall, strode over to their door, and knocked three times, hard. She commanded her cheeks to stay as pale as a starving vampire, even though she couldn’t stop thinking about the things she’d overheard just hours earlier.