Summer Ever After

by M. C. Cerny

  “It was about two years ago.” I sigh, putting my arm around Abby to gather her closer to me. I’d have put her on my lap, but this was a public place filled with kids and their parents, not to mention Aryn was kind of feeding four, two hundred plus pounds of animals a bucket of dead fish in front of us. Not exactly comforting or romantic. “I saw her for about three, maybe four, months, and then I broke it off. I didn’t feel what I thought I should to keep it going. It was mutual, but I think she was more upset at the time than she let on.” I wish someone could explain to me why honesty burns like acid in the back of one’s throat.

  “Oh,” Abby mumbles, and isn’t that single word a telling response.

  Chapter Twelve

  ABIGAIL

  So it isn’t the fact Roman’s dated before me—heck, I came to Gold Beach still in a relationship, or so I had thought. It’s different to actually see this side of Roman up close and personal. I hold his hand during the seal show as we watch Aryn whistle and throw various fish at the large silky seals that eagerly jump and perform on command.

  His fingers grazed my hand slowly, reminding me he is here as I delve deeper into my thoughts. She seems like a nice girl, cute and attractive, someone who I could see Roman being interested in if I really thought about it, but I prefer to not think about it too much. I didn’t get that weird chick voodoo, which usually occurs when one or the other is trying to stake a claim on the man. It was nice. Most girls I know, my sister included, are such drama whores. Sometimes, it’s unbelievable the lengths women will go to plant seeds of doubt.

  The seal show ends and we wave to Aryn as we leave the seal stadium, deciding to continue walking around a bit more before having an early dinner. Roman keeps his arm around me the entire time like a caveman. I lov—like his arm exactly where it is. Loving other aspects of Roman will come in good time.

  We exit the aquarium to a much grayer sky, and I am glad he gave me the scarf to wear when the wind picks up just enough to give me a chill in the late-August air. I miss the climate of L.A., but I will miss Roman more when I have to go back, which is something I’m not too eager to discuss with him. I’ve been avoiding the reality of my decision for as long as possible, and I need to figure this out. But first, I have another entirely inappropriate question looming in my mind…

  “So, Roman, did Aryn ever make those seal sounds, you know, in bed?” He stops walking and looks at me like I’m crazy before giving me a twisted little smirk and pulling me in closer, anchoring his arms around me so I can’t escape.

  “No, Abigail, she did not.” He emphasizes the syllables of my name, looking into my eyes. Ugh, his eyes keep me trapped and thinking about what the rest of him would do to me if we weren’t on this busy sidewalk. Heat burns through me and I know we’re both somehow envisioning naughty things. Tentatively, his hand reaches up and slides a loose piece of hair behind my ear before he speaks again. “However, I’ll never think of a seal whistle quite the same way again.” He smiles and my thoughts drift toward choking him in his sleep.

  I wiggle out of his grasp and walk on, taunting him over my shoulder. “So you like to play on command?”

  I take two sashaying steps forward before Roman grabs my arm, tugging me back to slam up against his chest, my breath whooshes from my body. Something simmers below the surface and radiates from his broad chest and the strain of muscles he holds in check. Growling, he reminds me of what it’s like to be alone in the bedroom with Roman behind closed doors. “Negative, Abigail. Have you forgotten who gives the commands?” I shiver from my head to my feet. It’s not the cool Seattle mist or the breeze from the water that makes it happen, and we both know that. I adoringly want to choke him.

  I settle for playfully punching him in the arm instead. “Ugh, men are pigs,” I mumble under my breath and walking away.

  “That’s assault, counselor,” Roman mocks me.

  “Prove it,” I retort, mouthing him right back.

  ROMAN

  Waking up, arching my back, I find Abigail resting her head on my chest, a small hand under her cheek. Her scrunched up face is pink from sleep and beautiful. Blonde hair tickles my bare chest, and I take a few of the strands between my fingers and rub them together, testing their color and silky texture. We’ve stayed in the past few days avoiding the rain and the outside world all together, ordering takeout and enjoying each other’s company. Now I want to take her to see my boats and maybe get her to invest a little more of her heart in mine.

  As I’m enjoying the quite space of time, her phone begins ringing with a low tone. It’s not enough to wake her, but enough that I give in to temptation and pick it up from the nightstand, slipping the charging cord out so I can hold it up. Reading it, it says incoming call from first name: ‘Ex-Lucas the Loser’ and last name: ‘Unfortunate Co-worker.’ I’m glad Abby has a sense of humor. I let it go to voicemail before I scan her call log. Several calls from Lucas show up over the last few days, none picked up or returned. I also notice her dad has called just as many if not more times, again none answered or returned.

  My LA girl is avoiding the reality just as much as I am. A part of me wonders how long we can keep this going. I promise myself to make her answer the next call that comes in so we can figure out what we’re doing, as much as I hate that. I put the phone down and go back to watching her sleep. This could be the last bit of peace we have together in our cocoon.

  “Mmmph…” Abby grumbles a mostly unintelligible something.

  “Wake up, beach bum.” I pinch her hip softly.

  “That’s Hollywood to you.” Her eyes open, still filled with a sleepy smirk, and she stretches up to meet me. Without words, she’s crawling up my body, breasts slipping from her strappy tank top and panties slipping off her hips with each rise and kick of her leg under the covers. She takes my lips hungrily, and I encourage her by helping the clothes vanish between us. Our passions equal, and it’s another reason this girl is so well matched to me. God, I want her to stay in Seattle. I can’t bear for her to go back to LA. If I can keep our little bubble a bit longer, I know I can convince her to make the decision on her own. Our tongues play, rolling and slipping deeper together. I nip her bottom lip to get her attention and move my hand to her free breast, squeezing just enough to get a groaning whimper from her. She’s going to be pissed I got her undressed just to get her in clean clothes so we can go out. I pull her off me to give her the news.

  “Today is boat day.” I peck her mouth again and hold her still to keep her from launching back into my lap, despite how much my dick would love to make contact with her sweet tight center riding me dry.

  “Tomorrow, tomorrow can be boat day.” Abby is pouting, and while I see plenty of advantages to giving in, I decide my cooler head has to prevail before we become mummified in my loft.

  “Toss a couple of days’ worth of clothes in one of my duffle bags and let’s hit the marina.” I tap her rear, and she leans up on her elbows frowning.

  “Did you just spank me, Roman Winters?” Abby is coy and I know what she’s doing as she drags a fingertip down my chest. I roll us over so I am on top.

  “Uh-huh, my girlfriend is being naughty, so somebody has to keep her in check or we’ll wither up and die in here.”

  “Girlfriend?” Her brow furrows and I smooth my finger between the lines.

  “Yeah, you, my girlfriend.” I get her to crack a smile and she’s silent a moment before nodding. Good, I’m glad we got that out of the way. I press my hips and cock into her, letting her squirm and rub against me. The torture is enough to make my eyes squeeze shut for fear of crossing all together. Between tight lips, I tell her in no uncertain terms. “Pack, sea wench, or you’ll be the most unfashionable sailor on board.” I hold her still while she wiggles and tries her best, yeah, her best to get me in a better position.

  “Fine… but I need caffeine.” I make a note that my girl is moody when horny in the mornings.

  “You’re plenty awake. We can grab some on the way.
” I let go of her and run to the shower as she gives chase, only to bang on the door mere fractions of a second before I can lock it. “Pack, Abigail,” I yell through the door, laughing.

  “Argh. You’ll be sorry, Roman Winters!” Whining, she yells from behind the door and I tease her more. She smacks the door hard and I imagine her hand must be smarting from the force of it. It seems like Hollywood has a little violent streak in her when she gets denied.

  Good. To. Know.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ABIGAIL

  Roman Winters thinks he can deny me and I’ll come running. The pain zings up my arm like lightning for foolishly trying to attack him through the bathroom door. Okay, so he is kind of right, as much as I don’t want to admit to anything. It’s been pure bliss these past few days, cozy and holed up in the loft as his girlfriend! That part has me giddy with excitement, with the exception of my phone going crazy.

  I don’t have anyone to share the news with… certainly not my old superficial college friends back home who moved on. They were the kind of friends who got postcards, not intimate details. Lucas sort of claimed them anyway and even the postcards I meant to send didn’t get mailed. I’m not back at work and don’t know if I plan to go back to LA at all at this point despite Dad’s ultimatum. I’m sure I could take the bar exam for Washington or Oregon and maybe move up here or to Gold Beach, or I don’t know. Feelings of guilt sweep through me and I’m conflicted all over again. I’m the girl with the wonderful life to everyone looking in from the outside, but inside, my life is nothing more than a beautiful broken mirror reflecting all the damaged pieces of how I feel.

  The water continues running, so I assume Roman is still in the shower. He’s probably getting himself off so I can’t weasel my woman way into making him stay here in the loft away from the real world. Evil man, he should have learned these past few days that I will do anything to get my way. Roman seems to be able to get me to do his bidding instead because I want to and not because I feel obligated to.

  I go back to the bed and crawl in between the sheets, which are still warm from our tumble earlier. I reach over the bed, hugging a pillow, and grab my phone from the nightstand. The screen is flashing, so I slide the bar across and see a selfie of Roman and me with the Space Needle in the background. We haven’t had a chance to go there yet, and I’m excited to have that as another first with this man. I check my messages. There are several from Lucas and more from my dad. Only one from Leah, and while I’m sure it’s not an apology, I delete them all. My plan is to deal with them after we do whatever it is that Roman has planned on the boat the next few days. LA can wait a little longer; I’m enjoying time spent with my boyfriend.

  * * * * *

  “Let’s take my truck to the marina.” Roman tells me as he picks up my bag along with his and takes them down to his truck. We haven’t driven since we came to Seattle. Anywhere we’ve gone, we walked or took public transportation. It made me think of my car still sitting lonesome in Maddie’s driveway. I left my keys in case she had to move it. “Whatcha thinking about, Hollywood?” Roman slips a lock of my hair behind my ear, and I sigh because his touch is that good.

  “Platypus,” I tell him, thinking of my car, and then I instantly regret speaking the word out of my mouth, covering my face embarrassed.

  “Plat-a-what?” He puts the truck into gear and drives out of the garage under his loft.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Forget I said it.” I feel my face heat up a thousand degrees. Ugh. How will I explain this one?

  “Nuh-uh. You’re not getting out of random comments like that. You can tell me now or I’ll pull this truck over and tickle you until you fess up. I know your soft spots, woman.” He has the gall to smirk at me, and I wonder what I did karmically to deserve this now of all things. He flexes his fingers threateningly and I know he’ll pull the truck over. “Abigail…” It’s my final warning.

  “Okay. Okay!” Roman pulls the truck over and I throw my hands up defensively to ward off his twitchy fingers.

  “I’m waiting…” I swear this man is impossible.

  “It’s, um, my name for my car.” Cringing, I wait for the laughter. Lucas looked at me like I was stupid for naming my car when I had first gotten it and told him excitedly. I do feel stupid.

  “Platypus, huh?” Roman nods his head, adjusting the Mariner’s ball cap on his head, testing the name out as he pulls back into traffic.

  “Platinum Platypus, actually.” I pick non-existent lint from my shorts. “You know, cause she’s silver.” I feel super self-conscious, but Roman isn’t scrutinizing me. He’s just sitting there thinking. “It’s pretty shameless, I know.” I duck my head and hope to God my tanned skin is hiding my embarrassment.

  “Nah, it’s perfect actually. Makes me think I should ask if you would name my boat, though. Not the one we’re sailing on this week, but another one I built that I plan on keeping.”

  “Really?” My voice squeaks. I feel like a moron.

  “Yeah, she’s still in production, so she’s not seaworthy yet, but we can take a look and you can think of something good for her. Boat names are serious stuff, and its bad luck to change them once given.” He smiles while looking at me from the corner of his eye before going back to concentrate on the road.

  “Oh, Roman…” I don’t know what it is, but the fact he trusts me to name one of his boats is pretty cool and feels serious. He turns up the radio as we continue driving, enjoying the quiet company of each other.

  * * * * *

  Pulling up to the marina, I see several things all at once as we drive up to a tall metal gate. Roman uses a remote to open and close the gate behind us and I realize there must be a lot of security for these boats being built. There are several large ships decorated with an anchor logo and the initials R.W. sitting pretty right in the middle. Their beautiful shiny new hauls are sitting in docks waiting to be launched. Crews are busy hosing them down and keeping them pristine while others seem to be doing things people in boatyards and marinas do. Hey, I’m from LA and I don’t know jack about boats except these are big luxury ones like the kind rich people own and charter in the Mediterranean.

  “Oh, my god, Roman, your boats!” I say, pressing my nose to the window, clearly impressed. I look back at Roman who is smiling shyly. “How?”

  “Technically, yachts, but I engineer the designs. I have a nice backer and business partner who lets me slowly buy back shares in my company from the loan he gave me to start up.”

  Yachts. My boyfriend builds fucking yachts.

  “They’re beautiful,” I whisper, looking back out the window. I knew Roman loved boats, but this, this explains so much more about him and why he lives in Seattle but can take so much time off to go home to Gold Beach.

  “Come on, Hollywood. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little water?” Roman gets out of the truck and slowly walks around to my side, opening the door and unbuckling my seatbelt to help me out.

  “Well… you know what they say about a man who makes big boats,” I mutter, and he grabs my hand excitedly, half dragging and propelling me up the dock to the boat we’ll be taking out.

  “Yup, and if you’re lucky, I’ll even let you steer my big wheel.” Roman chuckles and we both know what big cheeseballs we are. “Come on, I want to show you around the deck and cabin before we take off.”

  I follow him as he puts our bags down inside and then takes me back on deck toward the front of the boat. We can see the marina, the little safe harbor we are moored in, and the city of Seattle. It’s a gorgeous view and I take out my phone to take a picture of us. I frown, noticing a text from Lucas. The top half of the message is him telling me I need to call my dad at the office as soon as I get this. It pisses me off, so I slide the screen open and put the camera mode on to take the picture.

  “Here, let’s have Jeb take it for us.” Roman takes the phone from my hand and gives it to one of the crew members. “Smile, Hollywood, you make my boat look good.” Roman nuzzles
the top of my head, kissing me, and I lean into his embrace. God, I really do love this man.

  ROMAN

  Yesterday, we spent the day getting acquainted on my boat. I showed Abby around the deck, crew quarters, and master quarters where we’ll be staying for the next couple days. We sailed out into the Pacific and enjoyed the sunshine. The chef onboard created a delicious meal of fresh salmon and prawns, and we drank far too much wine to be healthy. This morning, I’m feeling pretty hungover in a good way, and my heart feels heavy and at peace while listening to Abby sleep and the ocean gently rock us.

  She is snuggled deep under the covers, and from my angle, all I can see is a mop of blonde hair against the starkness of my pillows and sheets. One arm is over her face and reaches out for the far side of the bed. A gentle snore pushes past her slightly parted lips still puffy from our kisses. The ever slight rocking motion of the boat is like a lullaby, keeping us suspended in time. She is relaxed and quiet, a change for Ms. Bossypants, and a chance for me to admire her.

  “Abby, Abigail…” I nudge her gently, inching my arm around her middle, squeezing.

  “Mmmph.” She mumbles something unintelligibly and I sneak a kiss on her cheek.

  “Wake up, Abigail. You know your arm hanging off the bed is boogieman bait…” I try to pull her closer to my side of the bed and hear her breathing change, waking up.

  “Nuh-uh,” she utters.

  “Um, yeah, so you better get over here so I can protect you.”

  “You’re weird,” she says, not opening her eyes but stretching a bit, and I take that as my cue.

  “Weird?” She knows by now I’m going to retaliate something fierce.

  “Uh, no, just, um… I didn’t say that. Mean that.” I roll over on top of her and push her arms up. “Hiya,” she says, eyes glowing and smiling.