“No, it’s really fine. I was caught off-guard, momentarily. Like I forgot we’re going to have a full, actual, real life together. I’m good now. I enjoy the show.” She winks.
“Are you sure? Do we need to ignore the bubble and start out as roommates with a strange, one bed situation? Oooh, should we look into bundling? Maybe keep a board down the center of the bed? I bet I could find you a super old-fashioned nightgown online. Or I could wear the nightgown like Johnny Rose channeling Ebenezer Scrooge. I think I could pull it off.”
She snorts, choking on her laughter. “No to the bundling. Definitely no to you getting undressed where I can’t see it. It might be easier to focus on sleeping if you’re in an incredibly unattractive nightgown, though. Let’s save that one, just in case.”
“You think you’ll need help sleeping next to me? Do I make you uncomfortable like this, Nalani?” I should really stop screwing with her and put some clothes on. But this is more fun.
“I wouldn’t use the word comfortable to describe my feelings, no.” She clears her throat. I’m partway to laughing, making some joke about how I wouldn’t describe myself as comfortable when she’s in a state of undress either, when something occurs to me, and my brain takes a 180. I sit on the bed next to her, my mind already working through the details.
“I figured it out!”
“What word I would use to describe how I feel hanging out with you looking like that?” She gestures at my body, and I lie back on the bed, waving her hand away distractedly.
“No, no, no. I hope that word is aroused. We can get back to that. I figured out what the issue is with our comfort level. I think we need to amend the contract!” By her face, Nalani did not make the mental jump with me, she has no idea what I’m talking about. “Sorry, let me start over. My brain got ahead of my mouth. How would you normally be feeling by a fourth date?” She’s still looking a little blank, or maybe she’s simply staring at me stretched out in my boxer briefs. Obviously, I’d like it to be the latter. I want her to want me the way I do her. So much. “Like, would there be some kissing? A lot of kissing? Would you be comfortable with some physicality and hoping for more? Or would you be pretty reserved?”
“Uh,” she shakes her head, like she’s trying to focus. “I don’t have hard and fast dating phases. I guess it depends on the guy and the situation. And we would never be having this conversation after already having sex. I’ve never gone there this quickly before.”
“Point taken. Ok, imagine it’s our fourth date, in a world where we never had the bubble. What would that look like? It’s possible you would have been working some weekends, I’d have work obligations, and we’d need to get our schedules to line up. By the time we’re able to go on a fourth date we may have been talking and texting for a month, or more, right? We’d have a lot of interactions built up before that date. Our level of comfort would be different. There probably wouldn’t be many nerves, only excitement. We’d be hoping to get to know each other even better, hoping for more time together, hoping to be alone…”
“I see what you mean.”
“I think we have a false sense of comfort here and it’s confusing. On one hand, we’ve spent a lot of time together and talked more than anything. I feel like I know you really well. And we’ve been intimate. Enough that it’s all I can think about,” she blushes, jerking her eyes off of my torso and back to my face, “but it’s still not the same as slowly feeling more at ease in each other’s presence.”
“So true. I think that’s it exactly.What do you propose, Mr. Cabot?”
“I think we should consider The Bubble as our first date. A long, unconventional, first date.”
“Does that mean first date behaviors would still be the expectation unless we decide otherwise?”
“Exactly! Tomorrow starts second date level familiarity. And we can progress as slowly as you like. I want you to feel comfortable more than anything.”
“Would you normally lounge around in your underwear on a first date?” She smirks playfully.
“Contrary to the impression I’ve given, spending the night with you immediately and marrying you days later, this is not my usual M.O.” I’m still stretched out, though. I like how she’s looking at my body.
“Pants, husband. Put on some clothing while I still have my wits about me.” She dramatically mimes swooning.
“I’ll be on my best behavior, dearest wife. Unless you’re not on yours, then all bets are off.”
19
Amended Contract
Marriage Contract Rules Between
Ames Harrison Cabot &
Nalani Mino‘aka Kimura Cabot
The first rule of the Marriage Contract is don’t speak about the Marriage Contract.
Nalani has final say and authority on all of her medical care decisions.
This original contract will expire in 1 year ending in divorce or renegotiation.
This is a real, legally binding, and monogamous marriage.
Sex is awesome and really fucking hoped for, but not expected or a requirement.
Day 1 of marriage will begin as date TWO and grow from there.
Nalani will take Ames’ last name as that will fit her parents’ expectations.
We will share a bed, regardless of sexual relationship or lack thereof (See Rule 1).
Nalani gets to be the big spoon.
All decisions regarding the couple will be made together.
Murder, She Wrote, and cuddling are non-negotiable.
20
Nalani
I’m surprised I wasn’t outright drooling on Ames’ bare chest while he lounged on the bed next to me. I would have thought he was doing it on purpose, to mess with me, except for the fact that his mind was a thousand miles away, happily working through amending our contract. I like watching his brain work, even if I do end up needing his help to catch up most of the time.
What he said was logical.
It made sense.
It was ultimately wrong, though. I’m definitely not having first date feelings for him.
We spent the rest of the day the way we had spent the whole weekend. We napped, talked, swam, chatted, and bought drinks at the pool for Earl and Mabel to celebrate our wedding. The poolside bar makes a delicious lilikoi lemonade. We watched our girl Jessica Fletcher, and kissed. A lot. So much kissing and yet never enough. Kissing led to more sex, and I have no complaints about that. Holy hell does he know what to do with that body! And mine. I’m feeling like I hit the jackpot here.
I woke up this morning, big spoon to Ames warm, delicious, little spoon and surreptitiously pressed a kiss to his back. It’s stupid how much I want to do more than that. I dress quickly and make sure my stuff is all packed up while Ames showers. He strolls out naked, making me need to turn away and give my hormones a stern talking to, and then stands in front of the bathroom sink, shaving. He is killing me. How am I supposed to stand over here, with that perfect ass taunting me from across the room?
“So,” I ask him, “should I take this to mean you make a habit of standing around naked on second dates?”
“Only with you.” He shoots me a wink through the mirror ,and I think my panties just melted. “And I don’t even want to remember other dates before you. They don’t matter.” How the hell was he single? God, I hope I don’t find out a week from now that he keeps a box with his ex’s fingernail clippings or something. No one can be this close to perfect.
It only gets worse when he puts on his uniform. Holy fucking hell, Ames Cabot can wear a uniform. I didn’t even know that was a thing for me, but apparently it is. It really, really is. He grabs our stuff and still manages to open the door for me and I almost swoon, for real. Like dropping to the floor and needing smelling salts. Thank God he’s not wearing his whites, or I’d be trying to re-enact that scene from “An Officer and a Gentleman” and he’d probably end up hurting his back with the unexpected extra weight.
“You still good with coming with me this morning?�
� He asks, his lips brushing my cheekbone.
“I don’t have any work this morning, it’s really fine.”
“I figured it’d be better to knock out as much admin as possible right away. Get you in the system.”
He drives us over to Pearl Harbor, waiting in the long line of cars at the guarded front gate before flashing his ID and accepting the salute with a nod. I feel like I’m being ushered into a new, entirely foreign world. I never even asked if there would be expectations of me as an officer’s wife. The thought makes me shudder. He navigates over to the pier, parking in a spot with a metal sign with some nautical looking symbols and “TRAINO” on it. Very official.
“This may go better if you come with me. Do you mind?” I hop out and take his hand as an answer. He leads us over the metal staircase thing, connecting the ship to the concrete pier, and salutes before stepping on board. “Captain around?” he asks one of the women standing there.
“It came over the 1MC a minute ago that he was headed this way. Needs something from Dawes.”
“Cool, we’ll wait then.” I feel awkward standing there. Everyone looks official and busy, then there’s me, holding Ames’ hand and feeling a bit like a child being dropped off at school. Ames chats with a good-looking redhead with a brooding air that doesn’t match his appearance. They’re talking about some exercise they have coming up and I follow enough to figure out they’re not discussing working out, but beyond that I have no idea. I guess that’s the Dawes she mentioned. A tall, imposing man strides towards us and everyone straightens up. Ames salutes. “Captain.”
“Cabot! Enjoy your long weekend?” He glances at me, but doesn’t say anything.
“Yes, sir. I got married. This is my wife, Nalani.” The captain offers me his hand and I shake it nervously.
“Pleasure to meet you, Nalani. Not sure what you’re doing with a joker like Cabot, but I guess he’s your problem now!” They both laugh good-naturedly, and I smile, probably looking constipated. I always get so nervous meeting new people and being in unfamiliar places.
“Captain, my guys are good for this morning. Do you mind if I run Nalani over to take care of some admin? I’d like to get her into DEERS.”
“You have an appointment?”
“Yes, sir. Shouldn’t take me very long.”
“Alright then.” He turns back to the woman Ames talked to earlier. “Anyone asks, Cabot is taking care of admin for the next hour or two. I don’t anticipate any issues.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Ames salutes again and we walk back to the car. That was way more peopling than tuning a piano. It makes me appreciate the more solitary nature of my job.
All it takes is way more paperwork than should be necessary for anything, copies of our certified marriage license from the day before, my driver’s license, and I’m walking out with a shiny new military ID for Nalani Cabot. This is officially crazy. I thought changing my name would be a whole thing, but here it’s as easy as putting the new name on the form and showing the marriage license. It’s like it was no big deal instead of the most insane thing I’ve ever done.
We get back to the pier and I realize I’m not sure what happens now.
“Ames? How am I getting home? Is there a bus stop near here?”
“Is that how you normally get around?”
“I don’t have a car. I take the bus to jobs or do a ride-share if there’s a time crunch.”
“Ok, just take the car. I can get a ride home. And I have a motorcycle too. I can drive that most days. so you won’t need to take the bus. It won’t be hard to work it out. No big deal.”
Huh. Over the course of one weekend, I find myself with a husband, a car, and insurance. I think Ames got the short end of the stick in this arrangement. I don’t want to dwell too long and why he did this or ask him what he’s getting out of it. I’m afraid of the answer. I hop out and make it around to the driver’s side and suddenly he’s right there, arms blocking me in, body pressing me back into the car, mouth claiming mine possessively. The metal, warmed from the Hawaiian sun, heats my back as quickly as his affection does. How can I want him so much all of the time? I wrap my arms around him, forgetting that he’s at work and there are certainly people on deck who can see us. His body is all hard muscle against mine and his mouth is soft and greedy. He pulls back and I sigh, knowing the kiss had to end, but wishing it hadn’t.
“What do you think? Did that say newlywed kiss?”
In an instant, I go from lust-filled to completely deflated. That was for show? He announced he got married in front of the captain and anyone else that was around. People can see us. He did say it was very important to him that people believe we are a couple, so he doesn’t look bad. I hate how sad it makes me. My brain is a tangled mess of looping thoughts. How will I ever know what is real and what is for show? We’ve had sex. More than once. It can’t be fake, can it? I can’t take that, anyway. Then again, what are the odds that someone like Ames would truly be this into me? I’m a neurotic mess! We have a contract and nowhere does it mention feelings. I need to get a grip. I nod absently at him, hoping I look agreeable and not dejected. After all, people can see us. The only thing that could make this worse is him knowing I bought into the charade.
“I’ll see you at home.”
Speaking of making things worse, I decide to compound my shitty mood by piling on more official offices and paperwork. Since I can’t feel any worse at this point, I go to get my name changed with the Social Security Administration and on my driver’s license. That kills a few hours and makes me kind of lose my will to live for a bit. I’m also realizing I’m going to need to talk to my parents and that freaks me out. I probably should have thought about that before now. And now it’s hitting me how different my evenings are going to look now. The bubble and critical thinking didn’t really mix, for me.
What does Ames do after work?
Will he expect me to make dinner? Can he even cook?
When does he go to bed or leave for work?
How are we going to handle bills or other financial things?
Why didn’t we talk about any of this?
I get home and the freak out doesn’t slow down. The thing with overload in my brain is that I don’t spiral out of control, I shut down. Decisions, worries, it all gets to be too much, and I cease to function. I know Ames has gotten glimpses of that in the bubble but that was all it was, glimpses. It’s way too early for him to witness a full on Nalani shut down. Although I guess it doesn’t actually matter. What is he going to do? Divorce me? I wish that was funny. Instead, it just makes my stomach hurt.
I have too many questions and I’m still embarrassingly hurt by that hot, only-for-show kiss. What am I going to do? Shockingly my answer is what it always is: nothing. I can’t do anything. I stand in the middle of the room for a while, I get some water, and then I end up curled up on the end of the couch, staring off into space. Finally, I admit to myself that I’m not thinking about solutions, I’m merely letting thoughts glide away from me like water rolling off of a monk seal’s back. If I’m not going to work on the real problems, I should outright ignore them and be honest about my apathy. I move over to the piano bench. Music always gives me peace.
I play for an hour, maybe more. It’s easy to lose track of time in front of a piano. I play whatever comes into my head, sometimes classical pieces, sometimes jazz, sometimes songs I can sing with. Anything to distract my mind.
I play through Brooke Waggoner’s “Sweven.” I love the playful yet haunting melody in the piano and her songs fit perfectly in my range. There’s a small click behind me, but it doesn’t repeat, and I dismiss it, losing myself in the music. I finish that and go straight into “To Love.” It’s my absolute favorite of her songs. Brooke Waggoner fits my feelings right now. Her lyrics and melodies are full of emotion. The music floats around me and I start singing.
“Be bold, be good
Although misunderstood
Don't hide your spots
I've waited so long
For you.
In rooms alone
I've come to know
The face of love”
Suddenly there’s a warm baritone singing with me. Goosebumps erupt across my skin like his voice is caressing me.
“And I've waited so long
For you
I've waited so long
For you.
To love is life
To love is life.”
Ames comes from behind me and sits down next to me on the bench, taking Sanders Bohlke’s part. His voice moves me, rich and warm like his speaking voice.
“Be kind, not cruel
Inside you there's a feud
Love locked, unattended to
And I've waited so long
For you.”
I join him, heart soaring with my voice. I didn’t even know that this, singing with my husband, was something I’d want. It’s like something from a dream I’ve never allowed myself to have, our voices blending together, creating something beautiful.
“And I've waited so long
For you.
To love is life
To love is life.
Be wise, you fool
Be wise, you fool.”
I finish playing, the final notes still ringing out, not wanting to break the spell we cast. I didn’t know he could sing, but I want to do that again as much as I want to kiss him. And more. Ames must feel the same way, at least about the music, because he simply takes my hand in his and sits beside me. It feels like magic.
21
Ames
I’m not sure what exactly happened here, but it feels big. Dawes dropped me off and I could hear piano music coming through the windows. It was a pretty awesome way to come home, actually. Nalani must not have heard me come in because she didn’t even pause. It was like the first time I saw her. She was completely locked onto the music. Her voice was clear and warm and everything about her was enchanting. She finished playing and I walked up behind her, but she immediately started playing something else: a song I recognized from a random trip down a YouTube rabbit hole that led to devouring everything by Brooke Waggoner. I didn’t even question whether I should inject myself into the song. I just did. It came to the chorus, and I was singing with her. Our voices fit perfectly. I should have known they would. Nalani is my perfect match in everything.
Like a Good Wife (Oahu Naval Officers Book 2) Page 9