When it came time for the guy’s verse, she leaned back, like her body was signaling there was space for me. I sat next to her and kept singing. I didn’t want to move and spoil the moment. I took her hand — I wanted to be as connected to her as possible — and we sat in the space left after the final notes rang out. She turned to me with tears in her eyes and my stomach dropped. It would be like me to misread this and think it’s awesome when it’s not, but before I can freak out, she kisses me, the pressure of her lips whisper-soft, and sniffles.
“How do you do that? You even manage to make my freak-out-fueled music sessions better.”
“Thank God, I thought I ruined it and made you upset by singing with you.”
“No! I could sing with you forever.” She blushes, but my heart is lightened by the implication. That’s the plan.
“Me too. That was magical. And I love listening to you.” I kiss her lightly. “Hi, by the way. How was your day?”
“I changed my name with the Social Security and on my license. I’m officially Mrs. Cabot.”
“Look at you, being super productive! That’s great. Did you have any thoughts on dinner?”
“Honestly? That was part of my freak out. We never talked about how this would look once we got past the wedding part. So…I played piano instead of figuring anything out.” She exhales loudly, looking embarrassed. “This is always the point when I start making guys frustrated.” She trails off, looking hurt. There’s definitely a story there. “But hey, you can’t up and leave me, we have a contract.” She grimaces as the joke falls flat.
“I’m definitely not going anywhere.” I kiss her again, both to emphasize my point and because I want to. “How’s this? Why don’t you keep playing for me and I’ll make dinner? Then we can talk about what this part looks like while we’re eating. Does that work? I may have been distracted by your body before, otherwise I would have thought to discuss things like this pre-wedding.”
She shakes her head. “There you go again, making everything better. I’m starting to suspect you may be too good for me, Ames Cabot.”
“Obviously I’m the one that married up,” I scoff. “I’m happy to cook if I get to listen to you. I’m going to change real quick and I’ll be right back.”
Searching through the fridge and pantry a few minutes later it becomes apparent that we should have talked about this stuff before I came home. It’s not like me to drop the ball like this. I was confident I could throw something together, but I forgot that she hadn’t been home in 4 days and neither of us stopped at a grocery store.
“Hey, Darlin’ I think I need to make an executive decision here and order out. I want to cook, but I forgot we’ve been gone. I don’t really want to go back out to the grocery store right now. Is that ok with you?”
“I’m good with that. Will you come sit with me while we wait?” Gladly. I call in our order and slide back onto the bench, putting my arm around her waist while she plays. How is this my life? Hot kisses at the pier, piano music greeting me after work, someone to make dinner plans with…it’s everything I’ve been longing for.
Pizza arrives and we take it out on the lanai. After I’ve inhaled a couple of pieces, I grab a notebook and my favorite pen. Apparently Nalani doesn’t have a favorite pen but I’m the weird one. One day into the marriage and I’m already learning things. “Two things: we should make a grocery list and talk about our schedules. Which first?” She’s chewing and signals two with her fingers. “Cool. I usually get home between 4:30 and 5. I have duty once a week on descending days—I can write it down for you. Or we can sync our calendars. I have duty on Thursday this week.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“I’ll go to work like normal on Thursday morning, but I’ll have to spend the night on the ship, work a normal work day on Friday, then come home Friday evening. Then the next week that will happen on Wednesday, and so forth. Also, while I’m thinking about it, cell phones don’t work inside the ship. I can send emails from the computer in my state room. Email can be a whole thing too, but that’s not important right now. I check my phone if I’m outside, but if I’m working below deck, which I often am, I’m not easy to get a hold of on my phone. I’ll give you the number to the quarterdeck. You can always call if there’s an emergency. They’ll get me on the 1MC. That’s the quickest.” She nods thoughtfully, taking another bite of pizza. “Up until now I’ve always worked out as soon as I got home, but I’m not sure what that will look like now that I’m not living over there where all our equipment is. I’ll have to figure something out. I can cook, we can cook, we can swap nights, whatever you want.”
“I like to cook too. Maybe we can see how we feel? We can have a tentative menu planned out, to make grocery shopping easier, but have the freedom to decide once we’re home what we want to eat and how we want to do it. I’d like to cook together, but I’m sure there will be times when one or the other of us may not be feeling it.”
“That sounds perfect. Good idea! I really like the thought that we can have a plan but not feel stifled by it. You know, I think I’m going to like being married to you.” I wink but keep writing. “Anything else about our evenings we should cover?”
“Do you shower at night or in the morning?”
“I tend to shower after I workout. Then I’ll shave in the morning.”
“I shower in the morning, so that works out nicely. What about bills and other expenses? How are we going to deal with finances?”
“Right. That’s a big one. We can go in this weekend ,and I’ll add you to my account. Then you can transfer money if you need to. We can use that to pay bills or whatever.”
“No! I don’t feel comfortable with that, Ames!” She looks shocked.
“Why? We’re married. Wouldn’t that qualify as a benefit?” Seems obvious to me.
“I can’t take your money! There’s no oversight if I’m just on your account! Shouldn’t we open a third account or something? Both deposit money in there and use that to pay bills?”
“That sounds like a lot of extra unnecessary work. I don’t mind setting up the bill pay stuff. I won’t make you do that. Most everything can be automatically deducted these days anyway.”
“It feels really uneven. I can’t contribute what you can, but I’m not a mooch!”
I turn towards her, trapping her knees between mine and holding her hands. “I would never think that of you. And I hope you don’t think I’m lording it over you that I make more money. I merely want things to be easier, to take any worries off of your shoulders that I can. Could we just have a joint account?”
“But what about at the end of the year? I could clean you out!”
“If the contract ends and you want to leave, you can. We’ve already established that. Are you planning on stealing my money and taking me for all I’m worth?”
“Of course not! I’d never do that!” The expression on her face cracks me up. She looks downright scandalized at the suggestion even though it was hers to begin with.
“Then we’re good. I trust you. Will you give me this one, Nalani?”
“Ok,” she concedes. “But I want the record to show that I was willing to have separate accounts. And you’re a little crazy to just trust me like that. What if I’m a terrible person?”
I mime writing down her concerns. “I’m going with my gut here. I know you’re not a terrible person. I trust you. If I’m wrong, I guess it will be a painful and expensive mistake. But I’m not wrong about you.” I grab another slice of pizza, pausing to scarf it down. “I’m sure there are other little things that will crop up as we ease into living together, but I feel like I have a better handle on things now. Ready to make a shopping list?”
We make our list and decide we’ll go together tomorrow since she’s never been to the commissary. We’re working together seamlessly, rarely having to talk through what we’re going to do or how. We clean up the pizza mess and I wash our plates while she gathers up the trash. We tidy up, wat
ch a little tv, and then get ready for bed. Nalani confesses to being a morning person and I have to be since I leave the house by 5:30 every morning. Neither of us are bothered by calling it a night early. It feels cozy, homey, to stand side by side, washing our faces and brushing our teeth. I go to take a quick shower since I didn’t get a workout in this afternoon and think to text Norah before I get in. I haven’t been avoiding her, but I was focused on the bubble. I basically ignored her all weekend. I feel awful when I see that she was texting me Saturday morning to ask for a ride home. Why wouldn’t she have been riding with Ka‘eo?
Me: Hey Nor. I’m SO sorry about Saturday. I didn’t mean to ignore you. This weekend was crazy. What were those texts about? Did you get home ok? Where was K?
When she hasn’t responded after a minute I go ahead and shower and, sure enough, there’s a response waiting when I get out.
Norah-Borealis: It’s probably too much for texts. A lot has happened since Friday night.
Me: Are you guys ok? Do I need to punch K in the junk? I could probably manage one good hit before he kills me with his bare hands.
Norah-Borealis: Calm your fists, we’re good! Can we get together though? Friday night?
Me: That should be fine. I have some things I need to tell you guys too.
Norah-Borealis: Let’s plan for 5:30 at K’s for dinner.
When I come out Nalani is already in pj’s perched on the bed. Fuck, how am I supposed to just sleep next to her like that? She has on a tank top and some small shorts. I’m trying not to outright ogle at the absence of a bra and all that skin. Why does this feel vastly different from the hotel? It isn’t lost on me that she said the same thing about me taking off my tux and shaving naked. It makes sense now. I gesture to my underwear, “I usually sleep like this. Is that ok? Or do you need me to find something else?”
“You’re fine. What side do you usually sleep on?” I can tell by the location of her phone charger and the stack of books that she sleeps on the right.
“The left is fine by me. I’m not picky.” I climb in and she turns off the light. “Is this weird?”
“A little. Why is that?”
“Probably because we’re out of the bubble. It should be the same though. Let’s commit to treating it the same. Can I hold you?” She answers by sliding over, resting her head on my chest. Every time we touch, I want more, but I can sense a hesitancy in her. The last thing I’m going to do is push her. Maybe does not mean convince me. I merely kiss her temple and hold her close until I fall asleep. We have time, we’re married. I’m pretty confident in my feelings for her, but I’m also equally confident that telling her would freak her out. We don’t have to rush anything. I can be whatever she needs.
22
Nalani
We have plans to have dinner with Ames’ two closest friends tonight and I’m extremely nervous. That’s probably an understatement. I didn’t pay attention to the crowd when they were there at The Blue Note Hawai‘i and it feels particularly high pressure. My husband cares about these people. Not only do I hope we get along, we need them to believe we’re a couple. After work, I change my clothes four times and go back and forth with my hair, working myself up into a near catatonic state. I’m lying face down across the bed, trying to calm my breathing, when Ames gets home.
“Darlin’?” Every time he calls me that, in his rich Southern drawl, my insides go all squidgy. “This doesn’t look good. How can I help?” He runs his hand down my back, instantly comforting me. “Do I need to talk you down? Murder someone? Buy you a parrot interpreter? What can I do?”
I lift my face up, wanting to smile at his attempts to lighten my mood, but I’m unable to even muster up enough energy for that small gesture. “I’m super nervous. I keep changing my clothes, and every attempt makes me feel more and more freaked out about tonight. What if they don’t like me? What if I don’t like them? What if they take one look at us and laugh because the idea of us as an actual married couple is completely ridiculous? What if they see right through me and it makes your life harder?”
I’m sure I’m disappointing him. Any moment now he’ll show me how annoying I am by lecturing me on how I need to suck it up, or pointing out that I’m acting childish, or telling me off for always being too negative and emotional. I can’t bear to think of his handsome face, twisted up in frustration. I look up at him, on the verge of tears, and he scoops me up into his arms, holding me in his lap. He doesn’t talk down to me or berate me like I’m expecting — like I’ve experienced time and time again. He holds me and strokes my hair. After a couple of minutes, he cups my face, looking deeply into my eyes. A tear traces down my cheek. I’m that overwhelmed. God, I’m embarrassing.
“You are the best, Nalani. You’re smart, and you’re wry, and easy to talk to. There’s no way they won’t like you. And even if they’re completely nuts, I like you more than enough for all of us. We’ll have each other tonight, we’ll be okay. Let’s um,” he looks up like he’s calculating something, “have a signal. No matter what is going on, if you pull on your left earlobe, I’ll make an excuse and we’ll come home. Do you need help with your clothes? What can I do for you?” He brushes his lips ever so lightly over mine, waking my body up.
The way he’s treating me has already turned things around in my head. I feel calmer, less unsure of myself, and less nervous about tonight. He wants me to feel comfortable and we have an exit strategy if I don’t. He’s caring in action. “I’ve made too much of it. I know it wasn’t really the clothes that were bothering me.” I stand up, showing him my denim shorts and simple, white V-neck. I don’t even get the question out.
“You’re perfect. I like you like this — casually beautiful.” He changes out of his uniform, making me want to drool, and pulls on a pair of jeans that hang off his hips in the sexiest way possible with a blue T-shirt that makes his eyes even bluer. I can’t even talk about how his chest looks in it. It’s problematic. I guess we’re ready to go to his friend’s house and I’m going to keep fantasizing about ripping his clothes off while being the reason we’re not doing exactly that. How can I be so turned on all the time while simultaneously being worried about the reality of our relationship? I make no sense. My lady parts are loving this new facet of my life.
We drive around the bay, up towards the houses on the hill behind Coconut Island. I’m not paying attention to where we are, my nerves building and threatening to crash like a rogue wave. We get out and Ames holds my hand, his touch my anchor in turbulent waters. He leads me up the stairs and walks in, not even knocking on the door. I’m tucked behind him. I try to legitimately hide, but he pulls me up next to him as we walk in. There’s a tall, stunning blonde in the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. In the middle of the room is…
“ Ka‘eo?” He sees me and runs over, picking me up in a giant hug.
“Nalani? For real?” He swings me around in a circle and I bat at his giant shoulders, giggling.
“Put me down, kolohe!” He’s still laughing when the blonde shrieks.
“What the fuck, Cabot? Babe, you’re going to need to pause whatever is happening over there.” Ka‘eo freezes, mid-swing, but still doesn’t put me down. “Ames need to explain to us why he’s wearing a fucking wedding ring!”
“I’d be happy to, Pierson, if K wouldn’t mind putting my wife down.” Ames grins.
Ka‘eo bellows. “Are you fucking with me right now? Did you say you married my little cousin?”
I eye the blonde from my perch in Ka‘eo's arms. “Is this a good time to ask why you’re wearing a ring?” Ka‘eo laughs his loud, booming laugh again until I pinch him and he yelps, dropping me. Ames reclaims my hand, laughing loudly now too. Ugh, his stupid laugh gets me every time, the cute dork.
“Let’s start over,” he finally gets out between brays. “Norah Pierson,” he gestures to the tall blonde, “this is my wife, Nalani, who, apparently, is related to your…fiancé?”
“Wait…” Norah starts but Ka‘eo interr
upts her.
“I think we have a lot to talk about, my Nani, let’s do it over food, ya?” He helps her get the food, kissing her in a manner I’m only dreaming of right now. Lucky ducks. Apparently, they don’t have mental issues hampering their sex life. They set the food on the coffee table, and we sit around it, on the floor. This I’m familiar with. Studio apartment living at its finest.
Norah is patient enough to let us eat some before she starts again. I’m impressed with her self-control.
“Ames, when I left you on Friday you hadn’t been on a date in more than a year. Or was it two? Anyway, how exactly are you married? Where did you even…” She’s been staring at me while talking and she freezes mid-sentence. “Wait. I know you, you were playing piano at The Blue Note Hawai‘i!”
Ka‘eo gets a mischievous glint in his eye. “I know exactly who she is!”
“Of course you do, you big lug, you said you’re related!” Norah slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes.
“Not that.” K is staring at Ames, nodding slowly. “Nalani is HER isn’t she?” Ames joins in on the slow, emphatic nodding.
Like a Good Wife (Oahu Naval Officers Book 2) Page 10