Micaela searches my eyes for several seconds, for what, I’m not sure, but she must find whatever it is she’s looking for because she nods once. “Okay, help me forget.”
“No,” I correct her. “I’m not going to help you forget. You will never forget, and you shouldn’t. You love him. He’s a part of you and always will be. I’m going to help you move forward.”
“And what will I help you do?” she breathes. A million thoughts come to mind, all of them completely inappropriate, so I push them away.
“Relax.”
“Relax?”
“Yeah, your dad thinks relaxing will be good for me. Taking time for myself. You can help me do that.” She’s already doing that and she doesn’t even know it.
“Okay,” she agrees. “And the first step of relaxing and moving on is…” She raises her body and lets go of my neck. Her hands come up and push on the top of my head. At first I’m confused, but then it hits me… She’s trying to dunk me into the water. Silly girl, doesn’t she realize who she’s messing with?
“That’s cute,” I taunt. “My turn.”
Realizing her efforts are futile, and I’m not going under, she resorts to plan B: run, or in her case, swim. She lets go of my neck and pushes off me, attempting to swim away, but before she can get far, I grab hold of her ankle and pull her back to me. Then, lifting her into the air like a rag doll, I throw her a good three feet away.
“Oh my God!” she shrieks when she comes up, bobbing up and down in the water. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“I thought you would want to be released like that fish you saved.” I laugh.
“Real funny.” She glares. “Just remember paybacks are a bitch.”
“Bring it, sweetheart,” I yell as I watch her sexy ass swim to shore. And with that thought, it hits me. I just suggested spending several days in a beach house alone with that woman.
A woman I shouldn’t find sexy but do.
Who is off-limits, but has me wanting to be near her.
And she agreed.
What the hell was I thinking?
Micaela
“C’mon, slow-poke, you need me to carry you?”
I’m following behind Ryan up the beach, but since my tennis shoes got soaked in the water earlier when he threw me in, I’m barefoot and my feet are sinking into the sand.
“Maybe if you hadn’t thrown me in with my shoes…”
“Get on.”
I glance up and almost run into Ryan’s back. “What?”
“Get on,” he repeats. “We have another half-mile to the pier and you’re taking too long.”
“What are we even going back there for? I’m not fishing again.”
Ryan chuckles. “It’s a surprise. The first step to you moving forward.”
“Fine, but it’s technically my second. My first is no more crying.” I hop on his back and snake my arms around his neck. “Giddy up.” I make a clicking sound and quickly squeeze my thighs together. Ryan laughs and takes off like a horse.
When we get to the pier, I notice it’s busier than it was earlier this morning. He drops me on my feet and takes my hand. I think it’s only to guide us through the throng of people, but I can’t help but focus on how my hand feels in his. The last hand I held was Ian’s, and that was years ago when we were both in high school. His hand was soft and gentle, untouched, the opposite of Ryan’s hand, which is rough and strong, callused from years of working with his hands. I don’t know what it is about his touch, but it instantly calms me. Makes me feel protected and safe. Like he could easily shield me from anything life throws at me.
When we arrive at the end of the pier, he lets go of my hand, and I want to thread our fingers back together. Something about him, his presence, makes me feel less alone. When he told me he would help me move forward, for the first time I felt like it was actually possible.
“What is this?” I ask, taking in our surroundings. There are several booths and tents set up around the perimeter of the pier. I didn’t notice this before because we didn’t make it all the way to the end of the pier.
“The Venice Oceanarium. I saw a flyer for it. They call it the museum without walls.” Ryan entwines his fingers with mine once again and steers us over to the first booth. “What better way to take your first step forward than to remind yourself why you need to graduate college?” He glances over at me, a confident smile on his face, and my insides turn into mush.
“Hello,” a sweet woman, who’s wearing a red jacket with a logo that reads Venice Oceanarium, greets us. “Would you like to take a look?” She points to the booth with a microscope and several pieces of marine life placed all over the table. “All of these were found right here in the Pacific Ocean.”