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Jake
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I laid in my bag and couldn’t stop smiling. She’d been watching. I had caught her looking. At least, I thought I had. I was pretty certain there was a figure in the window when I came out of the water. She could pretend to hate me all she wanted, but there was a spark. I wasn’t going to try and fool myself into thinking there was anything between us or ever would be, but there was the spark of a human inside that woman’s beautiful body.
She could be cold and ruthless, but for the first time this afternoon, I saw a side of her that proved she was human. She was a woman with walls. I could totally get that. It was an effective way to protect oneself. I wish I would have been better with walls. Unfortunately, I was not a man who did walls. I was just out there to be stomped all over.
It was a nice, calm night. The sky above me was littered with stars. It was stunning. I wished I was talented enough to take a picture of it, but a picture wouldn’t do this view justice. This was the kind of view that you had to carry with you in the back of your mind. When I was having a bad day or Amanda was giving me hell, I was going to close my eyes and remember this picture.
I wondered what Gabby was doing. Reading a book? Taking a bath? It didn’t matter. I was here for me. I had to stop thinking about her and what she was or wasn’t doing. The gentle sound of the waves sent me back in time. Back to a time I didn’t mind remembering. It wasn’t necessarily a good memory, but one that I wanted to keep at the forefront because it was a life lesson. I let myself drift into the memory.
“Damn, I hate that smell,” Amanda complained as I carried our bags into the small house on the beach we had rented for our honeymoon.
“It’s the ocean, baby,” I said with a laugh.
“It smells like nasty fish,” she retorted. “I’m closing the windows. I hope this place has some air fresheners. I cannot spend an entire week here. It’s musty. Do you smell that? Like dirty socks and dead fish.”
I dropped our suitcases and pulled her into my arms. “It smells like the ocean,” I said. “You’re just used to the smell of exhaust and trash. This is what fresh air smells like.”
She pouted in the prettiest way. I gave her a quick kiss. “You’re so good to me,” she said with a little smile. “I’m freaking out and you’re trying to calm me down.”
“I want us to enjoy this week,” I told her. “One whole week with just the two of us. No one is going to bother us. It’s just me and you. It’s been too long since we got to just be us. We don’t have to go out with friends and be the perfect couple. We don’t have to schmooze business investors. It’s just Jake and Amanda, those two crazy kids who fell in love a couple of years ago.”
“I know,” she said with not as much enthusiasm as I hoped. “I’m just tired. It was a long drive. I want to be here with you. We need this. I just wish we could have flown to shorten the travel time. I hate traveling in the car.”
The drive had been three hours. I understood this wasn’t her dream honeymoon, but it was what we could afford, and I was so happy to have my bride away from the city. Away from her job and all the damn clients that constantly called her. She was my financial advisor and I had never called her that many times. We always said we were going to take a week off, but it never happened. I wanted to show her the other side of me. The man beyond the athlete and now business owner. She just didn’t seem to care for that part of me.
“Why don’t you go change?” I said. “I’ll pour us some of that fancy champagne we got from the Michaelsons. We’ll sit down and just relax.”
“Fine,” she said.
I followed her into the bedroom with our suitcases. She spun around to look at me with disgust on her face. “I thought this was a suite?”
“It’s a cabin,” I said. “It’s a master suite because the bathroom is attached.”
She forced a smile, but I saw the look of disappointment in her eyes. “You’re right. I’m being too critical. I cannot wait until we get to buy our first apartment. As soon as this year is behind us, I know the profits are going to start rolling in. I’m thinking something overlooking the park. At least three bedrooms. We have to have a doorman.”
“Babe, no shop talk,” I said. “We agreed we weren’t going to talk shop.” Amanda was spending the money we had yet to make.
“Okay, okay,” she held up her hands. She gave me another kiss before pushing me out of the room.
I opened the bottle of champagne and poured us each a glass. While she changed, I stepped out onto the front porch of the cabin. There was an odor. I would give her that, but I could still smell the freshness of the air. I had been craving the ocean for two years. For two long years, Amanda and I had been building my company. She insisted on working all the time. We managed to plan a wedding, a very small affair, but that was it. Amanda was the motivation in this adventure. She had pulled strings and reached out to connections to get the capital we needed to start the business.
Technically, I had the capital, but she said I needed more. I was leaving it to the expert. She knew what she was talking about. I was just the guy with the startup money and the name. My Olympic bronze gave me some credibility. At least that’s what she said. That’s why she insisted we bust ass and move fast before my name faded from people’s memories.
I wasn’t as excited to start a business, but she was very convincing. And I loved the woman. I checked the time and realized she’d been in the bedroom for quite a while. I left the porch and walked to the bedroom. I listened at the door and thought I heard her talking. I pushed open the door and found her on the phone with her back to me.
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s okay. I’ll be back in a few days. I’ll call you as soon as I’m home.”
“Amanda?” I said her name.
She jumped and spun around and actually attempted to hide the phone. “Jake!”
“Who was that?” I asked.
“What? Who?”
“On the phone,” I said.
“Oh, it was Geri,” she said nonchalantly. “She had a question about a client.”
“Doesn’t she know we’re on our honeymoon?” I asked. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there was an uneasy feeling. I pushed it away.
“I’m sorry,” she said and kissed me. She kissed me until I forgot all about the phone call. All I could think about was my lovely bride. She kept me in bed and thoroughly satisfied for the rest of the day. I was a man in love. I didn’t care about anything except being with my beautiful lady. We were bound to have some misunderstandings and rough times. I didn’t care. I loved her and I was in it for the long run. I was determined to make the marriage work.
“Damn fool,” I muttered as I landed firmly back in reality.
The day I found her in bed with her now boyfriend, every little moment and incident came flooding back. The honeymoon had been a red flag and I was such a complete, lovesick fool, I ignored the signs. Those little moments had plagued our entire marriage. She always had an explanation and a reason. I never questioned her. I should have, but I just wanted to keep the peace and chose to play dumb. It was why I made myself relive those moments. I needed to get better at reading people. I had to start listening to my instincts.
The first day of our honeymoon was a preview of the last thirteen years of my life. All the sneaky phone calls and the late nights at work. She often had overnight business trips. I never questioned her. She acted like she loved me. I knew I loved her. We got along for the most part. Our marriage was uneventful, to say the least. We both worked a lot but when we did see each other, it was good. Maybe good was an exaggeration. It was decent. We had enough in common to have something to talk about when we were together. It was easier to talk about the business or her many social events than to talk about us.
Looking back, I realized I was going through the motions. I loved her, but I hadn’t been in love with Amanda for a long, long time. I was in love with the idea of being married to someone who could be my partner in life. Unfortunately, she saw me as her personal bank account. Every time she wanted something, I bought it. I spoiled her. It was me trying to buy her love. Boy, did that backfire.
The sex had fizzled a few years into the marriage. I couldn’t even remember what sex was like with her. We started out hot and heavy. I remembered the days I thought I would die if I didn’t get to take her to bed. I had been a horny nineteen-year-old kid in love. Sex pretty much dominated my thoughts. She used that to her advantage. I was malleable and would have done anything for her to get the chance to be with her. The sex got lame and I didn’t care enough to try. That was another red flag. I should have known she was getting it somewhere else. It was the last thought I had before sleep claimed me.
When I woke the next morning, I was resigned to the fact Oleg wasn’t coming until Monday. I accepted it and made the best of things. We spent the next few days seeing each other in passing and exchanging pleasantries, but nothing more. I occasionally used the kitchen and showered when she was out taking a walk. She made sure to avoid me. I didn’t mind. It was better we didn’t talk to one another. I didn’t want to risk pissing her off in some way and inciting her wrath once again. What we had going on was so much better. The stay on the island was actually enjoyable. I didn’t even care that I didn’t get to sleep in a bed. Last night, I slept in the hammock, and it had been pure heaven.
Tonight, was my last night on the island. Tomorrow, Oleg would show up and I would have to say goodbye and keep to our agreement. The bottle of scotch was still in my bag. I told myself I was going to save it until I could come back. But I wasn’t sure I was going to come back. The novelty had worn off. The bloom had been plucked. I was going to find another place to take my long vacation. This wasn’t going to work for me anymore. As soon as I got home, I would start my search for another island retreat.
I went about settling in for my last night. I planned on being good and hungover when Oleg showed up tomorrow. Then it would be my own bed tomorrow night. My week of island living would be over. I pulled the bottle from my bag and stared at it for several seconds. She was up there by herself. She would have the next three weeks to be alone. Tonight, we could celebrate my departure.
I carried the bottle up to the cottage and knocked on the door. She opened it wearing the usual tank top and shorts she always wore. I could see the hint of her bikini string poking out from under the strap.
“Hey,” she greeted.
“This is it,” I said.
“What’s it?”
“This is the last night on the island for me,” I told her. “I was thinking I’d go out in style. I’ve been saving this bottle of scotch for a while. I had planned on busting into it the first night, but it just didn’t feel right.”
“And tonight does?” she asked. “Do you want a glass?”
I smirked. “I don’t want a glass. Do you want to drink with me?”
“Um—”
“You get to celebrate the fact I’m leaving,” I said. “I get to drown my sorrows because I’m leaving. It’s a two for one kind of thing.”
If she said no, I was going to break into the bottle anyway. If she said yes, then my night would be just a little better. Either way, I was drinking the damn scotch. I was tired of carrying it around.
