That’s not my dad, especially after spending so much time on a boat at sea.
As we leave magical Madeira and make our back towards Lisbon there’s a certain freedom and relaxation that wasn’t present when my dad was aboard.
It sounds bad to think of it this way, but it was almost perfect that my dad was with us on the way out, when our anticipation and lust were building to beyond a fever pitch, and now we get to make the voyage back in more of a romantic, calm way without him.
A couple days later we pull into Lisbon, docking and back on dry land.
The last two days on the ocean were great.
We made love on the deck under the stars. We drank wine. We sung, we danced, and one day I didn’t even put on clothes the entire time. I just walked around completely nude, even feeling so brave and confident that a few times we stopped the boat and jumped off for a swim.
I could really get used to this way of living.
We discussed our living situation too.
Francisco has plenty of friends and connections in Portugal. Sailing is a very revered and admired sport. It’s not even a sport here, it’s a way of life.
And Francisco promised me I could write the next chapter in the book of my life at the College of Letters. He checked online back in Madeira and realized he knew the head of the department and a few of the teachers and could get me in with a simple phone call.
So it was settled. I’d live in Lisbon and go to school there as well. I’d study the exact subject I always wanted and live with the only man I ever wanted.
Life was perfect, except for my relationship with my dad, but Francisco repeatedly assured me he’d come around, in time.
And now it was time to think positive, about the future, as we walked from the port to Francisco’s place.
I enjoyed that we could just walk and take trams. We could certainly afford a taxi, but there was just something so romantic about hopping on a quaint tram and rumbling slowly through the city, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. Not too many people, and none of them in a hurry whatsoever.
After living in such a fast paced, competitive, consumer country it was a breath of fresh air. Oh…and the air in the city was literally fresh as well, better than what I was used to. Bye bye hay fever and no more sniffling in spring and fall when the drastic season changes come.
We arrive at Francisco’s house and he puts the key in the lock and then his lips are on mine.
He pushes the door open.
“Wait!” he says, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me over the threshold.
“We’ll do this the right way soon, but your first time coming in to our home I had to,” he says.
The indirect mention of a ring has me giddy, and the way he called it our home has my head spinning.
I can’t believe my life has changed so much in just two weeks, and it’s all because of him.
I just wish my dad was here to see it.
“I see what you mean now,” a voice says from the couch and Francisco sets me down and throws his body in front of me raising his hands to fight.
My head turns to the side quickly and I see my dad sitting there.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, completely shocked.
“It’s okay,” Francisco says. “I told him where the key was a long time ago. He’s always welcome here. Can I get you a drink?” he asks.
“If you could pour us all a shot of port that would be perfect,” my dad says.
I’m completely confused and not sure how to approach this.
Less than two minutes later Francisco is back in the living room with three glasses of port, handing one to my dad, one to me, and keeping one for himself, as my dad continues to keep the reason behind his presence in Francisco’s, I mean our, living room, to himself.
“I just want to say I’m sorry,” my dad says, keeping the shot glass down at his waist. “I had a couple days here in the city to think about it and it started to make sense…a lot of sense actually. Looking back now I recognize all the signs on the boat. The build up, the tension, the ‘oh no will Frank find out.’ Well, I found out all right and it was a disaster, but it didn’t have to be that way.
“I overreacted, as I think most fathers would. But how could I be angry? If there’s anyone I trust and admire in this world it’s Francisco. And after telling my baby this hundreds of times of course she’s going to think the same thing. And when she saw him and matched the sounds to the movie? Well, then it was like one of those European film masterpieces, but instead of Marcello Mastroianni and Monica Belluci, it was the two of you. And just like Mastroianni and Belluci they are from completely different time periods, and not even this country or mine, but they would have worked together because their love is timeless and classic, just like I know yours is and will continue to be…and I give you both my blessing, not that you ever needed it.”
“Thank you,” Francisco says, raising his glass. “It means a lot to me. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” my dad and I say together just before we clink our glasses and down the shot.
Francisco wraps one arm around my dad and gives him a big hug from the side, as guys who don’t make a habit of hugging other guys do on those rare occasions when they display emotion to another man.
“Are you sure you’re not a Europhile, Frank?”
“A Europhile?” my dad says.
“The way you were waxing poetic back there about Italian movie stars you had me wondering if you were just buttering me up so you could move here too. The couch is always open, buddy,”
“Very funny,” my dad says, putting his hand in Francisco’s hair and messing it up, but it only somehow makes him look that much more thrown together, rugged, and masculine as heck.
Francisco looks at his watch and pulls out his phone quickly as he searches for something.
“Everything okay?” my dad asks.
“You’re still in town a couple more days, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Up for another adventure?”
My dad looks at me and I look at him. We both smile.
“Sure,” I say.
“Why not?” my dad says.
Francisco motions to the door and just like that we’re off again, ready to check out more of this beautiful country, but the most important thing is we’re all three doing it…together.
CHAPTER 12
Fiona
An hour and a half after we leave Lisbon we arrive in a beautiful little beach town called Nazaré.
The three of us have dinner, and I notice Francisco excuse himself more than a few times. My dad and I joke that he has reverse seasickness.
After we finish a lovely meal my dad stretches saying he’s tired and is going to crash. Apparently Francisco has already booked a couple of rooms at a nearby hotel, and thankfully they’re on completely opposite ends of the hotel and different floors too.
After we pay the check my dad shakes hands with Francisco and gives me a kiss on the cheek, telling me I’ll always be his little girl.
It really touches me and I watch as he takes Francisco’s SUV and drives to the hotel as we set out on a beautiful late evening stroll.
Not more than fifteen minutes later I can hear loud waves crashing up in the distance.
“Is it safe up there?” I ask.
“It’s perfect up there,” Francisco says as he pulls me in close and we continue to walk.
Another few minutes later and we come upon a beautiful lighthouse and although it’s dark it’s easy to see there are absolutely huge waves crashing just off to the side of it.
“They’re huge,” I say, taking in the sight of their power.
“Up to one hundred feet. It’s the mecca in all the world of big wave surfing. It beats out Mavericks in Northern California and Cortes Bank one hundred miles off the coast of Southern California. But those places don’t compare. Where we are now is the best place in the world. The pinnacle. One of a kind…and just like you,” he sa
ys.
I turn back around and see Francisco there, kneeling in the moonlight holding a tiny black box open.
A diamond ring sparkles inside, only matched by the sparkle in his eye as the moonlight reflects off the vertical wave faces, into his eyes, and right into my heart.
“Beautiful, in room full of art, I would still stare at you,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “And nature gave us its most beautiful creation, when it shared you with the world. But I’m selfish, greedy…I want you all to myself. I want to kiss you forever, just like the ocean next to us kisses the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away. And with this ring you’re never going away. You’ll be here forever. Here meaning by my side, no matter where this crazy little adventure called life takes us. Let’s do this forever, side by side, you and me. Marry me,” he says.
I hold out my hand and he slides the ring on. I just stare at it. “Yes!” I say, realizing I was so caught in the moment, so stunned that he literally took my breath away. The ring is beautiful, understated, and perfect, but no one will ever ask who I belong to…they’ll know.
He picks me up and spins me around in a circle before kissing me right on the lips.
“The fairly tale never stops,” I say, thinking how he’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted, and never expected.
“No it doesn’t,” he says pushing a lock of hair off my cheek and behind my ear. “Not as long as you’re by my side, and now that there’s a ring on your finger there’s no question that’s where you’ll be…right where you belong. Forever.”
Even through the crash of the waves I hear a buzzing sound, I look up and see a drone.
“What the heck?” I ask.
“It’s my friend. Don’t worry. He’s the one who picked up the ring and brought it to me during dinner. That’s why I had to step out so much.”
“That’s where you were?”
“You thought I wasn’t feeling well?”
“That’s what we were wondering.”
“Wonder no more. Just always know that when we’re together things couldn’t be more perfect…just like they are right now.”
We kiss again and the drone passes back overhead.
“I can’t wait to watch this moment over and over and over again,” he says.
“Can I watch it with you?” I tease, giving him a wink.
“You’ll be right there with me on the couch, wrapped up in my arms…every…single…time.”
“Unless I’m changing diapers,” I say.
“We’ll keep a crib in the living room so our child feels the love its parents used to conceive it and bring it into the world.”
“You think he’ll be a surfer?” I ask.
“I think he or she will be whatever they want, because we’re going to love it, support it, and give it the best life ever, in our house full of love,” he says.
I melt into his arms knowing I’ve found the perfect mix. He’s a big, strong, possessive manly man, but when we’re alone he can really get romantic, but only with me.
Because I’m the only one who can do that to him, and him to me.
I found my perfect pairing right when I wasn’t even looking. He’s most definitely my perfect possessive Portuguese partner.
Forever, no matter what explorations and adventures lie ahead.
EPILOGUE
Francisco
Three months later
“Do you think I should start with the part where we sailed around the coast and into the Mediterranean or the part where we dropped anchor and swam off the coast in the south of France.”
“I’m Portuguese, and a man, so I’m always going to go with the adventure. Knowing your professor I think she might like that approach too. Catch the reader right with the first word and never lose their attention.”
“My writing partner, João, suggested the other way.”
I feel a tightness in my stomach as I drop the printout of her first draft on the table. My hands tighten and I have to stand up.
“Who is João?”
“My writing partner. The professor said we should pair up and compare work.”
“The only pair, is us,” I say looking for my phone to call the professor.
“He’s just a school boy my own age,” she says.
“Writing is a solitary pursuit,” I say as I move into the other room. “Did Hemingway have a writing partner?”
“Those fish.”
“Fish get eaten, and so will João if he tries anything,” I say.
I send a message to my friend, Fiona’s professor, to let her know I can help Fiona with any and all assignments going forward. We’ve known each other for years and I know she’ll honor my request. I count backwards from ten trying to calm myself, but I can’t. I message her again asking her for some information on this João kid.
Walking back into the kitchen I can’t help but notice my wife’s belly. It’s getting bigger by the day and the sight of it immediately calms me, thank god.
I can only imagine how possessive and protective I’m going to get once I’m a dad.
If it’s a girl she’s not dating until she’s thirty-eight. I had no reason to and neither will she, not to mention I never dated in the traditional sense of the word. I waited my whole life, met the one, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.
I’m having a blast working on these writing projects together with Fiona. She even jokes that she’s just the face and that secretly we share all the work.
Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? The man is supposed to be a real man, doing what he does in the background and not asking for or taking any of the credit. That’s what being a man is all about in the first place.
And when she brings home assignments where the professors have commended her on a job well done, the pride inside me swells as I watch how happy the success makes her feel. That’s how I want her to feel forever.
And together we’re going to keep traveling, keep exploring, and keep coming up with ideas that stimulate her unconscious and creative mind so she can create and tell her stories to the whole world.
It’s got to be good for our child’s brain development too.
There’s nothing better than when something we both love to do is good in every way imaginable, and that’s exactly how I’d describe her.
Since she came I’ve gone from good to great. I’ve reached levels of happiness I never even knew existed, because they wouldn’t have existed without her.
When I won a regatta a couple weeks ago it was her hugs, and kisses, and cheers of, “You can do it,” that turned another trophy into something special for the first time.
Winning and putting the trophy at home on my mantle after a night out celebrating with the other guys was how it used to be.
Now, bringing home that visualization of what we accomplished together is priceless.
She’s the one who’s got me eating better, even cooking multiple nights of the week.
She’s the one who rubs the knots out of my back and shoulders from all the manual work it takes to work a sailboat.
She’s the one who stays up late at night with me, watching the ocean looking for any advantages due to wind, waves, or anything else we can discover.
And I’m right there with her, as we write the most important story together…the story of our lives.
And in just six more months we’ll welcome our first child into the world.
Because Portugal allows dual citizenship our baby will already have a head start, having the right to live in two different countries in the world.
As for me? There’s only one place in the world where I want to be, and you can’t find it on a map.
That’s because it’s in her heart, exactly where she is in mine.
My queen. My wife. My love. My life.
Forever.
Possessive Portuguese: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 86) Page 6
