Down the Shore

by T. Torrest

  He laughs. “Wow. Have we been together so long that you can do that for me? Remind me to get plastered tonight!”

  “Ha ha.”

  I add the pancakes to the stack in the middle of the table. “Eat up. I can’t have you fainting in the middle of your photo session, Miss Macpherson.”

  Jack stabs at the pile, coming up with five pancakes. He slaps them on his plate and slathers them with butter and syrup. Jeez, that boy can eat. Where the hell does he put it?

  Jack stops his chewing when he catches me with my chin in my hand, staring at him. Through a mouthful of food, he mumbles, “What?”

  Damn, he’s cute.

  “I have something to show you.”

  I pull a large folder off the counter and slide it across the table.

  Jack gives me a curious look, wipes his hands and mouth on his napkin, and opens it. Inside is my oversized graph paper notebook which has been flipped a few pages in, revealing the completed sketches of that pink house in Mantoloking I’d told him about.

  “You finished it? No way.”

  He takes the time to really look my drawing over, running his fingers across the paper as if his hand were a miniature person walking through the rooms.

  “Liv... This is really something. Look at the kitchen! Is this what you’ve been working on?”

  I nod my head, more than a little proud. “Mmm hmm. I finally finished it and wanted you to see it.”

  “Wow. This is...” He shakes his head. “...this is incredible. Really, Livia, when you said you liked to draw houses, I didn’t know what to think, but I wasn’t expecting this. I had no idea. This must have taken forever.”

  “Well, I had a lot of time on my hands this past week.”

  Jack still doesn’t take his eyes off the paper. “I love this room on the side with all the faux windows. My music room?”

  “Try photo studio.”

  “Ah. Of course. Is that the master bathroom? It’s huge!”

  “Jacuzzi tub.”

  “Naturally.” He winks. “Have you given any thought about how you’re going to pay for this?”

  No.

  “Hit the lottery, maybe?”

  Jack laughs at that. “Well, it’s a beautiful house. When we hit that lottery, building it will be the first thing on the agenda.”

  We.

  “Sounds good. It’s a deal.”

  “Deal,” he agrees, and then shakes my hand to seal the matter.

  Right then, there’s a knock at the door, so I jump up to greet the Tanners.

  CHAPTER 30

  Date #9: Sunday, July 2, 1995

  1:30ish PM

  The Jetty

  Point Pleasant

  “No throwing sand, Sean!”

  Stephen has just tossed a glob of seaweed in the general direction of his family and I’m trying to stop Sean from retaliating so I can get some decent pictures taken. I want them to be themselves, but I’m hoping they’ll avoid getting injured.

  I’ve been on the beach with the Tanners for over an hour and only about twenty minutes of that time was even mildly productive. I thought the jetty at Point Pleasant would be a beautiful backdrop. Instead, it almost turned into an ugly trip to the hospital. I was barely able to sneak in a few group shots before Jack’s brothers started threatening to throw each other into the ocean. Mrs. Tanner didn’t seem overly worried, but suggested we move back down to the sand.

  I decided to take her cue and just try to relax. This isn’t my first experience with their antics, but Mrs. Tanner has been dealing with the four of them for over thirty years. I guess she’ll know when it’s time to truly panic.

  The boys are goofing around at the water’s edge, and despite how chaotic it seems, I’m actually getting some great pictures. Now that they’re are off the dangerous rocks and I can lay off the disciplinarian role, I’m actually encouraging them to play it up. This is essentially what I was hoping they’d be like when I chose the beach for the shoot, I remind myself.

  “How the heck did you do it, Mrs. T?” Jack’s mother asked me to call her Eleanor but I still don’t feel comfortable about it.

  Mrs. Tanner looks over at her four rambunctious boys. “I haven’t the slightest idea. Livia, do yourself a favor and just have daughters.”

  Mr. Tanner and I laugh.

  It’s a beautiful day at the beach. I’m grateful there’s such a cool breeze down by the water, because I don’t think the Tanners would be so receptive about getting their pictures taken in the sweltering, July heat.

  I brought four super-soaker water guns down for the boys to use as props, and I didn’t have to ask them twice to start using them. I had them roll up the cuffs of their jeans to mid-calf so I could get them at the edge of the water with the ocean in the background.

  As the boys battle it out, knee-high in the waves, I snap a shot of Mr. and Mrs. Tanner arm in arm laughing at them.

  At that point, Jack runs up the beach toward me, throws me over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and charges for the ocean. I squeal for him to put me down, shouting that I’ll kill him if he ruins my camera. He dips me into his arms and proceeds to rock me over the waves.

  “One...”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Two...”

  “Jack! So help me—”

  “THREE!”

  Harmlessly, he lowers my feet into the wet sand before my scream is even complete. I turn and snap a quick shot of his brothers pointing and laughing. Jack still hasn’t released his arms from around my waist and I kind of dig that he’s doing the PDA thing in front of his family. Although, before we get too shmoopy, I give him a quick peck on his smiling mouth and send him back over by his brothers. They are relentless ballbusters, and my mind won’t be able to conjure up pithy rejoinders while trying to concentrate on the job I still have ahead of me.

  I take three whole rolls of film before we decide to call it a day. Without even seeing the finished product yet, I know the shoot has been a success. I can’t wait to develop the pictures but that will have to wait until I’m back at work next week.

  Jack’s father mentions that he and Eleanor want to check out a piece of property in Belmar and suggests that we all go out to The Boathouse for a late lunch. As much as I don’t want to refuse his family, tonight is Jack’s and my last night alone before the girls come down. I feel slightly guilty but extraordinarily relieved when Jack explains, “Sorry, Dad. We’d love to, but Liv’s planning a special dinner already. Can we take a rain check?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Mr. Tanner says. “We’ll get together next week at home when you both get back, okay?”

  Harrison decides to take his parents up on their offer while Stephen and Sean choose to hit Jenkinson’s before heading home.

  Lord help the unsuspecting females at Jenkinson’s tonight.

  Minus Stephen and Sean, we all head back up to the Manasquan house. After Jack’s family does a quick cleanup and costume change, we say our goodbyes.

  Finally alone, I close the front door and slump onto the sofa against Jack’s side. “I’m exhausted! How about you?”

  “Yep. But I’m more hungry than tired.” Of course he is. The man is an eating machine. “Get on it, Wilma.”

  “Crud. I did promise you a big dinner tonight, huh?” I twist into his arm and nestle my lips against his neck.

  A low chuckle finds its way out of Jack’s throat. “Yep. And don’t think you can get out of it now by distracting me. Kitchen, woman!”

  I don’t take my mouth from his skin and slide a hand around his waist instead. “Just let me sit here like this for five minutes and then I’ll have the energy to move.”

  “Livia, if you intend to sit here like this for even five more seconds, I’ll find the energy to keep you on this couch.”

  Normally, that would be fine by me, but Jack knows damn well that after waiting so long, I want our first time together to be perfect. That doesn’t include the two of us nailing each other on the stupid couch
.

  As I take over the kitchen, Jack takes over the television. The Yanks are on. Terrific.

  I throw together a cold roasted pepper salad with fresh mozzarella and artichoke hearts, figuring that will hold us over until dinner. I open a bottle of wine and pour two glasses, delivering one to Jack along with his salad.

  “What do we have here? Mmm. I think I like being waited on.” Jack gives me a grateful smile before diving into his plate. “Damn. I’m so hungry I could eat a sandwich from a gas station, but this looks much better.”

  “I’m so hungry, I could eat at Arby’s,” I shoot back.

  “I’m so hungry, I could eat the ass out of a monkey.”

  “Eww.”

  “Roll over, ya monkey,” he adds, cracking himself up.

  I chuckle as I trim the chicken and prep some veggies, and once I have that going in the pot, I decide to take a shower.

  I’m a little on edge at the moment and I make myself shake it off in order to enjoy what I hope will be a very romantic and special evening.

  Because I know I’m going to sleep with Jack tonight.

  I knew it was a foregone conclusion from our very first kiss, only I guess I never considered that it would take this long. There’s something pretty special about the fact that we’ve waited, though.

  I can’t believe I’m about to admit this, but I’m actually happy we did.

  * * *

  I step out of the bathroom and check in with the dinner progression. Looking good.

  Phil Rizzuto’s excited voice informs me that Bernie Williams has just hit a two-run RBI, and when there’s no outburst from the living room, I realize Jack has fallen asleep. Good. I’ll be able to take my time getting myself ready and tweak our dinner until it’s perfect. I turn down the sound on the TV and get to work.

  In between numerous trips from the kitchen to the bathroom to the bedroom, I manage to finish cooking, get my hair done, and squeeze myself into a strapless, black sundress.

  By the time I put some makeup on my face and some music on the stereo, Jack is awake. I’m expecting him to make a comment about how nice I look or about the beautiful, candlelit table. But instead, his eyes don’t stray from the muted TV as he asks, “What was the final score of the game?”

  Is he kidding?

  “Seven six. Brewers.”

  He exaggerates a yawn and strolls into the kitchen. “Damn. I fell as—Hey! What’s all this?”

  I had my hands on my hips, but now they’re busy fussing with the vase of flowers in the centerpiece and smoothing away some nonexistent wrinkles on the tablecloth. “I told you I was attempting coq au vin tonight. It wasn’t necessarily all that difficult. Kind of a fancypants name for chicken soup.”

  Jack takes the lid off the pot and peeks in. “Well, it smells delicious.”

  “Thanks.”

  He steps behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, swaying a bit to the music. “So do you.”

  “Thanks.” I cross my arms over his and add, “I wish I could say the same for you, Aquaman.”

  “I guess I should probably take a shower, huh?”

  “That would be nice.”

  He stops moving, as if a thought has suddenly occurred to him. “Should I... Do you want me to get dressed up or something, too?”

  He’s on to me.

  I peek over my shoulder and see the leading, unspoken question in his eyes. I wanted tonight to be special, but I didn’t want it to be so obvious. I guess if I felt like conveying a sense of nonchalance, maybe I shouldn’t have decorated the ramshackle kitchen table as if it were being readied for a cover shoot with Better Homes and Gardens. I can’t suppress an embarrassed smile, which is intended to look casual—but instead comes across as guilty—and manage, “If you want to.”

  He turns me in his arms to face him and catches me biting my lip. He gives me a quick scrutiny, decides he has it all figured out and says, “Yeah. I think I do.” A devilish grin preempts a swift kiss. “Meet you back here in half an hour?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Date #10: Sunday, July 2, 1995

  8:54 PM

  The Beach House

  Manasquan

  Jack is leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, taking a breather from eating. He looks positively lethal in his black pants and vee-neck knit shirt. It never ceases to amaze me how he can look so comfortably at ease, so thoroughly male no matter what the setting. Whether he’s in ripped jeans onstage or a tailored pair of slacks at a formal dinner table, Jack exudes an enviable confidence wherever he is.

  Enviable because I, on the other hand, am nervous as hell. I know I’ve slept with guys before, but I’ve never felt this way about any of them. This is a whole new scene for me, and the gamble I’m about to take is making me a nervous wreck.

  I fortify myself with another sip of liquid courage and Jack casually refills my glass.

  “I think the photo shoot went well today. I can’t wait to see how the pictures turn out,” I offer, by way of conversation.

  Jack rolls the stem of his wineglass between the tips of his fingers and nods noncommittally, never taking his eyes off mine.

  “I think your family had fun, don’t you?”

  He curls his lip, still refusing to look away, and offers another nod.

  “How about this food, huh? Does your woman take care of you or what?”

  An unreadable smirk decorates his face. “That she does.”

  “The coq au vin was pretty easy, but I’ve never made asparagus before. I think it came out okay.”

  Livia Chadwick: Queen of Dazzling Smalltalk.

  I don’t know why I’m having such difficulty talking to Jack. Well, I mean, yes, of course I know why. I obviously can’t seem to concentrate on appropriate dinner conversation when my mind is only on what we’ll be doing after dinner. Plus, it’s kind of hard to hold a discussion with someone who’s wearing a shit-eating grin and barely offering any responses to my witty repartee. Through most of our meal, we’d both been preoccupied with eating, but now I’m babbling like an idiot, making inane smalltalk with my dinner guest. Jack seems content to simply sit and observe this phenomenon, for which I could cheerfully strangle him.

  I unconsciously yoink the top of my dress up a little higher and see that Jack is eyeing me curiously.

  “Stop fidgeting. You look gorgeous.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere. Five whole words. But not a conversation does that make. I swallow a bite of my food. “It’s the candlelight.”

  “It’s you.”

  Okay, enough of this.

  “No, it’s you! You’re making me nervous sitting over there with that grin on your face. I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”

  “Can’t you?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Well, you should.” He takes a leisurely drink from his glass. “All I’m doing is patiently waiting for you to finish eating.”

  “Well, thank you. That’s awfully chivalrous of you. But it’s hard to chew when you’re staring me down like that.”

  “You didn’t let me finish.” He folds his napkin and puts it on the table. “I’m patiently waiting for you to finish because when you’re done, I intend to reward your efforts in the kitchen tonight by taking you into that bedroom back there and showing you my, ah... appreciation.”

  I bite my lip, not only to contain my smile, but to stop myself from yelling WHOOHOO! “You seem pretty sure of yourself. How do you know I haven’t changed my mind?”

  “Shouldn’t I be? Isn’t that what you intended to happen here with all this? Isn’t that your big plan?”

  Busted.

  I can’t help but laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Yes. But I will give you some credit. At least you didn’t serve raw oysters.”

  “Well, it is Date Ten. I know we haven’t really talked about it since you first proposed this bet—”


  “Arrangement.”

  “Whatever. In any case, I’ve been keeping track.”

  “Me too,” he says through a smirk. “Technically, it’s only Date Nine, you know. More like Date Eight-and-a-half.”

  “I counted the luau. And I split today into two dates, which, you know, I figured was only fair.”

  “That’s stretching it.”

  “Getting cold feet?”

  “Nope. Not at all.” He aims a wicked grin up and down my body before adding, “I’m going strip that little dress off you just as soon as you give me the green light.”

  I shake my head and chuckle. “Oh, now I get to say when? Jesus, Jack. If I knew you were going to let me off on a technicality, I would’ve split all our dates in half!”

  The Ruffino has started to take effect, and a calm warmth is spreading down my legs and flushing my face. I touch the back of my hands to my cheeks.

  “You’re blushing.”

  I take another sip and motion to my glass. “It’s the wine.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  That has Jack chuckling. “Oh yeah? Well you’re busted. Come here.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in my chair. “Would you like me to clear the table first or were you planning on ravaging me right here on top of the dirty dishes?”

  Jack puts his elbows on his knees as he bends over, shoulders shaking. He composes himself slightly before answering, “I thought we could dance first.”

  “Oh.”

  We’re still laughing as we both stand and I walk into his arms. I rest my hand in his as he slides his right arm around my waist.

  This is nice.

  I can’t remember the last time I slow-danced with someone, and to tell you the truth, I don’t want to try. I’m not concerned about anyone in the past. I’m not concerned about anyone outside that front door. We’re here, in this dilapidated old kitchen with its dark wood paneling, faded yellow cabinets, and crusty linoleum floor. And right here is the most beautiful place on Earth and the only place I want to be. Because I’m dancing in the arms of the most incredible man I’ve ever met in my life.