A Love Like Ours

by Micalea Smeltzer

  I shake my head rapidly back and forth. “It’s not your fault.”

  He takes my face between his large hands. “It is. It is,” he repeats. “You should blame me.” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “I deserve it.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “What happened kills me, Ollie. It hurts so much. But you didn’t have anything to do with it. You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t stand above me and laugh as I bled. All you’ve ever done my whole life is save me. You’re the light in all of my darkest memories. You are the reason I get up every day. You are the reason I smile and laugh and love. Please don’t blame yourself for this. Please don’t,” I beg.

  His tears soak his face, and I’m sure mine do too.

  We’ve spoken about what happened that day many times, but I think we both always held our true feelings back, too scared that we might hurt each and ourselves if we dug too deep.

  “You know who I do blame?” I don’t wait for him to nod; I just keep speaking. “I blame the man that did this. I blame the man that held the gun in his hand and shot innocent people, all for some agenda we’ll probably never understand. I blame him. And honestly? I hate him too. I hate him so much some days that I’m scared the hate is going to eat me alive. He did this to me, to us, not you. Do you understand me?”

  Tears continue to stream down my face and I can barely speak but Ollie nods the slightest bit, his eyes pained.

  “I almost lost you,” his voice cracks. “I don’t want to live in a world without sunshine and that’s what you are.” His fingers tangle in the hair at the base of my neck, pulling me closer so that my forehead is pressed to his. “We lost so much that day—our baby and our trust that there is such a thing as happiness in this world. I don’t want to keep letting that day beat us. I want us to learn to trust ourselves again, that it’s okay to be happy and not just pretend.”

  “We’ve both been pretending for so long, haven’t we?”

  He nods sadly. “It’s not us. This isn’t us. We need to let it all out—let it go.”

  “I don’t want to forget,” I whisper. “I don’t want us to pretend the baby never existed.”

  He shakes his head, his hold around the nape of my neck tightening. “Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. Letting go means you refuse to let the weight of those memories tie you down. Letting go means freeing yourself from the bad, but not the good, and our baby was the purest thing to ever happen to us. We won’t forget, but we need to remember her in the right way.”

  I swallow thickly, fighting back more tears, but it’s futile since they course down my face anyway. “Her?” I repeat, latching onto that single syllable.

  He shrugs. “I know we didn’t quite far enough to find out if it was a boy or a girl, but from the moment you told me you were pregnant I felt like it was a girl.”

  I sniffle. “I did too.”

  He pulls me in closer and presses his lips softly to mine. His lips the slightest breath away from mine, he whispers, “Let it go.”

  I scream.

  I scream and scream and scream.

  And he screams with me.

  I’m not magically healed and everything isn’t perfect, but for the moment, it sort of feels like it is.

  Machu Picchu was everything I dreamed of and more.

  It was awe-inspiring and took my breath away. I even shed a tear because I was so overcome by the sheer beauty of it.

  We spent hours there, walking around the ruins and taking photos. Neither of us could get enough but eventually we had to leave so we could start the journey back to our original hotel in Lima. If we didn’t have tickets for Costa Rica waiting for us to fly out tomorrow, I’d beg him to stay another night here.

  But the adventure must continue.

  We’ve both been in better spirits since last night.

  I think my unintentional mention of Mo’s and subsequent run out of the eatery was the best thing that’s happened to us in a while. We needed things to come to a head, for us to both finally burst and have everything we’ve been feeling come out. I’m sure we have many more conversations about that night ahead of us, but for now, we’re okay—actually, we’re better than okay, more like good, and I’ll take good over okay any day.

  It’s late when we finally make it back to our hotel in Lima.

  We’re both tired, sweaty, and starving.

  So like the night we arrived, I shower and Ollie orders food service.

  I take longer in the shower than I should, but the steaming hot water uncoils my tight muscles. I lather my body until I smell only of coconut soap and there’s no longer even a trace of sweat. I get out and wrap one of the fluffy towels around my body then brush my hair and gather it up in a bun on top of my head. My pajamas sit on the counter and I dress in the pair of shorts and tank top.

  Ollie is sprawled across the bed when I come in and he turns his head slightly, looking up at me with a small smile.

  My stomach clenches as butterflies assault it.

  I pause beside him and he grabs my leg, running his hand up from my calf to my knee, stopping at my thigh.

  I reach out, dragging the back of my fingers over his cheek. “I love you,” I whisper, biting my lip.

  His eyes move up my body until they connect with mine. “I love you too. Even more than Cheetos.”

  I bust out laughing and his hand drops from my leg. “God, Ollie, leave it to you to take a romantic moment and make it funny.”

  He shrugs, grinning. “I can’t help it.” He sits up. “I’m going to shower. Hopefully there’s some hot water left,” he jokes with a smile.

  “Sorry.” I smile sheepishly as he disappears into the bathroom.

  While Ollie’s in the shower, the food arrives and I open the door to let the guy in. He carries the food in and leaves it on the table before immediately disappearing out the door again like he’s not meant to be seen or heard.

  I glance at the food Ollie ordered and I laugh when I see that it’s another grilled cheese sandwich for each of us. I only hope it tastes as good as the first one.

  He comes out of the bathroom only wearing a pair of boxers sitting low on his hips. His chest shimmers from the shower water and his hair looks darker since it’s wet.

  “Grilled cheese?” I raise a brow, trying not to smile.

  He shrugged. “I was curious to know if it tastes as good the second time.”

  I grab my plate and carry it over to the bed, stretching my legs out and laying the plate in my lap.

  Ollie joins me and takes a massive bite from his sandwich—he nearly devours half of a piece in one bite—and then smiles at me around the bite so all I see is a mouthful of cheese and bread.

  Most girls would probably cry ew and make a face, but not me. Oh, no, I smile right back at him so he sees my half-chewed food. I make my eyes really big and then squint them and Ollie chokes, trying not to laugh. He manages to chew and swallow the bite and presses his hand to his chest.

  “Thank God I found a girlfriend that’s just as weird as me.”

  I swallow my bite and poke the dimple in his cheek. “Thank God I found someone that can keep up with me,” I jest.

  He makes a growling noise and bites my finger playfully. I pull it back and take another bite of my sandwich.

  “I think it’s just as good as the first one,” I say.

  He leans back on the pillows and takes another bite too. “Mmm, I’m not so sure. I think it could use some more cheese.”

  I laugh and eye the cheese oozing from his sandwich. “Really, now?”

  He grins. “You can never have too much cheese.”

  I shake my head at him and finish my sandwich. I have to wash the grease from my fingers when I’m done and then I burrow beneath the covers, pulling them up to my chin. Ollie cleans up and turns off the lights before climbing into bed beside me.

  He scoots closer to me and I drape one of my legs over his, burrowing against his side.

  His chin rests on top of my head and I fe
el him blow out a breath.

  “Costa Rica,” I whisper. “Where do you think he’ll send us after that?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m sure it’s going to be amazing.”

  “Amazing,” I echo.

  Amazing sounds a lot like fun and we need that.

  “It’s official, Costa Rica is my favorite fucking place on Earth,” Ollie breathes, looking around in awe.

  Liam booked us a bungalow right on the beach and the view is breathtaking. Large doors fold open to reveal the sand and ocean just outside, and more than that, there’s even a small private pool and hot tub that’s only for us. Each bungalow is also spaced out with enough greenery that you don’t even have to see another human being if you don’t want to.

  The inside of the bungalow is almost as nice as the view. The ceiling goes up into a dome-like shape with wood boards crisscrossing the space. There’s a small sitting area with a wicker couch that has white cushions and a matching loveseat with a TV. A small kitchen with a table for two takes up another portion of space and by the folding doors, right in front of the view, is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. It’s a four-poster bed in dark wood surrounded by mosquito netting. The bed covers are all fluffy and white, adding to the beach vibe. I haven’t poked my head in the bathroom yet, but I’m sure it’s beautiful too.

  Ollie steps outside and I follow him, breathing in the salty beach air. It smells different than the Malibu beach air—cleaner and less saturated.

  Two surfboards lean against the side of the bungalow and Ollie looks toward me with a slight smile. He doesn’t say anything, however, even though I can tell he wants to.

  I haven’t been on a surfboard since before everything happened. Liam knows this, and yet he arranged for there to be two surfboards here. I want to be mad at him for trying to push us—push me—but I know he means well, and frankly, I can feel an itch building beneath my skin. I miss surfing. I miss the freedom being out in the ocean on a board fills me with.

  Ollie takes my hand and we start walking past the pool and toward the sandy beach.

  Just before we’re past the pool completely, he moves lightning fast and wraps his arms firmly around my body, propelling us both into the swimming pool.

  The water is warm but that doesn’t make the experience of plunging into it any less jarring.

  Ollie lets go of me and we both swim to the surface.

  When I emerge, I push his shoulder. “What was that for?”

  The idiot is laughing his head off, not at all bothered by my anger.

  He shakes his head like a dog, showering me in droplets of water.

  “You’ve got to learn to live a little again, Tal. I’m just trying to help you out.”

  I shake my head and splash him. He chuckles, wiping the water from his eyes. I start to swim away and his hand wraps around my ankle, tugging me back.

  “Ollie,” I whine.

  “Come here,” he pleads, until I’m in front of him and then guides me to wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck so we’re eye to eye. A droplet of water drips from his nose and splashes into the water.

  He wraps one of his hands around the back of my neck and urges me forward so he can kiss me.

  I fight him at first—because he pulled me into the water—but it’s impossible to stay mad at him for long. He’s too adorable for his own good.

  I wrap my fingers into the long strands of his hair and he lifts me up, his hands on my butt. I kiss him back, a soft moan escaping me. I suddenly find my back against the pool wall and I drop my legs from around his waist. He places his hands on either side of me against the edge of the pool and the gesture presses us even closer together.

  We break apart, breathing heavily as we struggle to get enough oxygen into our starved lungs.

  Ollie gazes down at me intensely and rubs his thumb over my tender bottom lip.

  “You are everything to me,” he whispers raggedly.

  I glide my fingers under his soaking wet shirt, touching his abs, and he shivers. He kisses the end of my nose and then bites his lip.

  I can tell he wants to say something, but he’s reluctant to do it.

  Ollie’s always been the jokester, the class clown, the guy that’s the life of the party—but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think or feel. At the end of the day, no matter how much he smiles and laughs, he’s still a person and he still hurts.

  “Talk to me,” I plead, reaching for him as he starts to back away.

  He lets out a shaky breath and takes my hand, kissing my fingers.

  “I don’t like rehashing things we’ve talked about so many times,” he whispers. “But I fucking miss you.”

  “What do you mean? I’m right here,” I say, confused.

  He shakes his head. “Yeah, you’re here in the physical sense but you’re not here.” He taps my forehead. “The old Talia would’ve been laughing her ass off if I pushed her in the pool and then wanted to have a contest to see who could push who into the pool the fastest. Instead, you were irritated. I know things will never be the same, I’m a lot of things but I’m not stupid, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you. I know I’m not the same, either.” He shakes his head. “But I’m sick of the dark cloud hanging over our heads. And I know we’ve talked about this before, and it helps, but only a little.”

  My brows furrow together. “Are you saying you think I need therapy or something?”

  He shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.” He tugs on his hair. “I just know I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You’re not going to lose me.”

  He lifts his hands like he’s cupping sand and water streams down in rivulets. “Really? Because every day I feel like I’m losing you a little more.”

  “I’ve been feeling better since our conversation in Cuzco,” I defend. “You couldn’t tell?”

  “Yeah, you’ve been acting a little better,” he agrees. “But only a little.”

  I bristle. “You can’t expect me to change overnight!” I yell at him. “Not everything is fucking rainbows and sunshine! I was shot! I lost my baby!”

  Ollie’s eyes widen with hurt and he shakes his head slightly. My lips part in horror.

  It might sound strange, but in all the years we’ve been together, I’ve never, not once, yelled at him in anger. Sure, in jest or to tell him to stop acting like an idiot before he gets himself killed, but never because I was mad.

  “It was my baby too,” he says softly. “It was our baby.”

  He swims away then and climbs out of the pool, heading inside the bungalow and leaving a trail of water behind him.

  I burst into tears, hating myself.

  Every time I think things are going to be better, we take two steps back.

  I take two steps back.

  I thought this trip was going to be the experience of a lifetime—just what we needed to put the past behind us and start anew, but I keep fucking it up, and I’m terrified I might push him away for good.

  It was hell knowing I was going to have to live in a world without my child, but if I lose Ollie too …

  That thought is too painful to even contemplate.

  A blanket drops over my shoulders and I look up to find Ollie. He sits down beside me in the sand where I hid away on the beach to watch the sunset and let him cool off after our mini-argument. I realize compared to some couples our “fight” was about as mild as it gets, but for us, it’s a big deal.

  Ollie sits with his legs drawn up and drapes his arms over his knees.

  “I don’t want to fight with you,” he says, watching the ocean crash against the shore. “It makes me fucking sick to my stomach.”

  “I don’t want to fight, either.” I can feel the tears pricking my eyes once more. You’d think eventually you’d run out of tears but I’ve learned that’s not the case. Your body is always ready to make more.

  Ollie glances at me just as one tear spills over. He reaches over quickly, catching
it with his finger and whisking it away.

  “I think,” he begins, “that we thought one day we’d wake up and things would’ve magically gone back to normal. But it doesn’t work that way. It takes time and effort.”

  I smile sadly. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  He reaches over and laces our fingers together. “We can do it, Tal. We can get better. But we have to do it together.” He lifts our joined hands and kisses my knuckles. “Talking about it isn’t fixing things. We have to take action.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  He shrugs. “I guess you’ll have to trust me.”

  He stands then and crisscrosses his arms, pulling his shirt off and dropping it into the sand. His fingers go to the button on his shorts next.

  “Ollie?” I question. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re going skinny dipping,” he announces, pulling his pants down.

  “Are you crazy?” I laugh.

  He shakes his head. “Not crazy at all. We’ve done this before. It’ll be fine.”

  “Ollie—” I start to protest again.

  “Talia,” he says back in a similar tone. “Just fucking do it.” He doesn’t say the words sharply like he’s irritated.

  A year ago I wouldn’t have questioned him on what he was doing. As soon as he started undressing I would’ve been doing the same.

  Without another word, I stand and start taking off my clothes. There are a few bungalows near ours, but no one’s around, and I’ve never cared about being caught in the past so I might as well not start now.

  Ollie’s right. I’ve forgotten who I am, who we are. I don’t want to be a ghost in my own life. I want to live. Too many people sit back and don’t experience the greatest things in life because they’re scared. I’ve never wanted that to be me, but the last year that’s what I’ve become and it’s not okay with me anymore.

  When I’m completely naked, Ollie and I run into the water.

  It’s warm, much warmer than Malibu’s water, and we swim out a bit.