A Love Like Ours

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “I’m fine,” I tell him again before he can ask.

  “You’re not fine,” he growls. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to worry.”

  “You lying to me only makes me worry more.”

  I pat the empty space in the bed beside me. “Lay down. I don’t want to fight.”

  He shakes his head and points a finger warningly at me. “If you’re not better in the morning, we’re going to the doctor.”

  “Deal,” I agree reluctantly.

  He lets out a breath, appeased, and slips beneath the sheets. I snuggle closer to him and he wraps his arms around me.

  Minutes later, when he thinks I’m asleep, he whispers, “I love you so much it scares me.”

  I wake up feeling much better. Thank God.

  Ollie’s still fast asleep when I tumble from the bed and I use the time to shower and dress for the day. I dry my hair and gather it back in a messy bun. The idea of standing around and trying to make it look nice doesn’t sound appealing.

  I pad from the bathroom into the bedroom of the suite and Ollie yawns, blinking his eyes open.

  “Hey,” he says groggily. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better,” I answer honestly.

  “Hungry?” he asks.

  My stomach growls and I nod. “Definitely.”

  He stifles another yawn and stands from the bed. “I’ll get dressed and we’ll go somewhere. Room service doesn’t sound appealing at the moment.”

  I nod my head in agreement. Since I didn’t feel well yesterday, I’d probably be smart to stay in the room, but that’s never been my style. I need to keep moving and keep doing, and getting out of here for breakfast sounds like a better idea than hanging in the room all day.

  It doesn’t take Ollie long to get dressed and then we’re out the door.

  The hotel is as swanky as the first one we had in Peru, and as we leave, I actually take time to appreciate it, unlike when we arrived.

  The floors are all tile, the walls crisp white, with lights between each set of doors. The ceiling extends high above us into a trey ceiling, the topmost part of it painted a royal blue.

  We found the elevator and Ollie pushed the button, calling it to our floor. It didn’t take long and the doors slid open. We stepped inside and he pushed the button for the lobby.

  “I’m going to go ask the receptionist if there’s a restaurant near here,” I tell him, dancing away.

  He laughs as I twirl dramatically through the lobby and his laughter fills my body with warmth.

  I reach the receptionist desk and the lady working there smiles kindly.

  “Hi,” I begin. “We’re hungry. Is there a place close enough that we can walk to get breakfast?”

  She nods. “There are several places either direction you go,” she says in accented English. “I recommend the first place on your right.”

  I drum my hands on the cool stone top in a random beat and smile. “Thank you.”

  I head back over to Ollie and tell him what she told me and then he slings his arm over my shoulders, steering me toward the sliding glass doors that lead outside.

  I promptly gasp. “Holy shit.”

  He chuckles. “You really were out of it last night.”

  Algarve sits in the southernmost part of Portugal, right on the Atlantic Ocean. The town is large but clustered together on the side of what I assume is a mountain but I could be wrong. From where the hotel is located we look down at the blue-green ocean. As I turn around, I see all the white buildings with blue-and-orange-colored roofs. The city has an old world feel to it, but it’s bustling with activity.

  On the plane I decided to look up this place to see why Liam might have sent us here, and discovered that it’s well known for its beach caves. From the photos I found online, I could understand the draw. The images were breathtaking so I’m sure in person it’s even more awe-inspiring.

  “Come on,” Ollie says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I’m starving, woman. I gotta eat.”

  “Sorry.” I laugh, shaking my head. I spare our view one last glance, marveling at the color of the ocean and the steepness of the cliff, before I let him steer me to our right.

  It doesn’t take us long to find the place the receptionist was talking about. It’s small, with two sets of tables and chairs outside. Inside, the place is packed with people standing and shouting out their orders. There are a few more tables pushed against the walls, but every single one is taken.

  “Why don’t you grab one of those free tables outside before they get snagged?” Ollie suggests. “I’ll order our food and meet you out there.”

  “Good idea.”

  I push my way back through the crowd to get outside. I don’t worry about telling Ollie what I want; he’s known me long enough to know what I like and don’t like.

  I take a seat at one of the tables and slide my sunglasses onto my face. The crisp ocean breeze tickles my face and moves my hair.

  Like Costa Rica, I never once thought about visiting Portugal—and in all honesty, before making the flight, if you’d asked me to point out Portugal on a map I would’ve told you it was in South America, not beside Spain.

  Yeah, yeah, I should’ve known that but when you’re living on the streets at sixteen, brushing up on your world geography isn’t high on your list of priorities.

  While I wait for Ollie, I rifle in my purse for a piece of gum. When I finally find one, I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth. I glance inside the restaurant and laugh to myself when I see Ollie fighting to place his order. It seems like there’s no rhyme or reason to how they take orders, people just shout them and you hope for the best.

  I pull out my phone and take a picture of myself blowing a bubble and send it to Ari. I type out a quick text to send with it.

  ME: This trip is awesome. I get to relax while Ollie argues with locals.

  Her response is almost immediate and it actually surprises me. I figured she wouldn’t respond.

  ARI: He’s arguing with people?!

  I take a picture of Ollie and all the people inside the tiny restaurant and send it along with another text.

  ME: Arguing. Trying to place an order for breakfast. Same thing.

  All of a sudden, I have a thought occur and I feel awful.

  ME: OMG! What time is it there?! I didn’t wake you up did I?

  ARI: 2am

  ME: I am SO sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.

  ARI: It’s okay. I wasn’t sleeping anyway. When I close my eyes…well, I’m sure you know.

  My heart clenches. I don’t have nightmares anymore, at least not regularly, but when the accident first happened I had them every night. I remember for the first month neither Ollie nor I slept because I would wake up after only a few minutes of sleep, kicking and screaming and clawing at the air. I remember begging Ollie to sleep somewhere else, or to let me sleep somewhere else so he could get some sleep, but the stubborn guy always refused. That was Ollie, though—he wasn’t the type of guy to run at the first sign of trouble. He believed in fighting through the bad together.

  ME: I’m here you know. Any time you need to talk.

  ARI: I know.

  ARI: I probably should.

  ARI: Talk about it, I mean.

  I take a deep breath, and chew on my gum harder than I probably should but it helps alleviate the tension now coiling through my body like a serpent.

  Minutes pass and she doesn’t say anything further so I take another deep breath, fortifying myself.

  ME: I miss you—I miss my best friend. I miss me too. I miss who we all were before that day happened. We’ve let that psychotic man rob us of so much because of what happened that day and I’m sick of it. I’m sick and tired of letting that one day define who I am now. My life growing up wasn’t easy. In fact, at times it was the definition of horrible, but I never let that stop me or hold me back. I was always myself. Then this day came along and for a while it’s
like I stopped living. I’ve slowly been getting better, but at the same time I wonder if I was really getting better or if I was getting better at pretending. Then Liam gave us this trip and for the first time in a long time I can breathe again. I feel like me. Nothing feels forced. I want that for you. I want to see you not struggle so much with what happened that day and hell, whatever you went through before it. I think that you think you don’t deserve a happy ending, that you should be punished for bringing him into our lives, but you’re wrong. You do deserve to be happy and you deserve your fairy tale ending just as much as the next person. Just because some lives stopped that day doesn’t mean ours have to as well.

  I press send, close my eyes, and lean my head back against the stucco exterior of the building.

  I lost my baby that day, but other people lost their lives too. So much death coated us that day but what I told her is true. Their lives might’ve ended but it doesn’t mean ours has to.

  I think for a long time I thought moving on meant forgetting my baby, but I was wrong. Nothing will ever make me forget my child. It will live on inside my heart and memories forever. It might’ve only been a small bump, curving my stomach ever so slightly, but it still made a lasting impact on my world.

  A minute later, my phone chimes with a text.

  ARI: You should hate me, but I’m selfishly glad you don’t.

  ME: That’s not selfish. That’s human.

  ARI: I really want to be your friend.

  My heart clenches and tears spring to my eyes.

  ME: You ARE my friend. That day didn’t change that.

  Ari’s not beside me, heck, she’s a whole continent away, but it’s like I can hear her breathe out a sigh of relief.

  ARI: I miss you and we have a lot to talk about when you get back. I’m going to try to get some sleep. Tell Ollie I said hi.

  ME: I will. Get some rest.

  ARI: :)

  “You’re smiling,” Ollie comments, setting down two plates on the table. He then pulls a bottle of water out of each of his short pockets, holding one out to me before he takes a seat in the other chair.

  “I was talking to Ari,” I say, plucking my gum out of my mouth and putting it on the edge of the plate. I inspect the food and it looks to be some kind of frittata with spinach and tomatoes. Whatever it is, it smells like heaven and my mouth waters. I reach for the fork on the plate and take a bite. “Oh, man, that’s delicious.”

  “You were talking to Ari?” He sounds surprised, digging his own fork into his similar breakfast platter.

  I nod. “I sent her a text, not thinking about the fact that she’d probably be sleeping, but she was up.” I shrug. Ollie’s smart enough to figure out why she was up on his own. “So we texted back and forth while I waited for you.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?” I prompt.

  “I’m surprised is all.”

  “Why?” I hate the defensive tone that leaches into my voice.

  He shrugs and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Boys.

  “You guys haven’t talked much since … you know. I guess I figured that put the shish kabob on your friendship. I mean, I didn’t want it to, but you guys have been awkward as fuck around each other since that day.”

  “Awkward as fuck,” I repeat. “That’s one way to put it.” I laugh lightly, shaking my head. Sobering, I add, “It changed things, I’m not going to lie, but I think it was more a fear of rejection that changed it rather than any actual thing. Fear will keep you from anything if you let it. It’s paralyzing.”

  Ollie nods his head in agreement. “Well, I’m glad you guys had a talk.”

  “I am too. I’m sure we’ll talk a lot more in person once we’re back.”

  “Back,” he echoes, glancing toward the street where someone rides by on a bicycle. “It feels like we’ve already been gone a lifetime.”

  I laugh, nodding my head in agreement. “Doesn’t seem like it’s only been a week. I wonder where else we’re going before we go home. Any guesses?”

  “None.” Ollie grins and his dimple winks at me from his cheek.

  A happy sigh builds in my chest.

  Moments like this, simple moments where we’re only eating breakfast and talking, serve to remind me how lucky I am to have someone like him. Someone who loves me unconditionally, makes me laugh every day, and urges me to be the best human being I can be. When I was a child, I was only surrounded by darkness and tainted love, but to grow up and find something as pure as what Ollie and I share, I realize I’m lucky. Most people would probably argue that I’ve been most unlucky in life, but I don’t choose to see it that way. You can take any negative thing and make it positive if you try hard enough. You have to find the drive within yourself to believe in the good or else the bad will eat you up.

  “Do you have any guesses?” he asks.

  I chew a bite of food and swallow. “Hmm, maybe Paris?” I suggest. “Ooh, or Barcelona. Maybe somewhere in Greece … there’s too much to choose from.”

  Ollie looks out toward the ocean, many feet below us with its blue-green color stretching far out into the distance.

  “The whole world is out there,” he says softly, “and it’s ours for the taking.”

  My scream filters through the air as I fly down the line. Ollie and I had gone for a walk after breakfast and somehow ended up zip-lining. On a scale of one to ten of crazy things we’ve done, this is relatively mild, hovering around the three mark, but it’s fun nonetheless.

  When I reach the end, the harness jerks and I laugh as someone comes over to disconnect me.

  Ollie went first and he stands back, out of the way. As soon as I’m unhooked, I run for him. My legs are a little wobbly, but since he’s barely six feet away it doesn’t make much difference.

  I collapse against him and he wraps his arms around me, spinning me in a circle before sitting me down and kissing me.

  “That was awesome!” I scream, still not over my excitement. It had been a long line over the water and trees, making for an amazing sight.

  “I was talking to this guy—” he points over his shoulder at one of the men that went before us “—and he was telling me about the caves on the beaches. He’s going to drive us to one.”

  I raise a brow. “Making friends, huh? I can’t leave you alone for five seconds.”

  He grins and brushes my hair away from my face where flyaways have come undone from my messy bun. I mean, they do call it a messy bun for a reason.

  “You know me,” he says, his smile widening. “I’ve never met a stranger.”

  “True story.”

  Maybe it was growing up in foster care, or maybe it was just Ollie, but he was never afraid to talk to anyone. I couldn’t say that I was that shy when it came to speaking to strangers, either, but I was a little more cautious than he was.

  “This is Raphael,” he introduces me to the guy.

  “Hi,” I say, extending my hand.

  Raphael is our age, maybe a little older, with sun-kissed skin, warm brown eyes, and floppy black hair. He smiles at me and he has this awkward, crooked half-smile going on. He reminds me of a dark-haired version of Ollie and I can see why they hit it off

  Raphael points to the two guys with him. “This is Filipe.” The guy with shoulder-length black hair waves. “And Mario.” Mario waves as well. He’s shorter than the other two guys, with dark brown hair that flops into his eyes. He and Raphael favor and I wonder if they’re related but I’m not nosy enough to ask.

  Ollie and I say hello, repeat our names, and once the introduction is complete, we follow the three guys down the steep hill toward the exit. We stumbled upon this place by accident, but there’s a parking lot filled with cars and that’s where Raphael and his friends lead us.

  We end up piling into an orange Jeep-like vehicle. Its engine growls—yes, growls—and smoke billows behind us as it starts up.

  “Do not worry,” Raphael says when he sees us glance back at the smoke clouding the air. �
��That always happens. But she is a very reliable car.”

  Ollie grins.

  “Oh no,” I mutter.

  “We have a Volkswagen bus,” Ollie tells him. “She’s old, but reliable too. Old cars are better than people give them credit for.”

  “Yes, exactly,” Raphael chimes, pulling out onto the street.

  I pull my tank top away from my chest and fan myself. It’s hot and maybe it’s the lingering effects from whatever illness I had yesterday, but suddenly I don’t feel so good.

  Ollie, ever in tune with me, notices.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, concern edging his eyes.

  “Fine.” I don’t want to worry him. “Just hot.”

  His brows furrow in confusion. I can understand why he’d be puzzled. Living in Malibu I’m used to the heat.

  “You’re feeling okay, though? Right?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I place my hand on his knee and give it a reassuring squeeze.

  His lips turn down in a frown. It’s a rare sight to not see him smiling so I reach over and lift the corners of his lips with my fingers.

  “That’s better.” I grin, hoping to ease his concern.

  He cracks a real smile and I laugh, dropping my hands.

  “You’d tell me if you weren’t feeling well, wouldn’t you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Lie. No way in hell am I letting him drag me to a foreign hospital. I’m sure whatever I have isn’t that serious and will pass on its own.

  Ollie looks at me like he knows I’m full of shit, but he chooses not to call me on it. Smart man.

  We reach the beach and Raphael parks on the side of the road. It reminds me of home and the way people will literally pull off onto the side of Pacific Coast Highway, hop out of their cars, and run over to the beach.

  Ollie climbs out first and then grabs me by my hips to help me down since the car is so high off the ground.

  I stumble a bit when my feet touch the ground and fall against his chest. He touches his fingers to my chin, urging me to look up.

  I expect him to kiss me, or say something sweet, but since this Ollie of course, he does none of those things.

  No, what does he do?

  He bends his head to the crook of my neck, presses his lips to my skin, and blows—and it sounds like someone’s farting.