Ollie’s hands clamp around my waist and I fall into his chest instead.
His hair flops into his eyes and I reach up to push it away. “Well, that’s one way to ensure I’m awake,” I joke, and kiss him.
“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “You could’ve been hurt.” He lifts me onto the counter easily.
I pick up the bowl he was using to mix the ingredients and stare at it. “Is that pepper?” I ask, one brow raised in disbelief.
He scratches the back of his neck. “Um, yeah, I knocked the refill container out of the cabinet and it fell in there. I was putting it away when you came in.”
I shake my head. “You have to dump this, you know?”
He sighs and grumbles, “Yeah, I know.”
He takes the bowl from me and dumps the contents in the trashcan. He then grabs the dustpan and small hand broom from underneath the sink and uses it to clean up the mess on the floor.
“Forget breakfast for the moment,” I say as he empties the mess in the dustpan into the trashcan. “I want to go surfing.”
His eyes widen in surprise. I haven’t brought up surfing again since that day we did it in Costa Rica. I had a lot of fun that day, but he probably figured we’d get back and I’d revert to my shell again and not want to surf.
“You want to surf?” He stands up straight and crosses his arms over his tanned bare chest.
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “We can grab a bite of lunch before we go to the doctor and then …”
“Then?” He prompts, stiffening when he sees the sadness flash in my eyes.
I inhale a shaky breath and tamp down my emotions. “And then I want to go to the cemetery and see the baby.”
There wasn’t anything physical we could bury of our first child, but I insisted on getting a proper gravestone. My doctor had thought it would be a good way to heal, but I haven’t been back since the day we held a small funeral ceremony.
“Are you sure?” Ollie hedges nervously. I’m sure he’s afraid visiting the grave will send me back into that dark place, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid of that too, but I feel in my gut that it’s the right thing to do. That I have to do it. He steps forward into the space between my legs where I sit on the counter. He gently glides his hands up my legs, settling them on my thighs. “If you’re not ready, we don’t have to go. It’s not going anywhere. It’ll always be there.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and tilt my head to the side. “I’m ready.”
I’ve avoided this moment for too long, and I’m finally ready.
He leans his forehead against mine so that we’re nose to nose. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do it.” He moves one of his hands to my stomach and I close my eyes. “I’m trying so hard to be strong for you,” he admits. “But I’m scared, Tal. I’m really fucking scared.”
My eyes open, my lips parted in surprise. I shake my head. “I had no idea.”
“Having to tell you we lost the baby the first time is single-handedly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in life.” He swallows thickly and fights back tears. “I believe whole heartedly that things are going to be different this time, but I …”
“You still can’t shake the fear,” I finish for him. “I know. I feel the same. That’s why I want to see my doctor today.”
He moves his hands to my hips, squeezing slightly. “The things I’ve always been the most afraid have always turned out to be the best. I know this will be no different.”
He kisses the end of my nose and steps away, breaking the bubble of seriousness that had formed around us.
I hop down and head into the bedroom to change into my bikini.
It feels good to be doing something so familiar. I always knew I’d surf again someday, when the time was right, but I’m glad it didn’t take me too long to get back out there. I’ll have to remember to thank Liam for the quiet nudge he gave me by having the surfboards at our bungalow in Costa Rica.
Ollie had tried to get me out in the water plenty of times before, but I think it took me getting away from home to finally be able to do it.
I slip on a pair of shorts over my bikini bottoms and a loose top. I would normally forgo the top, but since we’re going to lunch after, and then to my appointment, I figure it’s best to have real clothes on.
Ollie was already in his board shorts this morning—they’re usually a part of his outfit of choice—and I meet him outside. He already has our boards strapped to the top of Betty.
My heart floods with happiness seeing my bright orange board beside his blue one. It hasn’t been on top of Betty in over a year.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks. “For you to surf with the baby and all?”
I nod. “My doctor okayed it before as long as I didn’t do anything too strenuous.”
He nods once, hands on his hips. “Ready to go then?”
I breathe out a heavy breath. It’s a beautiful day in Malibu. The sun shines brightly through the leaves of the palm trees overhead. Seagulls fly above us and on the street a group of kids play basketball.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I say after a moment.
He opens the driver’s door and waits for a moment until my feet finally move and I slide in the passenger’s seat.
He drives to our favorite beach and blasts Backstreet Boys on the way. I don’t know what we’d do if we ever upgraded to a new car and didn’t have our cassette tapes anymore. I’ve grown so used to listening to them that I think I’d be lost without it.
The windows are rolled down, letting a breeze flow in, and it moves my hair so it tickles my shoulders.
We arrive at our favorite surf spot a few minutes later. It’s secluded and off the beaten path. We’ve never run across anyone else in this spot, except our friends. It seems to be our well-kept secret, although there might be one or two other local surfers who know of it. Locals try to keep all the good places hush-hush so the tourists don’t encroach.
Ollie parks Betty, and I’m out of the car before he can open his door.
He gets my board down first and hands it to me.
I start off for the beach and tuck my board into the sand so I can remove my clothes. I fold my shirt and bottoms into a neat pile and leave them on a rock so they don’t get sandy. Ollie joins me and does the same with his shirt—although, instead of folding it, he drops it into a crumpled ball on my clothes. I shake my head but say nothing. There’s no point.
He looks at me then, his lips quirked up in a half smile. The sun is haloed behind him, making him look almost angelic—but I know he’s far too mischievous.
Three heartbeats pass before he says, “Last one in has to the laundry for a month.”
He grabs his board and takes off running for the water.
I quickly hurry after him, yelling, “That’s not fair. I do the laundry anyway.”
One time, Ollie did the laundry and well … the mess was bigger than what I woke up to in the kitchen this morning. Bubbles were everywhere.
Ollie splashes into the water and runs out before hopping on his board.
“You lose,” he calls back.
“You cheated,” I gripe, but I can’t help but laugh.
The water is chilly and I squeal a little when it hits my legs. I paddle out and sit up when I reach him.
“’Bout time you got here. I was about to take a nap,” he jokes.
I lightly push his shoulder but he dramatically falls into the water with a splash and flailing limbs. When he surfaces, I’m laughing my ass off.
“You’re such a dork.” I shake my head as he climbs back onto his board.
He pushes his wet hair from his eyes and grins crookedly. “Maybe so, but it got you to smile.” He reaches over and grasps my chin, drawing me close enough to kiss me. “I love you,” he murmurs.
I nuzzle closer to him and smile. “I love you too.”
In a world where I’ve doubted my place, my passion, my life, I’ve never doubted my love for him.
He smiles back and then licks my nose.
“Ew!” I shriek and push him away.
He laughs and wraps his hands around his board, holding himself steady.
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, fighting giggles, but it’s futile. They break free and once I start laughing, I can’t seem to stop, and then he joins too.
This is us.
Crazy.
Free.
And maybe a little insane.
But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We each catch a wave before we have to call it quits and get something to eat because we can no longer ignore the rumbling in our stomachs.
“Let’s go to Mo’s,” I suggest as we walk back to the car.
Ollie stops dead in his tracks and swivels toward me so fast that he nearly takes out my legs.
“What’d you say?”
Neither one of us has set foot in Mo’s since the accident. That’s where it happened. That’s where I laid on the floor bleeding out, convinced I was going to die but desperate to live. I haven’t been strong enough to go back, until now. I’m ready, and I know this is a big step for me.
“I said, let’s go to Mo’s,” I repeat.
He shakes his head, his eyes squinting like he just can’t believe it.
Mo’s was renovated afterwards—I think the owner hoped that would help people forget what happened there—and it’s been open again for a while. Before the accident it was our favorite place to eat and hang out. We spent many nights hanging on their back deck with our friends, drinking a couple of beers, laughing and having a good time.
“Tal,” he says softly. “You already said you wanted to go to the grave …” He swallows thickly. “Are you sure you want to do this too? What if it’s too much?”
“Then we’ll turn around in leave. I need to do this, Ollie.”
I know he can’t understand my logic for this—hell, I don’t understand it—but my gut tells me it’s time.
“Okay.” He nods. “Okay,” he says again, with a little more surety this time, although I’m sure he thinks I’m completely off my rocker.
We reach Betty and he loads his board onto the car, then takes mine from me. As we drive to Mo’s he is continuously glancing at me, watching for any sign that I’m about to lose my shit.
I feel surprisingly calm, though.
Centered.
I feel like the trip served to lift an unnecessary weight from my shoulders. The day I ran from Ollie and completely broke down was one of my lowest points I’ve ever experienced, but something about it has helped cleanse me.
It’s all too easy to keep things bottled inside you and when you do that, eventually you have to explode and let it all out, and that’s exactly what happened to me.
I see Mo’s approaching in the distance and my throat catches. My heart beats a little bit faster, but I don’t feel like I need to tell him I changed my mind.
Instead, I ask, “Is this going to be okay for you?”
He wasn’t there that day, but I know he’s pictured me lying on the floor, bleeding out, more times than he’d like to admit.
His lips thin and he nods once.
“Ollie?” I prompt again. “Just because I’m ready doesn’t mean you are.”
He shakes his head. “No. We need to do this. We need to reclaim this place and stop letting that monster haunt our lives. We had good memories here—that one event doesn’t change that.”
He parks in the lot beside the building.
The building was once painted a shade of teal darker than our van, but it has since been repainted orange with a teal door instead. It’s not much of a change, but it’s enough to make it seem like a different place—at least from the outside. I know the inside was redone, but I have no idea how much. It could be a simple paint job or a complete overhaul.
Ollie rests his hands on the wheel and breathes out heavily.
He doesn’t ask me if I’m ready. He knows I’ll go when I am.
A full five minutes pass before I reach that point. I don’t say anything, I simply reach for the door handle and he follows suit.
He meets me in front of the car and places his hand on the small of my waist, reminding me he’s there, but not pushing me forward.
I stare up at the building, a mix of emotions swirling in my stomach.
I feel sick with nerves and a part of me—a big part—wants to tuck tail and run back to the car, drive away, and go back to pretending that this place no longer exists.
But I know running from my problems is never a good idea.
Twenty heartbeats—that’s how many I count before one foot finally moves forward.
Ollie comes with me.
We slowly make our way to the front door. The sign on the building is still the same and the smiling monkey that looks down at me appears to be mocking me, but I know that’s not really the case and simply my mind playing tricks on me.
I reach out for the door handle and open it. Ollie’s breath catches and I pause.
“Are you sure about this?” I question.
He looks slightly pale and like he’s about to break out into a sweat.
His eyes jolt to mine and the normal blue color is almost completely gone his eyes are dilated so much.
He jerks his chin once in an awkward nod.
I step in first and he follows, his hand still on my waist like he’s afraid to let go of me.
We stop as the door swings closed behind us.
Gone is the rustic beachy vibe I loved so much and in its place is white, white, and more white with the occasional pop of color in the form of chairs. It’s not at all what I was expecting. I don’t know whether I’m happy that it’s so vastly different, or sad, because that makes Mo’s another thing that man destroyed.
Blaise.
His name was Blaise, the man that shot me.
Well, he didn’t shoot me. He ordered his henchman to do that. Something tells me Blaise was smart enough to never get any actual blood on his hands. Regardless, he’d ended up in jail after it all was said and done.
I hadn’t allowed myself to say or even think his name since then.
It was stupid, really, to be that way. It was just a name and he had no power over me or anyone else.
Not anymore.
“Hi, a table for two?” a cheery female voice calls, bringing my attention back to the present.
I glance at Ollie and find him staring angrily at the floor and I’m sure in his mind, he’s imagining what I must have looked like lying in this building fighting for my life.
“Yes, please,” I answer her, and Ollie slowly removes his gaze from the floor, giving me a tight-lipped smile.
“Would you like to sit inside or out?” she asks, grabbing two menus and two napkins of rolled-up utensils.
“Um, outside,” I answer. Being here is a major accomplishment in itself, I don’t want to push either of us too far, too fast.
She nods and turns, expecting us to follow her outside.
The back deck overlooks the beach and ocean and with the exception of some new lights it looks the same as it always did.
The hostess lays the menus on the table, flashes a smile, and then disappears back into the building.
We each take our seats and glance over the menu. It’s exactly the same and for some reason this makes me breathe a little easier.
Ollie glances at the menu quickly, his jaw clenched tight. His eyes then stray to the ocean and his fingers tap, tap, tap against the table top.
“Ollie?” I prompt swiftly.
His head whips in my direction so fast that he looks like something from a horror movie.
“How can you stand being here?” he hisses and clutches at his hair in aggravation.
I shrug. “I need to do this.”
“But why?” he practically whines. “What’s being here going to prove or change? Huh?”
I inhale a tense breath. “This was always our place before,” I ramble. “We spent as much time h
ere as we did at home and in the water. I can’t fucking stand letting that day—that man—rob me of the things I love. The only thing he took that I can’t get back is our baby. But I can surf again and I can come here and I can live my life and that’s what I’m going to do. I won’t let him win.”
He shakes his head but the tenseness leaves his shoulders. “You’ve always been too stubborn for your own good.”
I smile slyly. “It’s why you love me.”
“One of the many reasons,” he concurs.
A waitress breezes over to us then to take our order.
Ollie orders a soda and his favorite fish tacos. I order my usual—a salad with fish—and a water.
She smiles and says, “I’ll get that right in and be back with your drinks.”
“I have missed their fish tacos,” Ollie admits with an impish grin.
I smile. “I know.”
“How?” He tilts his head to the side in question.
“Sometimes you mumble fish tacos in your sleep.” I shrug.
“I do not,” he defends.
“Do so,” I argue.
He grins and I smile back.
The beach breeze lifts my hair and I gather it over one shoulder. It’s pointless, though, and soon the strands are blowing around my head again. I end up securing it in a messy bun with the elastic that never leaves my wrist unless it’s in my hair. Rule number one of being a girl: always have an elastic at the ready.
The waitress brings our drinks, and I slurp greedily at my water. Being out in the water this morning has left me dehydrated.
Ollie watches me carefully from across the table, checking for any sign of an imminent meltdown, but I feel surprisingly okay.
“Tell me,” he pleads suddenly.
“What?” I ask, raising my eyes to his.
He swallows thickly.
“Can you tell me what happened that day?”
My heart lurches. He’s never asked me to recount that day. I think he was scared of pushing me, and maybe scared to truly know the answer.
“Are you sure?” I confirm.
A Love Like Ours Page 18
