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What’s that phrase people say about making assumptions? Assuming makes an ass out of you and me? In this case, assuming makes me fall on my ass, because about six stairs from the bottom, one creaks and loosens before breaking entirely.
Sixty-One
My fall is fast. One second I’m looking down at the sand below and the next I’m landing on it, pain shooting up my backside and spine. It’s not so bad that I immediately think I broke something, but it sure as hell knocks the wind right out of my lungs.
I’m on my back facing the cloudy sky with its puffs of white against a vibrant blue. Thank God my vision is normal. I slowly catch my breath, willing myself to sit up.
And then Ethan is here, he’s yelling my name and lifting me into his wet arms.
He asks if I’m okay, but I can’t speak yet. Cursing, he carries me back up the stairs, stepping over the one I just broke. He’s saying something about how they’ve been meaning to get that one fixed and how sorry he is.
I’m sorry too, but not for a dumb step.
“I’m fine,” I finally cough out. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Can you feel your legs? Move your toes for me,” he demands as we reach the top of the bluff. He gently sets me down on the floor of the gazebo and inspects me while I wiggle my toes.
“I’m fine,” I insist. “I’ll probably have a bruise but that’s all. The sand caught me.”
“Thank God.” He’s kneeling beside me, his head hanging low and water dripping from the ends. “That stair has been a problem for two years. We’ve just been skipping over it every time we use them. Cooper and I haven’t wanted to tear down the old gazebo and stairs because our mom loved them. They were here on the original property when my parents bought it and Conrad promised to keep them for her. After she died, we let them get worse. They should’ve been fixed or replaced. I’m sorry. So sorry.”
He’s speaking so fast, and all the while his hands are trailing over my body, trailing down my arms, around my sides, over my legs. He’s checking for injuries, searching for something he can fix, but it’s my heart that needs his attention right now.
“I’m okay,” I say again. Had I landed on rocks, or fallen from higher up, I probably wouldn’t be, but it wasn’t as bad as it probably looked. “My ego is bruised more than anything. Coming here was supposed to be my grand gesture.”
He sits back on his haunches and meets my gaze, holding me steady within the depths of his eyes. They remind me so much of the ocean and maybe that’s why I find them so intriguing. The ocean has always been this fearful thing for me but if he asked me to go swimming with him in there right now I would gladly face my fears and do it.
He’s so beautiful. Attractive, yes, but it’s more than that. It’s not just his expressive eyes framed by thick lashes, or his shapely muscles, or his thick wet hair that’s half covered in sand. Those are all things I love about him, but it’s his heart that I love most. He’s become a wonderful man, someone who will do anything for the people he loves. Someone who would’ve done anything for me until I pushed him away.
Hell, he risked his life to try to save his enemy because he knew I loved that enemy.
“Is that why you’re here?” he asks and it’s time to face this.
“There’s something I need to say to you.” I sit up, tucking my feet under me, and cling to whatever courage I can muster. “I was wrong. I got so caught up in trying to please my family that I let them hurt you and I let them hurt me, but worst of all, I hurt you.”
He’s silent, sitting with my words, but he hasn’t argued or left me yet, so that gives me hope. Hope is all I can ask for right now.
“And I’m sorry,” I continue. “I’m so sorry for everything. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted you to hear it from me that I’m leaving Manhattan. I’m going back to school in Boston.”
His eyes flicker with something unreadable, something that I fear is about to be rejection. Or worse. Indifference.
“You wanted to do some grand gesture to . . . win me back?”
My cheeks warm and I nod. “Stupid, I know.”
I expect him to tell me off but instead he shakes his head once and then slides his fingers into my hair, gripping my scalp and tugging me toward him. Between one breath and the next, his mouth claims mine. And I get it. Because what are words when actions are so much better?
But I like the words too, especially words like “good girl” and “Juliet” and “Arden” and “fuck that’s good” all the other praises he’s so great at saying when he’s with me. I don’t know what that says about me, maybe that I was desperate for love and attention as a child, but I don’t care. This is part of who I am. And Ethan? He knows me.
“Of course, I forgive you,” he answers between kisses. “I’ll always forgive you.”
Soon we’re laying down in the gazebo, blocked from view and surrounded by the storm-weathered wood that has seen us through arguments and confessions. This place has survived a hurricane. It has stood strong through so many tests. Ethan and I? We may have been damaged along the way, but our relationship is still standing too.
He takes his time with me, stripping us bare between long languid kisses. And then when we’re ready, we make love like it’s the first time. Careful at first, considerate and slow, until the need is too much and the movements grow frenzied.
Through it all, I’m met with a sense of belonging that I’ve never experienced so deeply before this moment. I truly trust Ethan with my whole heart, but also with my body, mind, and soul. He means the world to me. I’ll do anything to keep him. And I know he feels the same way about me. It’s a pure, forgiving, all-consuming love I’ve never been on the receiving end of before.
We’ve been through so much together, through pain and pleasure, through grief and glory. What’s next? Life will be easy and life will be cruel, but I have confidence that we’ll weather every storm together.
