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“It's outstanding!” I sigh, sliding my arms under hers and pulling her close to me. “You realize you are practically naked right? Right out here in public?”
She wrinkles up her nose, nuzzling the tip of my nose with hers in an adorably intimate gesture.
“I'm really glad you like it,” she sighs as she kisses me, her lips sweet as ever.
“Permission to come aboard?” Dillon calls out. I set Bella back on the dock, watching Dillon charming the New York Times guy. He seems to be relaxing into our arrangement, finally. No more outbursts, no more attempts at sabotage. I see him smiling at Bella once in awhile when he thinks she’s not looking. Maybe he's glad that it's almost over. Just a few more days now.
I'm not sure I feel the same way.
“Permission granted!” the columnist yells back to Dillon. He waves vigorously with his arms over his head. “Hi, I'm Kent!”
“Hi, Kent!” Bella yells back. She turns to me, rolling her eyes and smiling prettily. “Okay, let's go impress the New York Times!”
We walk up the wooden gangplank onto the main deck of the sailboat, and Bella coos appreciatively at all the equipment and ropes and other sailing ephemera. Kent makes a great show of walking her up and down the boat, pointing out that he knows the name of every single thing on here.
I don't, I have to admit. I have a crew on hire. I don't have to remember the names of all the widgets and gears and crap like that. I just have to remember that when the sail swings toward the other side of the boat, I need to get the hell out of the way so I don’t get knocked into the water. That is the one thing I know about sailing.
That, and there is a big old waterbed downstairs. I also know that.
Unfortunately, Kent is going to be with us for the duration of our three-hour Lake Michigan cruise — which I guess is not technically a cruise but a “sail” — so there will be no time to slip Bella out of that bikini top. At least not right away.
Once we’re all aboard, the crew motors us away from the harbor, shouting commands to each other in that specialized language they use. I stand a ways back, watching Bella charm Kent with Dillon looking quite sportsmanlike himself. After a little while, I stroll up to the group, dramatically drawing Bella back to my arms in front of Kent. I tuck her windblown hair behind her ears and kiss her gently, listening for the familiar sounds of Kent's camera.
“Oh, you guys make a great couple,” he sighs wistfully. “Bella was just telling me that you to plan to go to New Zealand this winter. What a great trip!”
“Totally her idea, too,” I say, wondering when she came up with that one. It's news to me, but I think it would actually be nice. I wouldn't mind hiking some of those mountains, and I know Dillon enjoys attending to go camping every once in awhile. The isolation, certainly, can't be beat. We could hide among the sheep.
“He gives me anything I want,” she coos. “After New Zealand, can we go to Easter Island?”
“Anything you say, Bella,” I answer immediately, hoping she'll keep this up.
I wouldn't mind having a list of things that she'd like to do. It makes it easier than guessing, anyway. We could do New Zealand, then Easter Island, maybe even Madagascar, since it seems like she's kind of intellectual about her travel locations. She didn't say Paris or Rome, which is what most people fantasize about — the touristy comfort of America in Paris-shaped packaging, I always thought. She's talking about places where we have to really work to see the sights, really have to experience something out of the ordinary.
“Mayan pyramids?” I suggest.
“You read my mind!” she exclaims, jumping up and throwing her arms around my neck. I hold her tight, quickly becoming excited at the combination of sunscreen and sweat on her skin. Feeling her long legs bouncing against my hips is turning me on a frightful amount. I'm not actually sure I want to wait that long. What kind of trouble would I get in if Kent suddenly fell overboard?
“You two make a great couple. It's just perfect,” Kent sighs.
“Aren't they, though?” Dillon smiles, his cheeks dimpled strongly. He seems to really mean it. That makes me happy too.
After a few minutes, we retire to the galley for a quick round of mojitos prepared by our chef. We’ve also got some freshly made ceviche and spring rolls to snack on. Then Dillon pulls out his phone. His eyebrows go up.
“Hey… check your alerts,” he smiles at me. I slide my phone out of my back pocket and glance at it. There's already a picture of us, standing on the prow of the boat. Bella's arms are folded behind my neck and she leans into me, arching her back. Our smiles are mirror images of each other, as Chicago skyline is sunlit and beautiful in the background. Sparks of light reflect off the surface of the lake.
“Wow… you look beautiful, darling,” I say, surprised, angling the phone toward Bella. Her eyes go wide as well. “How did this picture already get on the Times?”
Kent winks at me, smiling impishly. “Fastest fingers in the east!” he declares. “I sent your pictures over to my editor right away. I’m not about to get scooped again!”
“Smart guy,” Dillon nods approvingly, toasting Kent’s shrewdness.
I remember that I'd heard that there were several people who had gotten the pictures of us and the Congresswoman… I'm starting to wonder of Kent was one of them. In the world of gossip, the first one to spike the ball in the end zone gets to claim credit for ever more. I never really thought about pictures going up while the event was still happening, but I suppose I should have.
“Look at us… that's a nice picture. We should have that framed,” Bella smiles at me.
“Love for the Riordan heir?” I repeat, reading the caption aloud. I watch Bella's throat as she swallows, and I deliberately avoid glancing at Dillon. He's been doing so good, I don't want him to negatively react to Kent’s artistic license. Love? That's a bit of a liberty he's taken.
I never said I was in love.
