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“Jesus, you were really hungry. And I don’t think I need a reason to kiss you.”
“You don’t. And, yes, I was.” She smiled a slow, contented smile and my heart drummed. It wasn’t one-sided, was it? She had to be feeling it too. “I think I could get used to hearing the ocean instead of traffic and fist fights.”
“Is that right?” I set aside my plate and she crawled over my lap, her legs coming to rest on either side of mine.
“Uh-huh.” she said, fingers sliding into my hair. “I always forget how much I love the ocean. And it’s so close, really. I should make an effort to come out here more often.”
“You should. At least now you know you have somewhere to stay.” My hands roamed over her back.
“That’s true!” She beamed. Kissed me once. Then again. “I still can’t believe you managed to keep this place a secret.”
“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. I figured you’d see it at some point, once it was all done. I just wasn’t sure when that was going to be. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s difficult to drag your butt away from Rudi, you’re kind of a workaholic.”
Her smile was shy and self-conscious as she ducked her head, the mess of her hair tickling my nose.
“It’s not intentional. I guess I just don’t have any hobbies. You surf—and I’m sure you’re very good when not babysitting a newb like myself. You make pie, fucking incredible pie. You have these things that light you up that aren’t Rudi, that aren’twork.” She fiddled with the tie of my robe. “I don’t–I don’t have that. I’m not sure I ever really have. When I was in middle school I studied hard so I could earn a spot at Carrington. Then I kept studying hard to get into college. When I was at college I needed to focus on getting the best job, one that would help me to get a better understanding of what it was like to run a business. There was always something else. The next thing. Now I work hard, partly because I want to and I love what we’ve created, but also … I don’t know what else to do. Workiswhat I do. It’s different now, though, because it feels final somehow, like this is it until I die or something. And if I stop then things will fall apart and all these people rely on me now and I can’t disappoint them. Can’t let them down. So I work, and work, and work.” Her eyes swung up to meet mine. “That’s sad isn’t it? I don’t have a life outside of work. I’m a workaholic loser.”
“You are not a workaholic loser.” I laughed. “Just because you haven’t found something you love outside of work, doesn't mean you never will. Maybe it will be surfing.”
She barked out a laugh. “I will be, at best, a fair weather surfer. Strictly summer only, and only when it is close to one hundred out. I do not want to experience a brain freeze like that ever again, I honestly thought my eyeballs were going to freeze. It was awful. However, during the cooler months I will be more than happy to accompany you here and sit inside while consuming hot beverages. Drinking may not be much of a hobby but it’s all I’ve got right now.” There was something else she loved, too. I’d seen it, I just needed to bring it to her.
“I don’t feel like I’ve ever really chosen anything.” The words tumbled out before I realized they were there.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve always just gone along with the flow, happy to follow other people.”
Her brow creased. “Like me? Is that—do I boss you around? Have I made you—”
“No. No, no, that’s not what I meant.” I wrapped my arms around her back and squeezed, burying my face in her neck and taking a long breath. It was difficult to sort out the thoughts rolling around in my head. “My dad was always so set on me having a direction, a path. Like you and Nash, you had plans, goals. You study at school to get into college, you work hard at college to get the best job. There are steps. Boxes to tick. I knew I should want that but … I just didn’t. The expectations were always so high, the failure inevitable. It seemed easier not to try. It wasn’t just because I wanted to piss my dad off, although that was a lot of it, I never knew what I wanted to do. I never had that goal waiting for me. I went to college because you were going to college, and what the hell else was I going to do? I could have gone to LA and surfed my days away while Nash busted his ass but I figured getting a degree was better than not getting a degree, even if I had no intention of ever doing anything with it. Traveling was great. And that became a goal, I guess—seeing as much of the world as I could—but it got lonely, too.
“It pains me to say this, but maybe Dad was right and I should have just picked something and done it. Should haveappliedmyself.” I shuddered. The most common refrain from report cards was that I could do so much if I justapplied myself. Whatever the fuck that meant.
I didn’t let myself think too much about all of this stuff. What was the point when I continued to come up without answers every time I strayed down this path? I’d never been unhappy with my life, I was well aware of how good I had it, so it was easy to go along smiling. But underneath there was this itch that was getting harder and harder to ignore.
Why couldn’t I just be happy with this, with what I had right now? With a warm fire, a grilled cheese, and Chase in my lap.
“Sounds like you might have your own Maureen, maybe we can call them, Lionel.”
“Lionel?” I laughed and she nodded.
“Lionel is feeding you a whole lot of bullshit. You. Are. Remarkable,” she said, her gentle touch turning my face until we were eye to eye. “I’m sorry your dad made you feel like you weren’t enough if you weren’t striving for something. As someone who was striving and ticking the boxes, I’m not sure it’s all that it’s cracked up to be. And, for the record, you are enough. You don’t have to do anything other than be yourself to be enough. Anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you. You are my best friend, Milton Alfred Carmichael. I would not change a fucking thing about you.” She paused, eyes fierce, and held my chin between her thumb and forefinger. I was a hot second away from crying like a fucking baby. “To me, you are perfect.”
“Did you just quoteLove, Actually?”
“Did you just correctly recognise a quote fromLove, Actually?”
Chase had many talents:delegation, making cocktails, ice skating, inspiring staff members with both praise and inventive punishments, the list went on and on. But, for all her numerous skills, cooking was not among them. Even with her obsession with cooking shows, it just wasn’t her thing. She mostly accepted this, defaulting to take out and anything that could be heated in the oven or microwave. Occasionally, though, she decided to test herself. Now, apparently, was one of those times.
I snuck out for a quick surf after she fell asleep on the couch. I didn’t think I’d been gone that long but, when I returned, it was to find her standing in the kitchen in a pair of black yoga pants and one of my hoodies, with wooly socks stretching half way up her shins. There was flour everywhere, including on her cheeks and in her hair. It was one of the most perfect things I’d ever seen.
“Hey, what’s going on in here?” I asked, momentarily distracted from my need to regain feeling in my toes.
She turned around like a kid who just got busted, eyes wide. “No! Shit! I was hoping to have cleaned up a bit before you got back.” She waved her hands over the disaster in front of her then hustled me away from the counter, which was covered in yet more flour. Had she just been throwing it around? An image of her dancing and singing into a wooden spoon under flour confetti jumped into my head and I coughed to cover the laugh.
“Did you think I wasn’t getting back until tomorrow?” I asked over my shoulder.
An adorable little growl rolled out of her. “I had things completely under control. The flour just got a little away from me is all. I’m making us pasta for dinner.” She was still herding me in the direction of the bathroom.
