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Chapter Twenty-Four
Ryan
Jaime is curled up against me, sleeping peacefully. She’s gloriously naked beneath the sheet, her soft skin pressed firmly against my body. It’s a sensation I’ll never get enough of.
The alarm clock beside me reads two a.m. I’ve been unable to sleep since we came back to our room at the end of the evening. My mind kept replaying the conversation between Jaime and the shop owner where she purchased the blue bowl and I bought the matching candlesticks that are still safely tucked away in the bag. The woman thought we were married, and even though I couldn’t see Jaime’s face, I could hear the surprise in her response.
All evening–as we walked hand-in-hand back to my truck, as we drove to the seaside restaurant Martin helped me make reservations at, and as we dined on fresh seafood–I was haunted by that one word: Marriage. I want to get married, someday, but now the idea has been planted in my mind and is blossoming into a full-blown tree of hope. I want to marry Jaime. I know it. I feel it in my heart and deep in my soul. I’d propose tomorrow if I thought she’d say yes. But I know she won’t. She’s not ready.
And that’s okay–for now.
Maybe I’m not quite ready. We’ve hardly known each other two months. In all honesty, our instant connection and my resulting love for her seem too good to be true. I mean, we hardly know each other, right? I don’t know what kind of toothpaste she prefers or whether she buys white or wheat bread. But for as hasty as our relationship appears, it also feels like I’ve known her forever. She completes my thoughts and grounds me. She wormed her way under my skin so damn quickly, it’s as if she’s always been there.
While we made love after returning from dinner, I showered her with as much adoration as I could give. I showed her, repeatedly, that I was here to stay, never once saying one of the millions of things I longed to say to her for fear of freaking her out. Instead I told her the one thing she has accepted: that I love her.
Everything else will come in time.
Yet that doesn’t quiet my mind or slow the steady beat of my heart. Sleep has yet to find me because I’ve contemplated every scenario I can conjure up in my mind from begging her to move in to asking her to marry me. I’ve also come up with every excuse she could give me to say no. It’s terrifying, putting your heart out there and risking someone trampling it into the dirt as if it meant nothing.
Not that I think Jaime would do that, intentionally. Jaime’s still skittish when it comes to relationships, and while ours has been working out well in the time we’ve known each other, I won’t risk that happiness to move this on into the next level.
But I want to.
Sliding carefully, I gently move Jaime until she’s no longer wrapped around me. My body longs for her touch once more, but I push the feeling aside and get out of bed. Grabbing my shorts off the floor, I slip them on, followed by a t-shirt. As I carefully open our bedroom door, I glance back at the beauty sleeping peacefully in bed. A smarter man would rid himself of all of the clothes he just put on and climb back inside the warm covers, but I’m in desperate need of a little air, so I push aside the longing for her touch, and slip out of the room.
The house is silent as I move down the stairs and head towards the back door. I’m surprised to find it not only unlocked, but also ajar. Outside, the July night is calm. The salty air carries a hint of crispness and the fragrance of lavender.
“I’m a little surprised to see you out here,” a familiar voice says from the shadows.
“Likewise,” I reply, turning to face Jaime’s grandpa.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks while I pull up a chair.
“No.”
“Me neither. This hard-on won’t go down,” he says casually as if he wasn’t just referring to the junk in his pants.
Reflexively, I glance down and instantly wish I hadn’t. Averting my eyes as quickly as possible, I clear my throat.
“It’s okay, son. It’ll go down eventually. The doc always says not to worry unless it’s been four hours.”
“How long have you…uh, had your problem?” I ask, wishing I could retract my question as soon as it flies from my lips.
Orval glances at his watch. “Only an hour since the missus and I finished up another round of making music on the flesh flute. I’ve still got another bit before it subsides. No amount of orgasms helps me when Viagra’s in my system. I could go for hours with this little blue pill,” he says, pulling a bottle from the chest pocket of his shirt. “Want one?” he offers.
“Uh, no. Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Don’t need ‘em, huh? Yeah, it wasn’t that long ago that I didn’t need ‘em. Unfortunately, old age can take a toll on the male body, son. You’ll learn eventually. When your woman has a sex drive like a chimpanzee, you’ll do whatever it takes to give her what she wants.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of information.”
We both stare out over the blackened beach, hypnotized by the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. “So, you’ve never said what you were doing out here.” Orval states.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I mumble, recalling the dilemma that has my mind bouncing all over the place.
“Female troubles?” he asks.
“Is there any other kind?” I ask, humorously.
