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“You stay right where you are. I’m busy enough. You’re doing me a favor keeping this table occupied.” She winked and rushed off to check on tables.
Progress. Beverly was right. It might have only been a few sentences, but Charlee had revealed a sliver of herself to me tonight. Maybe that was her first step, and I had been the one to push her toward it. A proud feeling rushed through me. This moment reminded me of my mom’s first step back to us. It had taken a long time, but I never gave up on her, and if Charlee would let me, I wouldn’t give up on her either. We met for a reason, whether she recognized it or not right now.
Charlee
My guard dropped a little with Levi and Drew. I didn’t open up much, but it was enough to separate poorly healed wounds, peeling the scabs off and starting the whole process over again.
Every night brought me one day closer to the end of my journey at Beach Break Campground. Before I settled at mine and Bridger’s spot here, I completed our bucket list vacation spots, snapping photos everywhere I went. Big Sur was one of my favorite places. Bridger would have loved it, especially the terrifying drive along the cliffs. He was an adrenaline junkie to his very core.
The photos were mainly of scenery I had captured that I believed Bridger would have liked most, as if one day I would get to share them with him. That was the hardest part of all of this, having to do it without him, but I made a promise to him, so I pushed through.
Bridger and I had been huddled around the computer for hours, searching for cool beach spots along the Pacific Coast Highway. It was Bridger’s dream to surf in as many different locations as possible, including the coast we grew up on and venturing as far as Hawaii. He had another list for international spots, and we called it the “if we ever win the lottery” bucket list.
“What about this place?” I pointed to the computer. Images of Big Sur filled the screen. I clicked on one of the thumbnail photos. It was an aerial photo that showcased a secluded cove where the ocean water pooled between cliff rocks. It was breathtaking.
Bridger had been reading through the surf blogs. “Sounds sketchy.”
“So, it’s perfect then?” I teased. The sketchier the better for Bridger.
“Yep.” He kneaded my shoulders. “You might want to sit that one out, though. Looks a little dangerous for you.”
“What? No way! When did you become so sexist?” I chided playfully.
“I’m not being sexist, but it sounds like expert surfers only. You’re good, thanks to my amazing teaching skills, but you’re not that good.”
I stood up and pressed my chest into his, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Oh yeah? Is that a challenge?” I said seductively.
He rubbed my arms. “It just sounds dangerous, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“And you think I would want something to happen to you?” I raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Of course not.” He pulled me in closer, slipping his hands underneath the back of my shirt. “I just couldn’t live without you,” he whispered and then kissed the top of my head.
“Ditto.” I lifted on my tiptoes and kissed him. He returned it with a deeper, more passionate one.
“Who knew planning could be so sexy?” He bent down and kissed behind my ear, nibbling his way down my neck while his hands explored my skin further.
I tilted my head back, breathing deeper as he found every sweet spot. He had explored me a million times and had become an expert in every crevice of my body.
As he unbuttoned my jeans, he whispered, “Let’s make a baby.”
My body stiffened. “What?”
“You heard me.” His fingers sank deeper, eliciting a squeal of pleasure from me.
I dug my nails into the back of his neck as he went deeper. It hadn’t been the first time we had talked about starting a family, but this was the first time he had wanted to act on it.
“What about the bucket list?” I moaned out, gripping the back of his neck for leverage as he worked me from the inside.
“I guess we better get on it then.” He covered my lips with his, pulling me to the floor and showing me how serious he was about having a baby.
I didn’t get pregnant from that encounter or any others after. It wasn’t until a year later that we had become disheartened.
“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be,” I tried to comfort him over dinner one night. Our predicament had hit him harder than me, and although I had always imagined having children, there was so much I still wanted to do with just Bridger. I wasn’t in a rush. Children complicated things, no matter how much joy and fulfillment they brought with them.
“Do you not want kids?” He snapped, surprising me.
“I didn’t say that. It’s just, we are still young, Bridger. We have time. This isn’t the end all be all.”
