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At the time, when I was staying at the monastery, I had my whole life in front of me, and I remember feeling such hope that I was on the way to finding the answer to a successful, happy life. I’m hardly old, at thirty, but it didn’t quite work out the way I’d hoped. I thought I’d be married with a couple of kids and in a stable, rewarding job. I am happy in the job, but I feel some disappointment at not being settled in my personal life, to the point where I’ve made the decision to stay single. Instead, here I am with a man I hardly know, trying to get pregnant. Am I mad?
“Penny for them.” Marc’s voice behind me makes me jump. I hadn’t heard him come up the stairs. He slides his arms around my waist from behind, moves up close to me, and nuzzles my neck. He’s only wearing his boxers. Mmm. I might be mad, but if I am, I don’t care.
“Just thinking about the ocean,” I tell him. “And how exciting it must have been to be an explorer.”
“You have wanderlust in your soul, don’t you?” he teases, nibbling my earlobe.
“Maybe a little.”
“Do you wish you’d traveled more?”
“I don’t know… perhaps.” I sigh. “I was thinking about being in the monastery, and all the hopes and dreams I had when I was there.”
He rests his lips on my hair. “You can’t feel wistful about your achievements, surely? You’ve done so well. Traveled, become a teacher, and now you’re in a rewarding job changing children’s lives.”
My lips curve up. “I like that you see it that way. But yes, I do feel a bit wistful. Everyone has dreams when they’re young, don’t they? About finding Mr. Right, settling down, having two-point-four kids by the time they’re thirty. We all have romantic ideals about love.” I place a hand over his where it rests on my ribs, under my breasts. “Do you believe in soul mates?”
“I don’t know.” He rests his cheek on the top of my head, looking out across the ocean. “I don’t think most men have the same idealistic notions that women have when they’re younger, to be honest. I don’t think our expectations are as high. We don’t expect perfection. We just hope we’ll find someone who’ll put up with our odd ways, who’ll want to sleep with us from time to time, and who’ll hold us at night. Or maybe I’m just getting old.”
I give a short laugh. He’s probably right. We all hope for that ideal person who understands us and can anticipate our every need, but nobody’s perfect.
I think about Noah, who lost the love of his life, but who’s now found happiness with Abby and Ethan. If we do have soul mates, does that mean he has two? Or that Abby has to take second place? Izzy and Hal, Nix and Leon, and Remy and Albie—are they all soul mates? Or have they all settled for a person who’s maybe a little more right for them than the other people they’ve met?
I assumed Daniel wasn’t my soul mate because he made me unhappy in so many ways, but maybe I was being foolish in being dissatisfied because he wasn’t perfect for me. Should I have tried harder? Attempted to make a go of the relationship? I can’t bring myself to feel sorrow at our breakup, though. He was cruel to me, emotionally and, occasionally, physically—he didn’t hit me or anything, but he could be quite rough. I can’t imagine Marc ever saying the kind of things that Daniel said to me, and, so far anyway, he’s been nothing but gentle in the bedroom. Our last session might have been a little bit more… energetic, but I can’t imagine him ever hurting me.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“Yesterday,” I tell him. “What we did in bed.”
He bends his head and kisses my neck. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes,” I say, somewhat shyly. “I was thinking how different you are from Daniel.”
“I should hope so. I don’t understand any man not wanting to give their woman pleasure. It’s so… satisfying.” He touches his tongue to my neck, making me shiver.
“It turns you on,” I whisper.
“Yes.” He sucks gently, his hands rising to cup my breasts.
