Page 97 of Fight Or Flight

I hada few more tricks up my sleeve when it came to surprising Eric for the weekend. Once we checked into the motel, we changed into our bathing suits and made our way down to the beach. It was a lot different from the first time our toes touched the sand. There was no bonfire or booze. No pot either. It was just us soaking up some rays, frolicking in the ocean like two carefree lovers with the world at their fingertips.

Around four we left the beach. The sun had knocked the both of us out and we wound up taking a little nap before getting ready for dinner. As much as I enjoyed our fun in the sun, crawling into bed with Eric after taking a shower was quite possibly the highlight of my day. There was no worry if we’d be caught, no setting the alarm and sneaking out of his bed. It was like a glimpse into the future.

Eventually, we tore ourselves from the safety of the sheets and headed to the restaurant. It was nothing crazy, just a little crab shack by the water. Eric loved seafood—even the raw stuff. Me, not so much, but they had lots of options and this weekend was about him.

When we arrived, the hostess took us to our table, where my next surprise waited. The Wildwood tradition isn’t just about celebrating your freedom from school, it’s about one last hoorah with your friends and so, I invited Danny, Tabitha, Robert, and their cousins Luca and Victoria to join us. Luca had driven them all and after dinner and some fun on the boardwalk, he would take them back to Staten Island.

As soon as Eric spotted his friends, brother, and cousins, he turned to me and hugged me so tight I had trouble drawing in a breath.

“I love you,” he whispered against my ear. “I love you so fucking much it’s scary.” He loosened his arms from around my body and took my face in his hands. “Scarier than any war,” he rasped before crashing his mouth over mine.

Later, when our car hit the top of the Ferris Wheel, I asked him what he meant by that. He took my hand, brushed his lips across my knuckles, and when his eyes found mine there was so much emotion radiating from them.

“What I feel for you is so strong it consumes every part of me, Brook. If I ever lost you, I don’t think I’d survive, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”

I don’t know where that came from, but I quickly assured him that there wasn’t a shot in hell that he’d ever lose me. I was in—all in. I was ready to combat every fear and leap with both feet. The love bug bit me and it bit me hard, just like my mom always said it would.

* * *

The boardwalk wasa lot of fun and now, thanks to Eric, we’re the proud parents of two goldfish, Splish and Splash. I didn’t have a very good track record with carnival fish. My mom had taken me to the state carnival every year as a kid, and every year I wound up winning a fish. And every year we wound up flushing that fish the next day.

“We’re going to need a tank and some fish food,” Eric says, lifting the clear plastic bag. “Daddy can’t tell if your Splish or Splash.” He frowns and turns to me. “We should’ve labeled the bags.”

He actually looks concerned that he doesn’t know which one is which. I lift the bag I’m holding to his and try to decide which is bigger.

“This one is Splash,” I say, pointing to one of the goldfish. “It’s the bigger one.”

He studies both fish for a moment before grinning back at me.

“You’re right,” he says, giving my nose a peck. “Such a good little fish mommy. When we get home, we’ll go to the pet store and grab a nice bowl, gravel, and maybe even get our little guys one of those little houses to hide in but for now, we should get one of those little plastic ones with a handle. There’s a place right there that sells them.”

Tagging my hand, he starts for the shop, but his feet come to a skidding halt just outside the front doors.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, following his gaze to the shop next door. A mischievous grin works his lips as he turns back to me.

“Feel like living dangerously, my pretty little hurricane?”

I probably should’ve been a little cautious, maybe even ask what he had in mind before letting him lead me into the tattoo shop, but the truth is, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do with Eric—danger be damned. So when he suggested matching tattoos? I took the first session.

A little while later we strolled into the shop next door, holding hands and sporting new ink on our wrists.

On Eric’s right wrist the word hers stood boldly in my handwriting.

And on my left wrist, in his handwriting, was the word his.

Near or far,

Together forever.

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