Page 84 of The Sea-Mist Cottage Inn
“Hey, querida,” he said. “What’s up?”
My love for this man, still new and shiny but fully formed, burst through my body like a comet. In this moment, fresh from my graveyard epiphany, what I felt for him was unburdened byworry or fear. The realization was so powerful it made my knees shake.
I lunged at him, threw my arms around him, planted my mouth on his.
If I’d surprised him, he recovered quickly, chuckling into my mouth as he embraced me, pulled me into the shop, and kicked the door closed. He turned us and put me against the closed door, and we stood there, making out like horny teenagers, until I was almost too dizzy to stand.
“What brought this on?” he asked in a breathless murmur when we finally took a break.
His face was so close to mine I could almost actually see into his eyes. “I love you,” I answered.
“And I love you. But it feels like there’s something else.” He squinted at me, as if his focus could be any sharper. “Something feels different.”
I smiled. “Well, I guess I had what might be called an epiphany this afternoon.”
“Yeah?” He ducked in and kissed my neck. Then he started a tasting tour, kissing his way around my neck, up to my jawline, tracing that with his lips as well.
“Yeah,” I gasped, closing my eyes and tipping my head back so he could have all the room he needed. I lost interest in conversation and fell into the sparkling delight of his mouth on my skin.
“What kind of epiphany, querida?” he asked as his lips found my ear and began to suck.
“I went to my mother’s grave today,” I mumbled, not caring about epiphanies anymore. I wanted to tear our clothes off and have sex right here.
But that sentence stopped Roman’s roaming mouth. He stood tall again and looked down at me, frowning. “What?”
I hadn’t told him about this plan, because it hadn’t been a plan until today.
He knew I’d had a lunch meeting with Jessie. An actual meeting with lunch, not a wine-soaked friend’s lunch. I’d wanted to talk about some artsy ideas I had for the Sea-Mist. The flood had caused such damage that what would have been a clean-up, repair, and refresh had turned into a full renovation. Between my line of credit and the insurance payout, the money was there (as long as I was careful), but the work would take months. It had occurred to me, however, that there was some silver in that cloud: I could make the Sea-Mist truly mine. My vision as well as my property. My vibe was more artsy than kitschy, and I didn’t care about the whole Bigfoot thing. Or the cutesy carved bears that were the other main tourist aesthetic in the California forest. Since I was all but starting over, I wanted some style to the place. As much style as my budget could support.
It was that business discussion—what kind of artsy touches I was thinking about, who did Jessie know who did that kind of work, how much would it cost, and so on—that had ultimately sent us to the cemetery. The idea of making the Sea-Mist truly mine from the ground up, of claiming a life free of her influence had, in the way comfortable conversations do, shifted without intention to a discussion of my mother, and my life with her, and my life without her—and my worries about whether I could ever make the life I wanted.
And Jessie had said told me,You are never going to be able to set aside your worries and doubts until you deal with feelings about your mom. You never stood up to her, Len. You’ve been running away from her or trying to bury her in the back of your head, but until you face her down, all that stuff will be there. You have to stop and let yourself understand it.
Wise words from my very-in-touch-with-her-feelings friend.
I didn’t want to get into all that with Roman right now, so I said, “I was talking with Jessie at lunch, and I realized I needed to finally face my mother. So I went where she is.”
Still frowning, but still holding me with his gentle strength, Roman asked, “And what did that do?”
“I don’t know if seeing her grave did anything itself. But it was the place where I let myself think about things I hadn’t before.”
“Such as? Do you want to tell me, or is it too private?”
I smiled. “That’s why I’m here, silly. Well, I’m here to jump your bones, but also to tell you I’m not afraid anymore. I left my mother’s demons at her grave.” That sounded a little crazier aloud than it had in my head, so I started to clarify: “I mean I—”
“I know what you mean.” Roman cupped my cheek in his palm—and I saw a new sparkle in his eyes. Incipient tears. “I did something like it at Carla and Gabriel’s graves. Not the same, I’m sure, but in the same ballpark. Or, I guess, graveyard.”
I tilted my head at him. “What do you mean?”
“After the first night we had dinner at my house. That was when I knew that what I felt with you was deeper than anything I’d felt since I lost them. And I knew being with you gave me real ...happinessfor the first time since then. It felt like breaking open a cocoon—and it also felt ... not wrong, but not right, either. I guess there was guilt, as if falling in love with you meant falling out of love with Carla. So I went to talk to her about it.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t think she talked back. But sitting with them, I don’t know ... it shaped the thoughts in my head, and I understood. Loving you doesn’t mean loving Carla less. It just means that I’m still living. I left there feeling ... lighter.”
Roman had just described almost the same experience, the same epiphany, I’d had in the same place.
He brought up both hands and framed my face. Peering into my eyes, he became very still, and so serious it could only be called solemn. “I want to marry you, Leo.”
My heart stuttered and my eyes blurred, but not with fear. With love, and with joy. I wanted to marry him, too. Oh god! That was the next life I wanted, for myself and for Wyatt: here, in Bluster, my hometown, full of people who’d understood me more than I’d realized and who’d welcomed me home like a long-lost daughter and embraced Wyatt like a native son. I wanted the Sea-Mist, made over in my image. And I wanted Roman, who loved the me I wanted to be, and who instinctively loved my son like his own without trying to force him into a Gabriel-shaped box.
I wanted to marry this man.
