Page 114 of A Million Times, Yes
She slowly looked at me. “I guess we’re about to find out if I do.”
I stepped onto the back of the yacht and helped her on board, leading her toward the driver’s seat, the oversize cushion wide enough to fit us both. I turned on the batteries and engines and loaded the navigation.
“Jesus,” she groaned. “Is that a downstairs?” She pointed at the entrance to the cabins.
“There’s three bedrooms down there. Three bathrooms. A kitchen and a lounge area.”
She sucked in her lips, holding them like that until she said, “You own a private plane and a boat the size of my wing at the rehab center. Eventually, I’ll wrap my head around all of this, but right now my mind is blown.”
“I get it.” I kissed her forehead. “But it just seems like a lot because you’re seeing so much of it at once. If you view it as a whole picture, it’s less overwhelming.”
“It’s cute that you see it that way.” She laughed. “But from an outsider who’s now very much on the inside, I can’t even begin to process what you have.” She playfully slapped my arm. “You have to admit, this is all bananas.”
I nodded. “It is, for sure. And somehow, someway, you’re going to grow to love it.”
“I love you, Jordan. You come with all this, which means I love it too. But even if you only had the clothes you’re wearing and not a single dollar in your bank account, that wouldn’t change how I feel about you. I want you to know that.” She touched my chest. “I’m here for you. No other reason.”
I took her hand off my heart and held it to my mouth, and then I kissed her smile and each spot it reached on her cheeks. “God, you make me so fucking happy.”
“Same. Times a million.”
I made sure all the controls were in order, that there was plenty of gas, that the joystick and bow thruster were on before I said, “You’re going to spend a lot of time on this boat while we’re here, so I want you to feel comfortable on it. We’ll take it to see some of the different islands in the Bahamas. Maybe we’ll even stay a night on it.”
“Do you always leave your boat here, or do you ever bring it north?”
“It stays here mostly, but one of my favorite trips is going across the Atlantic and docking in Key West for a night and then cruising to either the Gulf Coast or the east coast of Florida. We’ll do that at some point too—if you can get the time off from work.” I paused. “I’m hoping you can.”
“I’m working on it.”
I rested my forehead against hers. “I’m not trying to put pressure on you. I just want you with me wherever I go—and that can be multiple places in a month or even a week.”
Her arm slipped around my lower back. “I want that, too, and I think, with Emily’s help, I’ve figured out a way to make that happen.”
“Just the news I wanted to hear.”
Several dockhands who I’d been waiting for surrounded the boat and gave me a signal through the windshield. My thumbs-up let them know I was ready to be untied, and once the lines were off and we were clear to move, I carefully worked my way into the open water.
“I barely feel the waves,” Maya said after several minutes into the trip.
“That’s because of the design of the ship. It’s built for the stability to handle deep waters. My brother and I like to take it a hundred miles or so offshore and go fishing.”
“I’ve seen that on TV. I think I would die from seasickness.”
“You might on some boats—not on this one. At least, on a good day of weather, that’s true. But there have been times when we’ve been out that far, and the chop gets pretty extreme. The waves can climb to six, seven, even eight-foot seas, and that’s when I’m popping Dramamine.” I hugged her against me. “But don’t worry. Before we island hop or boatto Florida, I’ll study the weather. We won’t go out until I know you can handle it. You’re safe with me.”
She gazed into my eyes. “I never questioned that.”
I walked out of my bedroom, running my hand over my wet hair, smelling the island’s unique scent in the air, and as I passed through the kitchen and halfway to the living room, I saw her. She was standing in front of the openness—the wall of glass that tucked into pockets on both sides of the house—that showcased the view. She was looking at the wide patio that extended off my home and the infinity pool and spa, an area that was framed by tropical greenery. Beyond, not more than twenty yards, was the beach. A strip of sand where the ocean lapped and the long deck where the boat sat at the end.
But while she was taking in the scenery, I was staring at her.
Sheer white curtains hung in sections from the ceiling, and one flirted with her, the wind wrapping the material around Maya’s bare legs, her wet hair blowing just as hard as the fabric.
My assistant had been instructed to purchase a month’s worth of clothes for Maya, along with cosmetics and makeup—whatever Carrie thought Maya would use or need—and had everything shipped here. My housekeeper had unboxed those items and set them up in the closet and en suite. While I took a call, Maya showered, and when I was finally able to get into the shower, Maya was already out here.
Out of all the clothes she could have put on, she chose spandex shorts and a sports bra.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to join you in the shower.” My face went into her neck, my hands around her stomach. “That call was from an important sponsor. Most people I can send to voicemail, but I can’t do that with this client.”
