Summer Ever After

“You girls are adults, figure it out, Abigail. I don’t care who has done what. We have a business to run.”

“But—” Typical, my dad doesn’t hear anything I even attempted to say.

“But, nothing. I’ve entertained your tantrum long enough.”

Huffing, I feel my eyes rolling and my attitude going to shit with sarcasm. “I don’t know if I can come back.” The only times I feel small in my life are when I’m forced to interact with my dad this way.

“Well, I’m not sure I can a hold a job here for you, unless you come back.” Dad’s really good with ultimatums, and usually I cave before we even get to this point, but I need this time to regroup and figure everything out.

I don’t know how to respond besides chickening out. “Dad, my phone reception is cutting out. What’s that?”

“Abigail! You better get your ass back to this office before Labor Day or else!” Dad yells into the phone. I pretend to not hear him. I don’t want to hear the ‘or else.’

“Huh? I better go! Crssssshhhhh!” I make a loud noise and hang up on my dad. All I can do is stare at the screen before dropping it back inside my purse. I know it’s lame, irresponsible, and childish, but it was seriously the best I could do. I need to think about this. Do I want to go back and work under duress or lose everything I’ve worked for so far? I wasn’t happy in LA, and I’m just starting to learn what happy looks and feels like with Roman.

* * * * *

There is so much baggage back home in LA. It’s too much to think about, so I do what I’m good at and push it away deep down to where I don’t have to deal with it right now. I take the stairs down, slowly pausing on each step, and stand before the boat. Roman’s beautiful boat. Pride beams deep in my chest for him. This one is wood and sanded so fine it feels like silk when I run my fingers over the grain of the boards. No danger of getting a splinter here. Roman’s work is flawless. He’s worked the wood so fine it’s like an extension of Roman and all things good. The bottom hull of the watercraft is painted bright blue with a white stripe at the top.

I imagine Roman spending countless hours sanding and smoothing the boat to the perfect shape before applying the paint and glossy varnish lovingly. I admire how he’s created something so unbelievably picture-perfect with his own hands. Closing my eyes, I lose myself, visualizing the future waves the small vessel will skiff once she’s in the water under the command of the man who touched me gently an hour earlier. I wonder what kind of day he will launch the boat on and if I will see it happen.

“Abby, I’m back.” Roman shouts from upstairs and my mind clears back to a blank slate. “Are you hiding on me, Hollywood?” He must have taken the elevator all the way up to the bedroom level, thinking I would stay up there.

“I’m down here, sailor,” I call back, hearing him skip down the stairs. The aroma of strong coffee follows him,

permeating the air.

“Coffee for my beautiful girl.” Roman puts one thickly banded arm around me as one hand holds the coffee under my nose. Spicy scents are nothing compared to the man in front of me.

“Mmm… Thank you.” I look down at his project, needing to tell him how much I respect what he’s created with his own hands. “Roman, this boat… she is magnificent.” His arm squeezes me tight, and after the conversation with my dad, I know without a doubt Roman is my safe place in the storm.

ROMAN

I slip outside after tucking Abby back into bed. My bed. She looked so delicious and sleepy, but a man has to eat if he’s going to satisfy his woman. So here I am outside my building, thanking whatever higher power convinced Abigail Holliday to take a chance on me as I skip, yes, fucking skip to the nearest Starbucks. I place an order for two coffees and some pastries to go. My stomach grumbles, rolling with need, and I’m pretty sure nothing could ruin my day today.

I’m hungry so I sneak a bite of one of the glazed items, letting the sugar rush power my brain in a surge of happiness. It’s nothing like home in Gold Beach, but it does the trick in a pinch. As I turn around, my mouth full of sweetness, I nearly bump into someone, barely holding on to my coffees and the bag. “Whoa, sorry about that.” I muffle through crumbs and sugar, not looking up because I’m in a hurry to get back.

“No worries, Win. I wondered if I would see you in town.” My heart freezes when I hear that voice. Swallowing the rest of my snack, which now resembles chalk in my mouth, I turn back and look up this time.

“Sasha…” I don’t know what to say. Sasha Ackerman was one of the few women I dated somewhat seriously, though I never took her to my place. I certainly spent enough time at hers right up until she gave me the ‘relationship ultimatum’ every guy hates. I didn’t love her and I couldn’t commit, so I did right thing by letting her go. I had a feeling she wasn’t in accord with my decision.

“Oh, I know it’s been awhile. I took that job in Chicago with my bank, but I decided to transfer back. I never did like the windy city. Seattle will always be my home, you know.” Sasha smiles and I wonder if she thinks I’m still up for getting together. Awkward really when I think about it.

“Listen, I uh… I’ve got to go, but it was nice seeing you. Welcome back.” I casually let the sentiment linger and pray she doesn’t want to catch up.

“Yeah, you too. I’ll give you a call sometime.” Sasha backpedals out of Starbucks with her own coffee and makes her way down the opposite block of mine. I watch her leave, hoping when she disappears around the corner it will be the last time I run into her. Ah shit. The last thing I want or need is Sasha Ackerman sniffing around my place while I pursue Abigail.

* * * * *

Leaving Starbucks, I walk back as fast as I can with two hot coffees radiating my hands through the paper wrap and a bag of sweet goodies. Next time, I’ll just man up and ask for the stupid paper carton so I’m not burning my fingerprint identity off my fingers. The encounter with Sasha has unnerved me a little because I realize how much a man’s past can fuck up his future if he’s isn’t careful. I get inside my apartment and call out for Abby. “Abby, I’m back. Are you hiding on me, Hollywood?”

“Down here, sailor.” I love this new nickname she’s coined me already. She’s not in the bedroom, but I spy her downstairs next to my boat, my other pretty girl, and head toward them both.

“Coffee for my beautiful girl.” My chest eases when I put my arm around her. I don’t care if it’s too soon. You try having a several weeks’ long banter with a beautiful girl who won’t give you the time of day to only find heaven once you finally coax her to play nice under the sheets.

“Mmm… Thank you. Roman, this boat… she is magnificent.” Can I totally keep this girl? Would it be creepy to just keep her here and not let her get away? We could ignore the outside world for the rest of our natural born days. The thoughts mull in my mind. Yeah, it would be a little creepy and take the fun out of our chase, but the way she touches my boat, my pride and joy, just does something to me with her unsolicited admiration.

It’s completely possible that while we can bring the worst out in each other at times, we also seem to fulfill a need we can’t verbalize, at least for me. Abby is oozing herself into the fissures of my mind and gluing the broken shit back together in a mosaic that makes sense only to me. Her presence makes me wish my dad was here to explain this shit between men and women, even though I’m a grown-ass man. It hurts to still need my parents like this at times and know they are both forever gone.