My Kind of Love (Finding Love 1)

“Okay,” I reluctantly agree.

“Okay?”

“I’m not sorry for kissing you, but it won’t happen again. At least not without you wanting it to.” I wink, hoping to lighten the mood. “If it’s okay, I would like to keep hanging out.”

Ryan groans softly, but loud enough that I can hear him. “Micaela, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Please.” I step closer to him. “I feel like I’m finally making progress, but I’m not ready to go home yet. When I do, my parents are going to be all over me. I’m going to have to face reality, make a new plan, and I’m excited to do that, but I would really like to spend some more time with you first. Plus, if I leave, you’re not going to relax.”

The corner of Ryan’s lips tugs into a small smirk. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. You’ll probably follow me back home and then go in search of someone else to save. Now that you’ve saved me, we can focus on you relaxing.”

Ryan groans.

“Please. Just a few more days. Then we can go back to Vegas, and you can spend time with your family before you leave, and I’ll be ready to face my family and friends and start living my life.”

“Fine,” he says, giving in. “But no more kissing.”

“Fine.”

The drive home is quiet but comfortable, and once we arrive, we lie out under the stars, me with a Gatorade and Ryan with his beer, talking about the seminar and my future until I can barely keep my eyes open and Ryan insists I go to bed since we have a big day planned tomorrow.

And that’s how the week continues. Every morning Ryan wakes me up with a delicious breakfast. During the day we explore California. We go to different museums and parks and beaches. We rent bikes and scooters. We even do a day of surfing lessons. The hand holding and flirty touches have stopped, and I miss them, but I would rather have Ryan’s company without the touching than not have him at all. Every night ends with us talking under the stars.

With every activity, every conversation, it feels like a weight has been lifted off me and I can finally enjoy myself. Does it mean I’m over Ian? No, a part of me will always remember and love him. He was my first boyfriend, my first lover. I married him with the intent to spend my life with him, and we did just that, until he took his final breath. When he died, I refused to move forward, didn’t want to experience life without him, didn’t want to create new memories he couldn’t be a part of. But now I realize I can still love him and mourn him and miss him while living my life.

Then, one day, I sit down and finally write him a letter. When I’m done, I read over the three pages where I tell him I loved him and how much I miss him but promise to live my life for the both of us. I’m not sure what to do with it, and when I tell Ryan, he suggests I hold onto it for now, and when the time comes, I will know what to do with it.

While I text with my mom, so she knows I’m okay, for the most part I’ve lost track of the days, absorbed with what we’re doing, so I’m shocked when one evening, there’s a knock on the door, followed by Lexi yelling, “Micaela Anderson! I know your ass is here!”

My stomach knots at the sound of Ian’s last name, but for the first time, I don’t lose it. Not a single tear comes. Instead, I find myself smiling. I have his last name. A small piece of him. One day I’ll get married and it will change, but for right now I get to have his name. A reminder that we were so in love we got married. I vowed to love him until the end of time, and even though he’s gone, I’m going to do just that.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, turning the water from the sink off. I was doing the dishes while Ryan takes a shower. We just finished eating dinner. He grilled steaks and shrimp and zucchini, and I baked a couple potatoes.

“You posted a picture of the sunset on your Insta.” She rolls her eyes, and Georgia laughs. “Forgot to turn your location off.” Shit, I didn’t even think about that. I really have been lost in my own world.

“You look a lot better,” Georgia says, wrapping her arms around me for a hug.

“I feel better,” I admit.

“You’ve got a gorgeous little tan going on,” Lexi says. “How long have you been hiding out here? You seriously look great.”

“Thank you, and who says I’m hiding?”