The Ohana Cottage

23

MIA

I wake up with John behind me, his arm draped around me. I can feel his breath softly exhaling on the back of my neck. I roll over very gently so I’m facing him and tuck myself under his head, getting as close as I possibly can. My arms are curled in front of me, resting on the brick wall that is his stomach. I feel his arm tighten around my back.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he whispers, his jaw resting on the top of my head.

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”

I’m not sure what to say next, so I don’t say anything for a while.

“Let’s go to the beach today,” I suggest, knowing that the ocean always seems to help him. Maybe surfing can be my backup therapy today… God knows I’m running out of ideas on how to get through to him.

“That sounds good.”

I let him hold me, soaking him up, trying to forget about last night. I wish we could stay in this bed together forever, with his arm around me, where I feel so connected to him. He squeezes me tighter, kisses the top of my head, and then rolls the other way to climb out of bed. I watch him go, until he’s all the way out of sight, then throw back the covers. I pull on my olive green swimsuit and throw my black cover-up over it. After brushing my teeth and pulling my hair up into a bun, I walk into the kitchen, where John’s laid a bowl of cereal and a plate of papaya out for me.

“You know the way to my heart,” I say with a smile. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping coffee. He gives me a gentle smile and watches me while I eat my breakfast. After the kitchen is cleaned up, we grab some towels and head over to the house so John can throw on some swim trunks.

“Do you want to grab your surfboard?” I ask as we walk through the garage to the driveway.

“Nah, I don’t feel like surfing today.”

“Oh, okay.” He takes my hand, and we walk in silence past Rose’s house to the beach access trail. Once we make it onto the beach, we find a spot to sit and lay out our towels. Before I sit, I have a better idea.

“I think I’m gonna go for a swim—wanna come?” I ask him, pulling my cover-up over my head.

“Sure,” John replies.

“Race you!” I call out as I start jogging. John’s face breaks out into a grin as he starts charging for me. Next thing I know, we’re sprinting towards the water like two kids without a care in the world.

My feet splash into the turquoise water two seconds behind John’s. Laughing loudly, I do a small victory dance before I wade into the water. Sighing, I spread my arms out wide and tilt my head back to feel the sun. I feel a strong, muscular arm wrap around my middle, and I squeal as John pulls me deeper into the water.

His arm still firmly around me, he backs up until the ocean is up to my shoulders. He pulls me closer, and I wrap my legs around his waist, winding my arms around his shoulders. His hands slide to my butt and stay planted there as he carries me around in the water. His hands radiate heat, the contact sending waves of warmth rushing through me. My body always responds to his touch, and I wonder if that would ever go away.

“This is nice… I could stay like this forever,” I murmur into his ear. He pulls back slightly to look me in the eyes.

“You can.”

“You’d carry me around everywhere?” I ask with a smile.

He responds by giving me one of the warm smiles I love so much. “I’d carry you anywhere you want to go.” His expression shifts, and he transforms into serious John. “Have you thought any more about moving here?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. I really want to, John. I can’t imagine leaving you now, but I’m scared.”

He nods. “It’s a big decision.”

“I just need more time to think about it, okay?”

“Take all the time you need. I only want you to stay if it’s what you really want to do.”

I give him a soft smile in response, feeling a small wave crash into our shoulders. I wonder if things would be different if he knew the key to me staying is giving me more of what’s inside him. If he did, I would stay in a heartbeat.

We swim around—or rather, John carries me around—for a while until he reluctantly releases me so we can walk back to our towels.

“Do you want to walk down the beach to that little tiki hut and grab some burritos for lunch?” I ask, drying my arms with the towel.

“Sure,” he replies, reaching for his sunglasses. We walk along the beach, stopping at the tiki hut and eating our burritos on the walk back. We spend another two hours lying on the beach, soaking up the sun. Eventually, we pack up our towels and head back to the house.

“What do you want to do for dinner?” I ask on the walk back.

“I have chicken in the fridge; why don’t we grill out by the pool and then bring it back to the cottage to eat? I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough sun for the day.”

“That sounds wonderful! I just need a quick shower first.” When we arrive at the cottage, I go straight to the laundry room and throw our towels in the washing machine, start it up, and then turn toward the bathroom. I round the corner and find John propped up on the wall, waiting.

He gives me a devilish grin. “What a coincidence. I happen to need a shower, too.” His arms come around me, and he dance-walks me backward toward the bathroom.

My mouth curls up into a flirtatious smile. “Is that so?”

“Yup.” He picks me up and carries me towards the shower, peppering kisses on my neck as one hand reaches to turn the shower on. He gently sets me on my feet so he can peel my swimsuit off, unfastening the straps in the back first and letting the top fall to the ground. He slips his hands down to my hips and inside my swimsuit bottoms, sliding them slowly down until I kick them aside. I return the favor by untying and pulling down his swim trunks. He picks me back up and climbs into the shower, where he so graciously helps me get clean.

* * *

“That was so good,” I say as I walk an empty plate over to the sink. John comes up behind me, sets the salad bowl in the sink, then places a hand on my low back, kissing my cheek.

“It was. Thanks for making the salad.”

“Of course. It was the least I could do.” John clears the rest of the table while I load the dishes in the dishwasher. Grabbing another plate to rinse, I hear my phone ring on the counter. “Hey, do you mind seeing who that is? My hands are all wet.” It’s silent for a few moments, except for the sound of my phone ringing.

“John?”

“Sean,” John says in a cold, flat voice.

“What?” I turn around, and John must miss the confusion on my face because he asks, “Why is Sean calling your phone?”

“Uh, I have no idea. I haven’t spoken to him since I left home, so I’m not sure why he would be calling.”

The phone stops ringing as it sends Sean to voicemail.

“Are you gonna call him back?” John asks sharply. His tone is intense, and demanding. My stomach starts to sink, not fully understanding his reaction.

“Um… I’m not sure... I mean, probably? I guess to see what he wants?”

“Are you serious? Why would you talk to him?” he asks, growing angrier by the second. His face is turning red, and his eyes are burning into mine.

Wait… what?

Why is he mad at me? I’m stunned at his reaction, and I feel prickles of anger starting to build in my chest.

“Hold on—you can’t seriously be upset with me right now because Sean called my phone.”

“I’m not. I’m irritated that you would want to call him back and talk to him.” He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

I blink a few times, staring at him, wondering for a brief second if I should give him space to cool off, but anger takes over, and I shake my head.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t get to be mad at me right now.” My voice gets louder as disbelief and anger rise within me. “That’s not fair at all. I can’t talk to my ex—who I have known most of my life—yet you won’t even tell me who a simple person is that texted you?” I dry my hands on the towel and march into the living room, unable to stop fuming at his hypocrisy. Spinning around, I point my finger at him.

“Who the hell is Adam, John? Huh? You won’t tell me who he even is to you, yet you can be mad that someone from my life—who you know all about, by the way—calls my phone? Are you serious right now?”

John continues to glare at me, clenching his jaw. I shake my head. “I think I’ve been more than patient with you, John. Is it too much to ask that you do the same for me?” I ask, my voice coming back down to normal. He gives me nothing, just his eyes piercing into mine.

“That’s it? You’re not gonna say anything?” I let out a sigh and look at the floor. I’m so frustrated I can’t stand to even look at him right now.

“Maybe you should go,” I say quietly. I refuse to look up, but out of the corner of my eye I can see John move quickly toward the door and shut it gently behind him. The sound of the door clicking shut causes a rush of dread to flow through me. I collapse onto the couch and let the tears stream down my face. How did this night end up this way? What the hell is his problem, coming at me like that? Unbelievable.

I sit for a few minutes to let my anger cool down, taking a couple of deep breaths. When I finally feel calmer, I glance out the window over at the main house. The lights are off, which means he probably went right to his bedroom. I start to feel disgusted with myself, because all I can think about is how I know John hates to sleep alone.

Really, Mia? Don’t cave. Hold your ground.

I ignore myself, and against my better judgment, I change into my pajamas and walk out the cottage door. The entire walk over, I question what the hell I’m doing. Am I sacrificing my own feelings for the sake of his? To make him feel more comfortable? The simple answer would be yes, but I can’t bring myself to turn around.

When I reach the sliding pool door, I find it unlocked. Knowing John usually locks it at night, I take that as an invitation. An olive branch. I open the door and slip inside, walking quietly down the hall, not wanting to wake him. I don’t want to talk to him right now, I just want to crawl into bed and fall asleep—which is exactly what I do.