For the last few days, Derek and I haven’t left the room once. Just kidding. Truthfully, we’ve been jam-packed busy at the resort. We finally took that coral reef snorkeling tour. Had an afternoon shopping adventure in the local open-air market. A day trip to visit and swim in the most beautiful cenotes that seriously were too pretty to be real. And a spa day where we got couples massages and had an unfortunate incident with the sheet that I’d like to put out of my mind for eternity.
All of it feels like I’m living in a dream because I’m getting to experience it with Derek. We’ve spent these days completely wrapped up in each other—relearning who the other is now. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I have over the last week in my entire life. Not only that, but we’ve sat under the stars at night on the beach filling each other in on all the life events we’ve missed out on over the years. Like how Derek’s teeth are so perfect because they’re actually veneers he paid thousands of dollars for and hasn’t regretted once. And how he and his friends helped get Nathan and Bree together through a romantic cheat sheet. And how I’m completely obsessed with The Great British Bake Off and secretly dream of going on the show one day even though I’m American and have zero baking abilities. In quieter moments, he’s also opened up to me more about what living with dyslexia has been like. How hard it was to be treated like he wasn’t trying when endlessly trying was all he was ever doing. I want to fix his hurt—take away the wounds, but I can’t, so I whisper how proud of him I
am and cuddle him into oblivion, shifting through his feelings together as best we can.
But our nights…our nights have nothing to do with the article and are completely our own. We spend them in each other’s arms. It goes something like this: We stumble in dead tired from a day of exploring and smiling for a photo shoot, and shower and then get hit with a second wind that we absolutely burn off in the most delicious ways.
Which is why now, it’s late and we’re both sweaty and exhausted as I fall into Derek’s arms for the most epic snuggle of my life. He trails his fingers softly down my bare spine and my body shivers in response.
“Are you worried about going back? To the office?” Derek asks me, his voice so lazy I can tell he’s as sleepy as I am. I know why he’s asking, though. Marty emailed me a link today of an online tabloid with a picture of when Derek and I first kissed on the beach. He was careful with his wording in the message—but the slight was unmistakable: Thought you might like to be aware of the sort of image your honeymoon is giving off, so you don’t jeopardize your professionalism. Would hate for other male athletes to get the wrong impression of you.
I nuzzle in closer. “A little.” I pause. “Okay, a lot.”
Derek casually offered to end the man’s life for me (he was kidding…I think) but I declined. I did, however, forward the email to our HR department. Unfortunately, they said there was nothing in the email that was strictly offensive or inappropriate (due to his strategic wording and that it was a link to a photo rather than an actual screenshot). It probably doesn’t help that Marty plays golf with those same guys from HR either.
I curl up closer to Derek. “Or…I guess it’s not really that I’m worried, as much as I am maybe sort-of, kind-of dreading it.”
Derek’s fingers continue to track over my skin like they’re blazing a future trail. “You know, if you wanted to quit and find somewhere with a less toxic environment, I’d follow you wherever you go. I mean, not sure how much that means coming from an athlete who might be out of the job in a few months. But you have options.”
“Quit being a tuna sandwich! Of course it means a lot. In the next few months, rockets are going to want to be you when they grow up from how high you’re going to soar.” He laughs a quiet rumbly laugh. I close my eyes and savor the feel of it vibrating through me. “Truthfully, though, I’m starting to doubt that anywhere less toxic exists. I’m afraid it’s just the world of sports and if I want to live in it, I’ll have to get thicker skin.”
He hums and pulls me tightly against him. “That doesn’t sound very Nora Mackenzie–like to me.”
I angle my chin up, resting it on his chest to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“The Nora I know doesn’t adapt to something she doesn’t like. She changes it.” His hand strokes over my hair.
I breathe out. “That Nora is tired. She’s ready for someone else to take on the world.”
Derek wraps his arms around me and flips up over so he’s pinning me in. He kisses my jaw and nuzzles his face against the crook of my neck. “Keep resting with me, then, and when we get back, you’ll figure out how to bring those assholes to their knees.” He kisses my neck and then pulls back to look in my eyes. “And if you need any help, just say the word and I’ll be there.”
I smile and he dips his head to capture it against his.
Unfortunately, no sooner than his mouth claims mine does his phone begin ringing loudly on the bedside table. We both startle and Derek’s hand dashes out to fumble for it. “Sorry, I thought it was on silent,” he rasps as he retrieves it and holds it up to his face.
That’s when I really think it through. It’s the middle of the night and someone is calling Derek. There’s no way this can be a good thing. I sit up as I watch Derek’s brows pinch together.
“It’s Price,” he says, adjusting to rest his back against the headboard, and flips on the light. He answers with a quick “What’s wrong?”
Derek listens silently, staring out at the room as I stare at him. I search his face for any hints to what his friend is telling him, but his expressions are made of stone. Derek’s eyes shift to me for a fraction of a second and
then he looks away, sending his hand through his messy bedhead. “Shit. Is she going to be okay? What about the baby?”
Now, I’m fully on my knees, clutching the sheet helplessly to my chest as I stare at Derek.
He hums a few times while listening before throwing the covers off his legs and swiftly standing up from the bed. “Yeah, man. Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow regardless.”
Derek goes to his suitcase and searches through it. Even though I don’t know what’s going on, I run to the bathroom while throwing on one of Derek’s T-shirts and then swipe everything off the counter into my toiletry bag. Even though it makes me cringe to see everything all mixed together haphazardly, I can feel it in my bones that there’s no time for organizing. We can separate our things out later.
“Like hell,” Derek replies aggressively to something Price says. “I’m coming back no matter what, so go be with your wife instead of wasting your time arguing with me.” Price says something else to Derek that has him responding quietly, “I will.”
Derek slips on a pair of athletic shorts after ending the call and joins me in the bathroom just in time to find me aggressively winding up the cord of my curling wand. We make eye contact through the mirror, our gazes a mash of emotions. I whirl around to face him, and the plug on the end of the cord bangs into my leg. “What is it? What happened? Are they okay?”
Derek nods but looks shaken—scared. I’ve never seen him like this before, and it bothers me. I want to fix whatever this is because suddenly I have the distinct feeling that Derek makes up my entire heart. I’ve never doubted that what I felt for Derek back in college was love. But now…I feel love love. It’s different somehow. Inarticulate and elegant all at once. Soothing and aching. Before, my love for him lived on the outside of my skin, and now he’s wormed his way into my chest cavity and pumps through every chamber of my heart. When he’s hurting, I’m hurting.
“Price’s wife, Hope, went into labor several weeks early.” “Is she going to be okay?”
He nods. “She’s all right and her doctor is confident that even though she’s a little early, she’s far enough along for the baby to be safely delivered. Price is mainly freaked out because it’s finally hitting him that he’s going to be a dad.”
“Oh,” I say with a relieved sigh, and then swat him in the chest. “I thought…by the look on your face…I thought something was wrong.”
“There is something wrong.” He pauses, a furrow gathering between his brows. “I need to ask you if we can cut our honeymoon short and go home early. I want to be there for him…but I don’t want to end this yet either.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something like We can always go on another honeymoon when everything settles down, but I stop myself. We haven’t precisely figured out our future yet. And I’m too scared to ask him if I’m going to be in his. Old wounds rear their heads and tell me there’s a chance he’ll replace me. Someone easier will come along. Someone who’s not already mentally reorganizing the toiletry bag and cringing with every second that passes where our things are swirling together like a toddler’s fingerpainting project.
So instead, I step up to him and wrap my arms around his bare waist. “Turn that frown upside down, because I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I kiss the front of his shoulder. “Let’s go home. This is important for your friend, and you need to be there for him.”
Derek’s lips press to the top of my head and I hear him drag in a deep breath. His arms tighten around my waist, and maybe I’m projecting, but I feel so many unvoiced concerns in his hold. Neither of us says them. We’re both too scared, or worried, or afraid of pushing the other too far too fast. The communication that felt so open and free over the last few days suddenly seals up, airtight.
