AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The soft female voice sends a hot stir through me.
Sylvie joins me, nudging my elbow. “If I had a view like this, I’d never leave. I’d also get nothing done.”
I smile. “Want to go for a walk before dinner?”
“Is it okay? I mean, won’t they miss us?”
I look at my mother and father immersed in lively conversation with other guests. Tonight is a casual dinner for our side of the family. “They’ll survive if we ditch them for twenty minutes.”
“Great, because although these heels are expensive, they’re as uncomfortable as any from a discount store,” Sylvie says, sliding out of her four-inch heels. She cocks her head toward the steps leading to the beach.
I remove my shoes, and we leave them by the steps, exiting the area without being noticed.
We walk in the sand, following a path along the beach, acknowledging a couple of tourists on the way. The pleasure of strolling alongside her fills my heart. I can’t explain it. I’ve never felt so complete, so… happy just being with someone.
What the fuck is happening to me?
“Your family is nice,” Sylvie says, breaking the silence.
“Whatever my mom tells you about me is a lie, just so you know.”
She chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind. Your sister and cousins have welcomed me. I wasn’t sure how I’d be treated since she’s still friends with your ex. But I’m grateful they’re all mature about it.”
Thankfully, I overheard Leslie say Tamara won’t arrive in Honolulu until tomorrow. At least we’ll enjoy this first dinner with no tension.
“They aren’t that mature. My mom wonders why I haven’t found someone to commit to since I left my ex,” I say, the words flowing from my lips without much forethought.
Sylvie stops walking. “If the right person came along, would you be able to commit again?”
I glance at her. Glimpsing some bushes to the right, I walk toward them, looking for a more remote space as if talking about my deeper emotions will expose me somehow. Sylvie follows me until we’re facing each other in an alcove of green lit by a single tiki torch.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she says. “I get it.”
I run my fingers through my hair. I never mastered these deep conversations. Certainly not with people I don’t fully trust. Though how can I keep anything from Sylvie? “I like to think I would commit again. I broke my marriage and felt wrong to do it. Tamara changed her mind about having kids after we married, but shouldn't she have been enough for me? I questioned my failed marriage. Questioned myself. If I loved her enough, shouldn’t I have been fine with her decision?”
“I know what it’s like to question yourself,” Sylvie says, her eyes compassionate.
I lean against a tree. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be a good partner for anyone after my divorce.” Hell, I’m still not sure. Isn’t that why I haven’t found someone else or engaged in a more meaningful relationship?
She steps toward me. “That’s fair. You weren’t ready right after your divorce. When the time’s right, things will fall into place.”
“Yes, but I’m a doer,” I say, frustration sifting through my voice. My shoulders are tight, my body taut. “I’m used to solving problems and making things fall into place, not waiting for the universe to do its job and send them my way. I’m not even sure I believe that kind of thing.”
“You should,” she says softly.
My gaze searches for hers. “Why?”
A smile that lights up the entire evening dances on her lips. “Because we should believe in something. Even when we don’t.”
She squeezes my hand. I'm sure she meant to comfort me and show she's here for me, but the contact sends a million charges through my body like it can't respond to her any other way.
“Are you always this optimistic?” My heart jackhammers as I caress the inside of her wrist.
Sylvie shudders, and her lips tremble slightly. “No, I’m usually a bundle of nerves.” She pushes onto her tiptoes and brushes her lips against my cheek.
I pull her close, and she wraps her arms around me. I lower my lips to hers, and she swipes her tongue over mine. An electrifying response surges within me, and my common sense is a distant memory, like a flicker of light from a faraway lighthouse.
I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t kiss her and complicate things further.
