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“I got drunk my first night here to fill the white noise. I’m still not used to it.” His eyes move to the ocean as he asks quietly, “How do you deal with the pain?”
“My mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was young, so the loss of her was always on the horizon. Even when the treatments were working and things were looking good, she was never in the clear. I knew I’d eventually lose her. I just didn’t know when, so I had a lot of time to get used to the idea.” I shake my head. “You’d think I’d be used to the heavy weight by now, that it and I would be old friends, but there are some things there is no getting used to.” I draw in a breath. “So I guess my answer is I don’t know if I’ve dealt with the pain or just tucked it away and distracted myself.”
“Yeah,” he says softly, and he’s probably one of the very few people who really understands what I mean, even though I’m sure I explained it horribly.
Picking up my bottle of wine, I take another drink and watch him stand. I expect him to say goodbye and disappear like he’s done all the other times, so I frown when he holds out his hand.
“What?”
“Come on. I need to walk.”
“You don’t need me to do that with you.”
“You’re right, but for some reason, I like your company.” He reaches down for me, and without thinking, I take his hand. I rarely drink, so even though the bottle I brought with me is still mostly full, I sway when he pulls me up to stand.
“You’re not drunk, huh?”
“It’s the sand.” I dust off my bottom while he laughs.
“I’ve got you.” He links his arm through mine and takes the bottle. Using him to stay steady, I let him lead me down to the shoreline, where the waves have flattened the sand so it’s firmer under my feet. Letting him go, I take off my sneakers and then walk toward the water. I look over at him when he comes to stand next to me, then laugh when a wave washes up higher than the last few and covers his shoe-clad feet. “Fucking hell.” He jumps back to get out of the cold water.
“It’s not that bad.” I laugh again, watching him back up three more steps to avoid another wave.
“Get out of there before you catch pneumonia.”
“I’m not going to catch pneumonia.” I roll my eyes and walk out until the waves brush my knees and thighs. The water is freezing, but mixed with the warmth of the alcohol flowing through my system, it feels bearable. When another wave rolls in, the sand beneath my feet gives way, making me laugh as I attempt to stay upright.
Just when I think I’m safe, another wave comes in, bigger than the last, making me stumble and tip to the side. Before it can take me under, arms wrap around me from behind, and I’m lifted off my feet.
“Do you have a death wish?” Roman bites out, rotating my body back toward the shore, causing my head to spin. My eyes open as my feet sink into sand that feels warm only because my skin is so cold. “What would you do if you went under and got pulled out to sea?” He lets me go, and I shiver at the loss of his body heat and the chill from the water soaking one sleeve of my sweater and the hem of my shorts.
“You’re very dramatic.” I wring out the sleeve of my sweater while he watches with his jaw clenched. When no more water comes out, I push the sleeve up my arm and walk toward my bottle of wine, still sitting upright in the sand. He gets to it before I do and picks it up. I hold my hand out to him in a silent request to pass it over, and his gaze locks on mine.
“You’ve had enough.”
I’ve had enough?
I stare at him in disbelief, then whisper-hiss so I don’t scream, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I don’t think I did.” I reach for the bottle, and he pulls it back. “Seriously?” He doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns the bottle upside down and dumps the liquid out, where it instantly disappears into the sand. “You did not just do that.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk, but even if I were, I’m an adult.”
“You’re acting like a child.”
“A child. Really?” I laugh.
“Yes, a child.”
“And you’re, what, the pillar of responsible and smart choices?” I scoff, grabbing my shoes. “Save the holier-than-thou BS for someone who hasn’t seen you so drunk you couldn’t even make it back to your room without help.”
I glare at him, and he glares back before turning his head to look out at the water.
Shaking my head, I drag in a breath, then start to walk off, saying over my shoulder, “You owe me nine dollars.”
