My eyes don't leave his. Tears well up and one runs down my cheek. When I want my mouth to say yes, nothing comes out.
I nod my head vigorously and finally manage to whisper, “Yes. A million times yes!”
The rain picks up and every part of me gets wet. I can even feel it in the soles of my feet and the back of my bra. My jacket isn't exactly waterproof and the rain beats at us all the way back to the dock.
Tyler encourages me to go down to the cabin, but I can't leave my new fiancé so soon. Instead, I stand by him near the wheel and hold him tightly.
“Why did you ask me like that?” I ask when we finally talk and head downstairs to change.
“What do you mean? Wasn't it romantic?”
“Yes, of course it was. On the sailboat in the middle of a rainstorm. I'm definitely never going to forget it.”
“Well, good. That was the point.”
“What exactly?”
“I wanted to give you something positive to associate with the rain. I know that you’re not the biggest fan and now you’ll have something wonderful to think about every time you see some clouds on the horizon. Think about me and know that I love you more than anything in the world. It’s never going to change.”
Drenched from head to toe, he rubs his face with a towel and then smiles at me that sexy way that I can't resist.
Before I know what I'm doing, I wrap my arms around him and kiss him. It takes him a moment to realize what is happening, but then he quickly reciprocates.
This time, we don't hesitate. We don't take our time.
Our bodies are fervent and out-of-control. We are rushing, but we are not rushed. There is no savoring the moment.
Our bodies have to be right next to each other or… I'm not sure what's going to happen.
We peel off our clothes and drop them to the floor. I touch his skin. It's slick and soft. I kiss him lightly, but then harder.
Our mouths bind to each other's and we don't let go. He pushes me against the wall and I push against him. He lifts me up and opens my legs. Slowly, he lowers me over him and then starts to slide me up and down.
I have never been held like this before. I have never been so manhandled and played with, but in that way that you really want. He kisses my mouth, my cheeks, my neck.
He drops one of my legs to the ground and kisses my breasts. He puts one in his mouth while caressing the other. He wanders his fingers down my stomach and towards my clit.
He presses it, he plays with it, and I tilt my head back with pleasure. He pulls out and then gets down on his knees, opening my legs wide.
His mouth and tongue find their way inside and I press myself harder against the wall, trying not to scream.
When I feel like I'm getting close, I start to moan, and he pulls his fingers out of me.
He throws me over the counter. I grab onto it with both hands and part my legs further apart. He slides right in, holding on to my hips.
We move together as one. All movements become like a dance, as if we're listening to the same music. Whenever I start to feel close, he speeds up to match my movements.
When I try to make it last a little longer, he slows down to accommodate. It's almost as if he knows exactly what I need and what I want.
Finally, I can't hold on anymore. The orgasm washes over me like a wave, only one that emanates from deep inside of me.
He consumes me. It throws me off balance. I moan and collapse onto the counter and then, somewhere in the distance, I hear him moan as well.
“I love you,” he whispers into my ear a little too loudly as his breathing slows down.
8
Tyler
It's hard to say goodbye and we tried to prolong it as much as possible. She packed her bags and looked around the boat one last time as I busied myself with something up on the deck to stop myself from feeling the pain of seeing her off.
This weekend was magnificent. It was everything that I never knew I could have again.
That's why I asked her to marry me.
I want to tell her how I feel and I wanted it to mean something.
I wasn't sure if she was going to say yes even though she had said that she would earlier. There was still hesitation and uncertainty that made my stomach twist. I couldn’t let her leave without telling her how I felt. The truth is that I want her to be my wife.
We spoke briefly about the future and I know that she's willing to move here. Perhaps it's the best decision. I do have this big marina complex to take care of and she could start her business here. She would have to sell her house, but it's not like she loves living in Pittsburgh.
The one thing that we have not talked about much is her mother. I know that her addiction gnaws at her. I know that she can't forget the love that she feels for her mom, particularly when she is sober.
I know what it's like to have people like that in your life. My father was an addict also. It wasn't really alcohol or drugs, but anger. For a while, things would be great, but then something would set him off and he would become the tyrant. The problem was that you never knew what the thing would be that set him off.
Maybe that's not the best comparison. Isabelle's mom is struggling with a disease that makes her a completely different person when she is drunk or high. I know that if she were to get sober again, Isabelle would have a hard time pushing her away.
That's the whole point of rejecting her now; the hope that they will reconcile sometime in the future when she gets back on the right path.
What's going to happen when her mom gets sober?
Will she regret moving to Seattle?
Will she invite her to visit?
Perhaps. Perhaps not. There is no telling how long the sobriety will last. Maybe a month, six months, a year. Maybe forever.
This might be the one that sticks. There's no way to know for sure. The one thing that I do know is that despite how much I want to protect Isabelle and to tell her that she should just cut all ties with her mom forever, it's not my place.
She should cut all of her ties for now until things change. People do quit drinking. They do quit doing drugs and they do quit gambling.
Even the most unlikely people, the most far gone addicts, are capable of change and it’s not my right to discourage her from having a relationship with her mom if she does change.
We haven't talked about any of this. This is just what I think about as I drive her to the airport. I should think about all the nice times we’ve had together and how lucky we are to be together again, but my thoughts are gloomy and dark. The few times that the sun peeks out, don’t make them any better.
The goodbye is tearful and painful. I walk over to get her ticket and then over to the security check line.
I can't go any further and partly I'm glad that I don't have to sit with her by the gate and watch her get on that plane.
I'd rather not be here at all. I would rather just drop her off at the curb because the longer that this process is, the harder it becomes.
Of course, we promise to call, text, and video chat as much as we can. This isn't how it used to be before when all you could do is talk on the phone and even that, do so only occasionally, but I can't take myself back all of those years.
I'm here now and all I feel is pain. Video chat is great, I'm glad that I'll be able to see her and to talk to her in real time, but it’s not enough.