I stare at him, doing my best impression of not looking surprised. Then I nod and try to change the subject as I walk over to the kitchen island.
“So, lobster rolls, yeah?”
“I went home with Jake one summer. He’s from Connecticut, and we used to eat at this place on Sea Bluff Beach that only had three things on the menu: lobster rolls, lobster chowder, and lobster salad. To this day, I dream about that lobster roll and have worked hard to recreate it,” He laughs as he tells the story.
The last two weeks have been almost too perfect. We’ve been spending more time together, and I’m finding it hard to remember why I should stay away from him. We slipped right back into the comfort and banter we had the first time we were together. It’s almost as if no time has passed, except now we talk about work and clients instead of school, parents, or friends. When I’m with him, I forget about heartache. I forget I could get hurt again and that I need to be careful.
“Want to eat outside?”
“It feels like the right thing to do,” I say.
He carries the food while I grab the glasses and a bottle of wine he’s set out for us, and we walk over to a table near the end of the patio, steps away from the sand. It’s a little windy out, but tonight is warmer than normal, the perfect temperature to dine outside.
When I sit down, I notice the balcony above, and Wyatt turns his head to see what I’m looking at.
“There’s a fire pit up there. We can check it out after dinner.”
He catches my eyes and holds them for a minute. I don’t say anything because I don’t want to ruin what could be a moment. I’d definitely like to go upstairs.
“Sounds nice.”
Dinner is messy but delicious. He tells me what it was like to go to UCLA, and I share my stories about grad school at Stanford and why I changed my mind about practicing law. It was just so boring. He laughs and agrees, but he’s good at what he does. As much as he was born to golf, he was meant to be a lawyer, too.
We talk about Hollywood and the crazy clients we’ve had and then compare notes on some of the popular actors we both know, agreeing on who is a class act and who is appalling. We also laugh at how delusional it can get sometimes when studios are trying to make deals and act as if life will cease to exist if they can’t agree with a director over how an explosion scene should play out.
We never seem to run out of things to talk about, and I imagine what it might be like if this were something more. We know we have chemistry. I just can’t tell if it’s excitement I feel, or terror. Maybe it’s both.
“So, I wanted to ask you something.” He reaches across the table and threads his fingers through mine. “I know this is new, I know we’re still figuring things out, but I guess I just wanted to know what you’re thinking?”
I’m not sure what he wants me to say. I’m thinking I want to be with him. I want to spend the night with him. And I’m for sure thinking I don’t ever want him to see that Bethany woman again. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I don’t want to be with anyone else. Do you?”
I rub my thumb inside the palm of his hand. “No, I don’t.” And that’s true, I don’t want to be with anyone else. But I’m still hanging on to a little fear. Wyatt must see that in my eyes.
“I’m not saying we have to declare our love for one another, but while we’re figuring out what we are, I’d like us to be exclusive. No other people. Just me and you.”
“No Bethany?”
“Definitely no Bethany. Only you.”
He brings my hand to his lips, dusting a light kiss over my knuckles. He pulls me up and over to sit on his lap. Our eyes connect, a million declarations left unsaid for now. I lean in for a taste of his lips and he tightens his arms around my waist as if confirming our pact. His teeth nip at my bottom lip as he pulls back, still holding me close.
“Let me put the dishes up, and then we can take our glasses upstairs and finish this bottle of wine by the fire,” he whispers.
I help him clear the table and watch as he pushes up his shirt sleeves so he can rinse the dishes off before putting them in the dishwasher. His forearms flex, showcasing their ropey veins and muscles and drawing my eyes down to his hands. They are strong, and his fingers are long, with perfectly manicured nails. I get distracted thinking about those hands on my body. They make me feel small and adored.
“You ok?”
I snap my eyes up to see that Wyatt has caught me staring at him, and I blush.
“Yes, just thinking about some calls I need to make tomorrow.”
He smiles at me like he knows I’m full of shit. “Come on. Let’s go up.”
Wyatt motions for me to lead the way. At the top of the stairs, I’m met with another wall of glass doors, leading out to a smaller patio with a round firepit and four Adirondack chairs. There’s also a row of chaise lounge chairs facing the unobstructed view of the ocean.
“This is so beautiful,” I say. “If I lived here, I don’t think I would ever come inside. I would sleep on those lounge chairs and work all day around the fire pit.”
