Page 56 of Rum Sips and Salty Lips

I’m back to reality much faster than I want. I wait as he pulls out and disposes of the condom. I wait for him to dismiss us. To claim this doesn’t mean anything.

He doesn’t.

I move to get up. He reaches for my hand. “Not yet.”

“What?”

“Don’t run away this time,” he pleads.

I want this to mean more than it does. “Let me clean up first.”

He nods.

When I return from the bathroom, he gestures for me to climb back into bed with him. I didn’t realize cuddling is an option. Still, I need a few minutes before my equilibrium resets.

I crawl under the covers and rest my head on his chest. I pay attention to his heartbeat. It starts fast. Over the next few moments, it slows until he is as relaxed as I am. His fingertips trace my side as I trace the anchor over his heart. It takes me a moment to realize he’s also lingering on my tattoo.

“Clever way to tattoo your name,” he comments.

I still my hand, surprised he recognized it. “Did you look it up?” I get asked about it a lot. Most assume it’s the Big or Little Dipper. One guy at a yoga retreat asked if it was Orion’s Belt. It was probably the only constellation he could name.

“I’m a sailor. I know the stars. And Carina is the keel of the Argo. You expect me to not know when you have a ship on you?” His voice is soft and reverent. Like my skin is a temple he is called to worship at.

My fingers slide to his waist and his compass tattoo. “Have you seen it?”

“I have.” He kisses my forehead. “I worked on charter yachts in Australia. You?”

“No.” The Carina constellation is only visible in the Southern Hemisphere.

“We could leave now. Sail south until we hit ice.”

It sounds sweet, like we have a future. We could do something fun and drastic together. But what I hear is:I’m only in Wendell Beach temporarily. I’m going to leave.

I tense. “We should head back.” I don’t need to drag this out.

He holds me tighter. “Let’s stay the night. It doesn’t count if we’re on the boat.”

It’s a tempting offer. We could hide here for a few more hours. I’m sure round two would be as good. He likely has a bottle of rum we could share. He could be my escape.

“I can’t,” I say. “I have an early morning yoga class.”

He examines my face for a moment and I hold his gaze.

He kisses my forehead. “I know when you’re not telling the truth.”

“It is the truth. Tomorrow is Wednesday,” I say. The one morning I teach.

“It’s not the reason you don’t want to stay.”

He has me there. Neither of us says what I’m thinking.

I slip out of his arms and find the clothes I discarded. He does the same. Once we’re back on the stern, I grab my bag as he steps onto the dock.

I freeze.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Will we start fighting as soon as we’re both off the boat?” I like the peace we’ve found, even if I believe it’s temporary.

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