Page 5 of Husband of the Year
“Excuse? For what?”
“For being…” Elise motions around us. “In paradise. Alone.”
“Oh, I’m not alone. My fiancé is taking a call.”
“Of course. You’re engaged. And what’s the lucky lady’s name?”
“Well, his name is Olan.” I smile. My stomach stills waiting for her reaction.
“His. Of course. My apologies for assuming.”
“No worries. And speak of the angel.”
Olan returns, his white linen shirt billowing as he walks and stands near us. Attempting to understand the purpose of his mother’s call, I study his expression, only to be met with his expertly maintained poker face. My eyes find his, searching for a clue, but there’s nothing. When he sees Elise perched on his stool, he quickly snatches a free one from the end of the bar. He positions it between us, distancing himselffurther from the counter, forming a triangular arrangement perfect for conversation.
“And you must be Olan,” Elise says, extending her hand.
“Ma’am.” Olan shakes it and does a small bow. I’m not sure if he thinks she’s royalty, or he’s just showing extra respect, but it’s possibly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Elise, please. And thank you for letting me steal your lovely fiancé for a few minutes.”
“No, thank you for keeping him company while I was occupied.”
Olan and I exchange a glance, my eyes filled with unspoken encouragement.
“It’s my pleasure. I hear you’re engaged. Regale me with the details of your impending wedding.” The bartender delivers our drinks, and Elise takes a sip of her wine. “No, wait. Start at the beginning. How did you meet?”
I clear my throat. “I was his daughter’s kindergarten teacher.”
Elise’s eyes bulge and a mischievous grin appears on her lips. “Scandalous.” She takes another drink, this time a large gulp. “I love it.”
“It wasn’t egregious.” Olan lifts his mocktail, and my eyes hone in on his lips. A flash of that first kiss in my tiny apartment. My surprise at his interest and overall enthusiasm for kissing floods back. Being pushed against the wall, as he tasted, nibbled, and devoured my mouth. Our midsections rutted against each other near my old apartment’s front door while Gonzo looked on in horror. A quick shiver scurries up my spine. “It’s not like I gave her any special treatment because her dad was…”
“In your pants?” Elise laughs, and again, nearby patrons glance to see what the commotion is all about.
“I was going to say ‘interested in me,’ but you’re not wrong.” I sip my seltzer quickly, attempting to moisten my parched mouth.
Olan pats my knee. As his fingers linger, squeezing and rubbing, my chest releases a tiny bit of the building tension.
“A gorgeous father of a student,” Elise says with a wink. “A secret affair. I’m impressed.”
“It was only a secret for a few months,” I say.
“I couldn’t keep things hidden for long.” Olan’s fingers wrap around my chin, his thumb coming close to my bottom lip. “Look at this adorable face.”
My shoulders lift in amusement, and a soft laugh bubbles up. I meet Olan’s gaze, and I find myself captivated by his mesmerizing brown eyes—my future stares back at me and I’m still amazed at how my love for him continues to flourish.
“We’ve been together for almost two years now,” Olan says. “Living together, planning a wedding. This one…” Olan’s hand migrates to my shoulder. “Needed an island getaway.”
“Well, you couldn’t have picked a better one,” Elise says. “The food, the people, the drinks.” She lifts her glass. “My Richard loved the quiet beach on the west side of the island. The tourists don’t venture that far, and it’s usually quite empty. He’d pack us a picnic, and we’d spend the day reading, swimming, and grazing on his makeshift spread from the bodega. On our honeymoon, he convinced me to go skinny dipping, and we continued the tradition every year after.”
“He sounds like a special man,” Olan says.
“He was.” A nostalgic smile takes over her face. “He was my blue rose.”
Olan’s eyebrows scurry together. “Your what?”
“My blue rose. Rare. Special. Unattainable. There’s a poem I read once by…” Elise’s eyes scan the sky, searching. “Someone thoughtful. People search their whole lives for that special person—a soulmate. Their blue rose.” A contented smile blossoms on her face. “Richard was mine.”
