Page 6 of Husband of the Year
The love radiating from Elise’s face catches me off guard, and my heart aches for her loss. But I’m also grateful for the joy they shared. “And you were his.”
Elise nods, pulling her lips in, her eyes exploring, perhaps for another cherished memory of her husband.
“And you two. You’ve found your blue rose.”
“Absolutely,” Olan says, taking my hand in his. “He’s never getting rid of me.” Olan kisses my cheek softly, the smell of linen, coconut, and cherry swirls as he whispers into my ear, “You’re stuck with me.”
“Happy to be stuck,” I say and take a deep breath, attempting to capture as much of this feeling as possible and bottle it up. Since the moment his lips landed on mine two years ago, Olan has done something to my body’s chemistry. Sure, the erections are plentiful and often unyielding. But he’s somehow managed to both excavate and nurture my heart in a way I never knew possible. All my life, I’d heard the word bashert and wondered if it was a crock of shit, but nope, I just hadn’t met my… blue rose.
“Well, let me leave you two to your night,” Elise says, standing and setting her almost empty glass on the bar.
“Why don’t you join us for dinner?” I ask, knowing Olan would be more than happy to continue our conversation with Elise.
“No, no. I have… a late-night swim waiting.” She winks, grabs her purse, and stands. Olan and I promptly rise to our feet.
“Take care, boys. And maybe I’ll see you back on the island sometime.”
“Good night,” Olan says. We both wave, and Elise heads toward the exit, the fringe on her shawl shaking with each step as she departs.
“What a lovely lady,” Olan says, taking my hand and we sit.
“So sweet,” I say as I run my finger along his forearm.
“Just like these.” Olan’s lips land on mine, and his kiss, like everything about him, makes me feel like the most precious, cherished treasure—his blue rose.
After a long stroll along the water, we end up at the small beach on the west of the island. Elise was right; there’s nobody here except us and a few stray seagulls. The shoreline is a crescent of pristine, powdery sand, gently curving around water that sparkles like jewels under the moonlight. The beach is framed by lush, emerald-green foliage that provides natural privacy and a sense of seclusion.
With his convincing smile, Olan persuades me to take a quick dip in our underwear. The warm water and night sky dotted with stars provide a peaceful backdrop for our swim.
We’re able to stand, the ocean up to our chests, and Olan wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. Water beads on his skin and when he kisses me under the sparkling sky, it seems as if the entire universe has converged to create this perfect moment for us.
“Mmmmh. Tasty.” He takes a quick lick at my mouth.
“I love you,” I say. “Thank you, again. For bringing me here.”
“Anytime.”
Another kiss lingers on my lips as Olan intertwines his fingers with mine, his touch sending a gentle electric current through my body. With a tender tug, he pulls me toward the shore. The sand beneath our feet shifts and molds with each step.
We’re soon lying on the beach in our wet underwear, waiting to air dry enough to put the rest of our clothes on.
“What is it about the ocean?” I ask, taking in a deep breath.
“The fish? The salt?” Olan tilts his head in thought. “The gravitational pull of the moon creating lapping waves and the tidal current?”
I prop myself up on an elbow and lean over to kiss his chin. Lips. Nose. Forehead. Finally, skirting back to his mouth, and taking a small bite of his lower lip.
“You are such a nerd.” Another kiss. Longer. Deeper. My tongue skates over his mouth. “Fuck, I love it. You. Being nerdy. All of you.”
“Yeah.” Olan’s arms encircle my torso, pulling me on top of him, our damp skin clinging together like two magnets. “I kind of got that.”
“But the beach. The oceans. All of them. The Atlantic. Pacific. Indian. Even the Arctic. They’re all so magical.”
“Scientists have given names to the different oceanic regions, but technically, they’re all one body of water. The sand, too. Every grain is connected. The sand we’ll stand on in Maine to take our vows could’ve been here at some point.” He reaches down and picks up a handful, letting it cascade over his fingers and return to the beach. “And the stars.” He glances toward the heavens. “Same stars we’ll get married under thousands of miles away.”
My teeth land on Olan’s chin, and I bite down hard enough to elicit a small “ouch” from him.
“What was that for?” he asks.
