Someone Else's Ocean(34)

“How long has it been since you’ve been here?”

“A few years after I got married. The last time I saw you was the last time I was here.”

“You were leaving,” I said, recalling the day he walked out of the Kemp house, keys in hand. I remembered pausing to look at him before I stepped out of my parents’ SUV.

“You recognized me right away,” I said with a grin.

“You had on gold sandals,” he laughed as he studied my feet. “What is it with you and gold sandals?”

I shrugged and sipped my wine to hide my smile and pushed off my sandals to drag a lazy toe through the cooling sand. “Why didn’t you say hi? You just took off.”

“I was in a rush to get home,” he said, taking a sip of his wine.

“And you couldn’t say hello?”

He sank a little into his chair while an expression I couldn’t place flit over his features. “I was late for my flight.”

“Oh.”

“Feels amazing out here,” he said, his eyes flicking to the firelight.

“It does.”

“You’re really here for good?” he asked.

“Yep. No other place I want to be.” Ian picked up our bottle and refreshed our glasses.

“Right now, with this view, I have no argument.” I sank further into my seat as the sun set, a wine buzz, and the music drifted between us. I’d only ever shared my bubble with Jasmine. I felt strangely comfortable doing it with Ian. Because though the man in front of me was a far cry from the boy who chased me through the sand, he wasn’t a stranger.

With a bottle between us and the false courage that went with it, I studied him.

“So, tell me about the Marines. Is the training really as hard as it’s made out to be?”

“Worse,” he muttered. “It didn’t matter, I was up for it and I had already been training for months before I went in. But it wasn’t a breeze by any means. God, that seems like another lifetime ago,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

“So, you got out right away?”

“I served four years and I could have served more, but I had a baby coming, I wanted to be out.” He pulled at his lip and nodded. “I didn’t want to miss anything.”

“How old is she?”

“Just turned fifteen.”

“Wow.”

He stoked the fire as I swallowed a little intimidation.

Ian had been married, divorced, and was raising a daughter. The longest commitment I’d had was with my Mac, who I murdered on my way out of the city.

I chuckled.

“What?”

“I was just thinking of how much further evolved you are than I am. You’ve already had a marriage and are almost done raising a kid.”

He shrugged as he dug his feet into the sand. “What’s the rush?”

“No rush, well actually, at this point…”

Prodding eyes flicked my way.

“I have no plans past today, and those are my plans tomorrow.”

“I like your life. I wish I had it so easy.”

“Trust me, I pay for it. My mother is pissed and my dad is utterly confused with my choice to stay here. I tell them constantly they should have had another child, at least then they could do that fun comparison thing. It’s not my fault my mother was worried about her figure instead of procreating, and they were forced to place their hopes on one kid.”

“Some pressure, huh?” Ian grinned. “I guess since my parents adopted I lucked out.”

“Trust me, in regards to your mother, there is no disappointment in the slightest when it comes to you. Rowan is wonderful and thinks the world of you.” I said with a smile. “We caught up briefly last summer, but I don’t remember much of her when we were kids, but I do remember her banana pops. God, what was in those?”

Ian grinned. “I’ll teach you.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said as he filled our glasses again. “If you fancy them that much.”

“I definitely fancy them. I’ve been dreaming of those for years.” I twisted in my seat and tucked my legs underneath me. “She was always smiling, I do remember that.”

“She’s an amazing woman. Both my parents are great people,” he said fondly.

“Call her. She’s worried. Okay?”

“I did.”

“Oh? Good.”

Ian chuckled, and I looked to him in question.

“Are you feeling a little loose then, Koti?”

I realized then I was rocking back and forth to the beat of the music. And I don’t mean casually, I mean shoulders and head into it like the guys from Night at the Roxbury.

“Oh, crap.” I pressed an embarrassed hand to my forehead. “I do it at the store too. It’s in my genes.”

“Your father is a musician, right?”

“No, he was a sound engineer, mostly for reunion concerts. He was the guy with the big soundboard in the middle of the crowd. He did a lot of reunion tours for seventies and eighties rock bands.”

“Oh,” he said perking up a bit in his lazy seat. “Anyone I would know?”

“All of them,” I said without missing a beat. “I’m not kidding. All of them.”