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“Have you ever wanted something so much, but knew it was impractical and irresponsible to even try because it would never work?”
“You’re confusing me, so you must be confused yourself.”
“I can’t explain it. You probably wouldn’t think twice—just like you jumped off the cliff.”
“Glided off,” he corrected me. “Jumping would be dangerous. There are rocks below.”
He was trying to lighten my mood, but I didn’t smile.
“Get it off your chest,” he said. “Maybe that will help you make peace with whatever is bothering you.”
“Being here has helped,” I said. I didn’t want to tell Jason or anyone. Except... Jason was the safest persontotell. After this week, I would never see him again. “This is a magical place.”
“Abracadabra.” He touched my lips with two fingers. “Tell me your dream. It’ll be our secret.”
I didn’t plan to say a word, but then lots of words came out, surprising me.
“I want to own a bookstore.” Now that the words were free, I couldn’t take them back. “I’ve loved books my entire life. My earliest memory is of my dad reading to me. I spent hours in the library, and I spent all my birthday money on books, at this little bookstore in Connecticut where I grew up. I love talking about books, sharing my favorite stories with anyone who will listen. I belong to two book clubs and record video book reviews, and when I’m not working, I’m reading.
“But small businesses fail at a very high rate,” I continued. “Bookstores are more difficult than most. Rent alone is prohibitive because the profit margin is low—or nonexistent. Most new businesses fail in three years. I would lose my savings, have debt, and everything would be gone. I’d never recover.” I shrugged. “So it’s just a dream.”
“Nothing isjusta dream,” Jason said. “Tell me what your store would look like. Where is it?”
“New York is too expensive, but that’s the ideal place,” I said. I hadn’t meant to elaborate, but Jason seemed so interested in what I was saying that I couldn’t help myself. “I’d want to own the building, maybe live upstairs. I want the feeling of Tribeca or Greenwich Village, the quaint buildings and storefronts, the neighborhood feel. But not such an expensive neighborhood. When you first walk in, you’d see books people want to read—nothing stuffy, no political books, no air of superiority. I want fun books, mysteries and romances and feel-good biographies. I want cookbooks and adventures and uplifting self-help books. And a huge children’s section with bean bag chairs for the kids, where parents would feel comfortable leaving their little ones so they can browse. A story hour once a week, maybe with a children’s author coming in to read her favorite book. A café where friends can chat over coffee, a private room that looks and feels like an in-home library where book clubs can meet, or a writers’ group. I want...” I stopped suddenly, just then realizing how long I’d been talking.
“Go on,” Jason urged.
I shook my head. “It can’t happen.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d have to get a loan and deplete my savings, and the business would go under in three years. Then who would take care of my grandmother? I’d have to start at the bottom, rebuild, and never come close to where I am now. I have a great offer that ensures financial stability for the rest of my life. It would be irresponsible and foolish to turn that down on a whim that is destined to fail.”
“Is it?”
Maybe not in Jason’s world of hang gliding and island living, but in the real world? “Of course,” I said.
“What if it’s a success?”
“It’s far more likely to fail than succeed. You don’t understand.”
He didn’t say anything at first, and I worried I’d hurt his feelings.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and meant it. “We’re people who see the world differently. You’re bold and brave and jump—glide—off mountains for the fun of it. You don’t have anyone you’re responsible for except you. I’m not brave. I’m—well, cautious. And that’s okay. If I did something rash, I would be constantly worried, probably get an ulcer and start biting my nails.” I tried to smile, but it felt lopsided.
Jason refilled our champagne flutes, then said, “I love that you’re responsible and you think about others, like your grandma. I love that you take care of her and make sure she’s happy in her golden years. Family... well, it’s important, whether it’s just one person or a huge extended family. But Mia, life is meant to be lived. There’s no one right way to do it. The world needs people like you to keep the ship steered straight. And the world needs people like me to show people like you the possibilities.”
He took my hand, kissed it. “What if you’re more like me than you realize, and that’s why your dream is so vivid? Maybe you have two angels on your shoulders. We won’t call them an angel and a devil, because they’re both good. One is telling you to stick with what you know, the tried and true, the security blanket. That you are damn good being the captain of your ship and keeping the boat on course, moving ahead, vigilantly navigating any obstacles in order to dock at the end and be satisfied with a life well lived. And the other is telling you to jump ship, take a sailboat through uncharted waters, the wind whipping you this way and that, because maybe it’s the journey itself that makes life worth living.”
He leaned over, hesitated, as his lips were only an inch from mine. I held my breath, mesmerized by his speech, the way he looked at me, his dark eyes on mine... then he kissed me, tasting faintly of chocolate and champagne. His lips warm and confident and oh so yummy.
“Maybe,” he whispered into my lips, “your path doesn’t allow you to take a risk with someone like me.” He kissed me again.
“Or maybe,” I said, my voice hoarse, my body leaning toward him, “you’re the risk I need.”
I put my glass down in the sand; it fell over, but I didn’t care. He put his down too. Slowly, he pushed me onto the blanket, his lips on mine, his hands skimming down the side of my sundress. He moved his hands lower, over my ass, making me moan in anticipation of what I knew would be the best sex I had ever had in my life.
“You’re not wearing anything under your dress,” he said, sounding mildly surprised.