Page 16 of Rowan’s Renewal (DKAG Summer Shorts #6)
O ur final night feels heavier than I thought it would. After our unexpected conversation in the morning, we came back to the resort and spent the afternoon cuddling and languorously making out, holding on tightly to each other.
Rowan’s insecurities will take a lot longer than a week to work through, but it still hurts my heart to know that he’s so worried things will fall apart once we get back home.
But those concerns are pushed aside when it is time to leave for our sunset cruise up the river.
I worried yesterday when I booked our spots, because the weather had turned and we experienced one of Queensland’s famed summer thunderstorms from our hotel room, but today the weather has been picture perfect and the sky has been clear.
The boat we board is gleaming white and modern, with an open deck and a small cash bar. Five other couples join us, and we all mingle and make small-talk before the captain gives us a mandatory safety talk and then departs from the dock.
It’s almost a lazy meander down the river, and we all peel off into our private bubbles, scattered around the deck.
An elderly couple takes two of the seats facing the helm, content to drink in the sights more comfortably than standing.
Rowan walks to the handrail, just off-center from the bow, and leans against the railing, and I bracket him in from behind, resting my chin on his upper back.
It might look silly, the shorter of us being the big spoon, but the way he melts every time I take up this position makes it perfect.
In front of us, the sky is turning orange and pink, with a few scattered, fluffy clouds almost appearing purple from the backlighting.
The dark, still water of the river glints with the light show above us, reflecting back the golds and purples and pinks from the sky.
It’s beautiful, and the murmur of low voices fades away while everyone on board just absorbs the moment.
“Want to take a selfie?” I ask Rowan, barely speaking above a whisper.
He nods, his hair ruffled from the slight breeze, enhanced as it is by the slow push of the boat through the water.
I step back and he turns to face me, then I turn my back and press into him, holding up my phone with the front-facing camera enabled.
I angle it and we smile, trying to capture the splendor of the backdrop behind us in all its glory.
But when I look at the final shots, it’s not the rainbow of color at our backs which catches my breath. It's the adoration on Rowan’s face.
***
“I can’t believe you upgraded me to Business Class,” Rowan mutters as we settle ourselves into the plush plane seats. “I’ve never flown Business in my life.”
“I wanted my Boy to sit with me,” I shrug. “And I very rarely travel, so why not do it in comfort if I can afford it?”
We’ve not really spoken about our financial situations, but I grew up privileged.
Both of my parents were extremely successful doctors before their retirement —my father, Kim Park, a cardiologist, and my mother, Elizabeth Whitman-Park, a neurosurgeon— and I grew up with all the perks you might imagine that entails.
Private schools, extracurriculars, somewhat extravagant summer childhood vacations: the works.
I’m a trust fund baby, and I am aware that I am extremely lucky for my lot in life.
My father instilled that in me from a young age, having come to the United States from Korea with nothing but a medical degree under his belt.
He worked hard to attain the ability to practice in the USA, then built his entire career from the ground up.
He met my mother early in his career, at the first hospital where he worked, and he promised her that he would work hard to give her the life he believed she deserved.
Being the feminist that she is, Mom told him they’d do it together.
Forty-five years, four children, and a lot of successful investments later, and they are the kind of couple I want to emulate.
Happy, in love, and not afraid to work hard to achieve their goals together.
But their story also reminds me not to take my position in life for granted.
If they hadn’t worked as hard as they did, my life could have looked very different.
So I don’t splash my cash often —I don’t drive an insanely expensive car or live in a lavish penthouse, not that there’s anything wrong for those that can afford to and who find joy in it— but when I do splurge, it’s on experiences that make me and the people I love happy.
And, while I know that Rowan isn’t struggling financially, I know that he’s not the kind of man to spend money on Business Class tickets, even if they are far more comfortable for a flight duration of over thirteen hours.
He shakes his head, his cheeks going pink. “How do I pay you back for this?”
“You sit back and relax, sweetheart. Your happiness is all I want.”
“You’re so sappy.”
“I never said I wasn’t.”
He chuckles, then leans back into the padded seat with a sigh, stretching out his long legs. “This is so much better than Economy.”
I lean around the edge of my own seat —I’ve chosen the aisle so Ro can feel more privacy between me and the window— and peer down the aisle, watching as people grumble and grizzle their way into the tighter quarters in Economy behind us.
There, they are sitting three abreast against the windows and in rows of four down the center of the plane.
They look squished together. I cringe and turn back to look at Rowan, imagining how he must have felt, stressing about his condition in such cramped conditions.
I don’t say anything about that, though. I just grab for his hand, then bring it to my lips, grazing his knuckles with a kiss as light as air. “I’m happy to give this to you, baby.”
Before we boarded, we visited the bathrooms, and when I changed our seats with the airline, I requested a row closer to the onboard Business Class toilets, too.
We’re only two rows away from the currently green-lit door, and I hope that also gives Rowan some additional comfort.
There are fewer people to fend off in our section of the plane, and I have spare pullups for him in case he still can’t make it in time.
They’ll be easy enough to stash discretely into the inside pocket of his jacket if he needs them.
And, if I get my way and he sleeps through some of the flight, he will need them.
After takeoff, we spend a little time ignoring our in-flight entertainment screens in favor of looking through some of our photos and talking about our favorite parts of the past week. I also show him some of the sights I saw before I got to the Sunshine Coast, watching his smile turn wistful.
“We should consider coming back in a year or two,” I say as his eyes take in the selfie I took outside of the Sydney Opera House. “I could show you some of the places I went, and maybe we could go to some places that are new to both of us.”
His eyes are wide as he looks up from his phone screen and at my face. “That’s…some serious future planning.”
My heart squeezes but I smile reassuringly. “I’m a planner, sweetheart. It’s part of my job as Daddy.”
I half expect him to argue or brush me off, but his smile turns bashful and he nods. “You’re good at that,” he murmurs, leaning in. “At being Daddy. If…if I haven’t made it clear…I love it.” He clears his throat and nibbles his lip, then murmurs, “I…I love you, actually.”
We would so get caught if I dragged him into the bathroom to join the Mile High Club.
Unable to do that, because being arrested for public indecency or whatever consequence being caught fucking in an airplane bathroom gets you isn’t on my To Do list, I groan and wrap my hand around the back of his head, pulling him in for a searing kiss.
I get hard, from the echoing words in my head and the delicious sensation of our tongues entwining, and I don’t stop. Not until I need to breathe.
Then I pull back and rest my forehead against his, replying, “I love you, too, Ro.”
Yes, it has only been a week, but how could I not fall head-over-heels in love with this man?
He’s so sweet, and kind, and we’re so compatible.
This week together has opened up a world of opportunity, and opened my eyes to just how very incompatible Jerry and I were.
He was right to end things, and I have never been more grateful that he did.