Page 47

The World Is As It Should Be

Our gozzo drifts slowly out to the middle of the black sea; the fairy lights wrapped like it’s Christmas illuminate the surface of the water. The steady sloshing of waves and the rhythmic rocking lulls me in a state of bliss I haven’t felt in, well, ever.

Ricky and I are at the front of the boat, him lying back and me nestled safely in his arms beneath a blanket. His nose nuzzles my cheek. There’s nothing in front of us but a few boats anchored and endless galaxies peppered with bright white stars.

We kick off our shoes, and his feet lightly push against mine.

Like the water, my mind is calm.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, sounding suspiciously like me. I used to ask him all the time what was on his mind because I was uncomfortable not knowing.

“That I’m happy.” It’s the purest answer I have.

He hums. “Me too.” He pulls me closer, kisses my ear, then neck.

“I missed you every single day. I wanted to call you or text you. Fly home and apologize. Make sure you were okay.” His voice breaks.

“I texted you every single day those first few months.” He hands me his phone, and I read through every single bittersweet message.

We were both in so much pain. Knowing he was hurting doesn’t make mine heal faster or better, curiously. Hurt doesn’t absolve hurt. It only grows until it’s tended to, and even then, it takes time and forgiveness. Not of the other person, but of yourself.

That’s why I can look at Ricky and see a future rather than our past. Because I release myself from the grief, everything I did to avoid dealing with it by thinking I would “win” him back, as if he were a prize.

I forgive myself.

I also forgive Ricky. Some people might not agree with that, but it doesn’t matter. I know who he is, and I know who we are together.

I peer up at him, and he’s staring at me, a goofy smile on his scruffy face. “What?”

“I used to know what you were thinking. Mostly because you said your thoughts out loud.” He kisses my temple.

“Did not.” I harrumph and cross my arms dramatically. “You don’t know me.”

“I’m glad I get the chance to re-meet you,” he says.

The boat’s engine dulls to a stop. We drift forward, and the captain disappears toward the back to give us privacy.

“Me too.” I reposition myself so I can really see his face, study him like he’s Michelangelo’s David in the Galleria dell’Accademia, all chiseled chin and symmetrical face, save for one tiny freckle beneath his left eye like the North Star guiding me home.

The sky above reflects in his eyes, making them look like small galaxies.

I float toward them, get caught in his Milky Way.

We stay like this for a while, in each other’s comfortable silence, gazing into each other’s solar systems, orbiting the other like the sun and moon.

He plays with the wooden ring on my finger. “You kept it. All this time.”

“I never took it off.” My hand slips beneath his shirt, and he shudders.

His breath is shallow as he pulls a gold chain from around his neck. “Me neither.”

My lips hover over his. I breathe out slowly, making him lurch forward to reach me, but I pull back, teasing him. He growls, so I do it again, tease him by getting close and pulling away.

When I finally give him what he wants, he kisses me with a hunger and fervor I match.

It’s been so long since Ricky and I have been together where neither of us have anything holding us back from each other, not unsaid words or fear of the unknown or anxiety over where we go from here.

It’s like we’re shedding our skin, our former selves, the people we thought we were in favor of who we’re becoming.

Under the blanket, I unbuckle his jeans and reach inside the elastic of his briefs.

He shudders as I move up and down. “Fielder, no.”

I stop. Did I read him wrong?

“I want to,” he continues. “So bad. But not here.” He lowers his voice and speaks through clenched teeth. “We’re not exactly alone . . .”

Points are made.

I kiss the balls of each cheek because how could I not? He’s too adorably cute.

“Maybe it’s time to head back,” I shout, laughing.

Ricky pulls his phone from his pocket.

I kiss him again and he looks dazed. “That. I need more of that.”

I slip out from under the blanket and move to the side of the gozzo, adjusting myself quickly, and Ricky follows suit. Except he’s fumbling with his belt buckle and trying to hold his phone at once while the blanket snakes around his legs.

“Let me—” I reach for him.

“Va tutto bene?” the captain calls out.

Ricky jumps in fear, his legs tangled in the fabric, hand still on his junk.

He slams into the low railing behind him, causing him to flip over his head and flop backward into the black water.