30. Annie

ANNIE

"Ready to hit the pool?" I ask Sam as I leave his warm embrace and he watches me carefully. He's giving me the power and control in our relationship and honestly, I don't know what to do with it. I'm proud of myself for telling him about therapy and sharing that I'm not quite ready to share everything with him.

But I do want to move forward with him, even if it's slow. I'm glad he's letting me take it slow.

"I am if you are," he says.

I nod. "Let's do it. I could use a relaxing day." Understatement of the year, honestly, but when in Maui you should relax, right? Plus, I feel like a huge weight was lifted now that I know he's not going to pressure me into anything. Not that I ever thought he would, but it's nice to know we can move at my pace.

"Then a relaxing day is what you'll get." We make our way back to the hotel room, where he lets me get ready first. I pull on my two piece swimsuit, the first one I've felt comfortable in in years. That's another thing I'm learning, that it might take years for me to feel comfortable in my own body again. Mitch's words did so much harm that it's hard for me to be in my own skin. I generally like to hide under baggy clothes or my chef's uniform. Hiding under my clothes means that people don't look at me. Wearing a two piece swimsuit—even one that has pretty decent coverage—is still way out of my comfort zone. I want to take back my body and I know this is one way I can do that.

Hannah and Emily would be proud. Chiara would probably be proud too, but I don't talk to her as much right now. She told me she's building a case against Mitch, which I think is great, but I also can't handle it right now so she and I haven't talked much since I left New York beyond her telling me about what she's doing.

I pull on shorts and a T-shirt before heading out into the main room where Sam sits at the table, waiting. "It's all yours," I say.

I almost tell him that I'll head down by myself to find some lounge chairs for us, but in the end I sit on my bed and scroll through Instagram while I wait for him to be ready.

We end up a little ways away from the pool, but we can see the ocean from our chairs, so I'm happy. "I'm going to go walk by the beach for a minute."

He hesitates a moment. "Do you want me to come with you?"

I shake my head. "I'll be back in like ten minutes."

"If you aren't, I"ll send out a search party."

I bite back a smile. "You would do that."

"Gotta know where my wife is if she doesn"t come back when she says she will." His words hit me straight in my heart. I want to tell him I"m sorry for staying in Colorado, for not going back to New York like I said I would once I found myself more. But I can"t bring myself to say those words. Because I don't think I'll ever go back to New York and even though he gave me the reins, I'm not sure I can push past the guilt I feel about asking him to come back to Colorado with me. New York is his home now.

"I'll be back," I promise him, and this time I mean it.

Once I hit the sand, I slip off my sandals and hold them as I walk toward the water. There's a family playing frisbee and a couple of men throwing a football. But it's still pretty early, so there aren't many people out on the beach yet.

The water is cool as it rushes against my ankles, covering my feet. But it feels good. I close my eyes and relish the feeling. There's something about the ocean that makes me feel so incredibly alive. I open my eyes and watch the waves for a few minutes, letting my mind clear.

I wish I could do this every day. Visiting is nice, it's healing, but I probably couldn't live by the ocean all the time. It's big and vast and while incredible, it also freaks me out if I think about it too much. I stand there for the rest of my ten minute walk, just relishing in the feel of the water against my ankles, the fastness of the ocean, and how calm it all makes me feel in this moment.

I'm still a little jittery from my weird panic moment I had earlier. I don't know if I'll ever get used to this—feeling anxiety—but maybe I'm not supposed to get used to it. Dawn told me that it was going to take time before seemingly random things didn't trigger me as often, if at all. But it's part of the healing process.

I take a deep breath. I'm okay. I'm more than okay. Sam is here and I have a therapist and good friends and a new life. I'm okay.

I make my way back up to the resort, even though I want to stay by the water. I don't want Sam to worry about me.

"Ah, back with one minute to spare." Sam grins at me. He's got his shirt off now and I flush, remembering this morning. "How was the water?"

"It was perfect." I sit down in the chair and ask, "Promise me something?"

"Anything, sunshine," he says.

"That you'll bring me back here every year, even if things don't work out between us." I don't want to sound like a pessimist, I'm just trying to be realistic. Sam is going to wake up and realize one day that I can't give him the life he wants and he'll leave.

"Every year," he promises. "Even when we're old and gray."

I smile at him. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," Sam says.

"For what?"

"For everything."

Before I get a chance to ask what he means, a waiter comes by and gives us the poolside brunch menu. "I'll be back in a moment to see if you want anything."

"I'm not hungry yet," I tell Sam. "But you can get something if you want. I'm going to go jump in the pool for a second before I sit out here in the sun so I don't get too hot."

"Want me to help with your sunscreen?" he asks as I pull off my shirt. He doesn"t even try to hide the fact that he's checking me out, and for some reason, I don't mind. Lately, I've avoided any man looking in my direction, but I watch as he takes me in. When his eyes meet mine again, there's a reverent sort of look in them, like he can't believe that I let him look at me that way.

"Sure," I say, hoping my voice sounds normal. I slip off my shorts and turn around for him to get my shoulders and my back. His fingers are soft and his touch is gentle as he starts to rub on the sunscreen. I nearly lean into his touch, it feels so good. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to not do anything drastic—like turn around and kiss him like my life depended on it. Because that's really what I want to do with his hands all over my back.

Once he's done, I do my face and arms. When I drop the bottle on my seat, I can feel his eyes on me again.

"Can I help you?" I ask in a joking voice.

"Your tattoo." He points to my exposed hip bone. I didn't realize how low these bottoms sit on my body until now. But my tiny tattoo is peeking out over the waistband.

"What about it?" I ask. I know why he's asking, it's the sun. The same sun from the ring he gave me all those years ago. And he calls me sunshine, he's the only one that calls me sunshine.

He looks at me, his eyes wild. I've never seen him like this.

"It's just a tattoo," I say, trying to brush it off. Maybe I should tell him about it, but maybe I want him to wonder about it a little more.

"Right," he says, his voice gruff. "It's just a tattoo."

I nod, satisfied that I've got him so discombobulated. Join the club my friend. "I'll be back in a few," I say and then I head toward the pool. After I jump in and look over to our spot, I can tell that he is still in the same position that I left him in.

This makes me smile.

When I get back to our chairs, his eyes are closed. He still has his shirt off and I allow myself ten seconds to look at him. He's as beautiful as he's always been.

By the time he opens his eyes again, I'm back in my shirt and shorts. How could I have forgotten that he didn't know about the tattoo? I'm still not ready to talk about it. Not with Sam.

Not yet.

"You hungry?" Sam sits up and stretches and I have to avert my gaze as I feel myself grow warm remembering this morning. I want to close my eyes and forget those gorgeous abs. And my silly Greek god comment.

"I could eat," I say.

"A lady was just talking about some good pancakes at a place across the street from the food trucks. We could go if you're up for a walk."

"Sure."

Really though, I just keep waiting for the urge to run to hit me. I know it's going to come because that's what always happens to me. When things get too real or too deep, I run. I did it with Sam when we were younger. I did it when I ran away from my life in Colorado to start culinary school, even though Mom didn't want me to. I tried when I was with Mitch, but he didn't let me. And then I let him control so many parts of me for so long, that I'm only now starting to find myself again. I kept telling myself, when I got back to Colorado six months ago, that I was going to be different, that it was the last time I ran. That I could finally face my feelings and the harder things in life.

The real things.

But now that Sam is sitting beside, real as ever in that Greek god body of his and saying all sorts of things that confuse my brain and staring at my tattoo like he remembers that cheap ring he got me years ago...I feel like I should want to run.

And I do, but straight into his arms. I want this to be real between us. A real relationship for the first time ever, and a real marriage instead of one of convenience. And I don't have any idea what that means.

The pancake place is to die for. Sam orders a pineapple pancake ensemble and I order their original pancakes with hashbrowns and eggs on the side. "We'll have to bring Noah and Tally here tomorrow morning," I say after I take my first bite.

"It is really good," he says. "Can I try yours? Mine are way too sweet."

We end up trading pancakes, because I love his and he prefers the normal ones.

"So, more pool time after this?"

"For sure." He grins and it's a glorious sight, I ignore the voice in my head that tells me I shouldn't get attached, that I shouldn"t let his smile affect me so much. But part of me—the part that is so tired from running—wants to do more to stay close to him, to see what could happen between us if I let my real feelings show, for the first time ever, between us.