Chapter 8

Culver

That unsteady feeling inside me has now blown into full-on post-rollercoaster-ride dizziness…with some exhilaration thrown in for good measure.

Adding daily slash nightly kisses to Hannah's hot girl summer list after our wedding last weekend was bound to do that.

Emotionally, I've taken so many twists and turns I don't know up from down anymore.

Hannah and I are fake married.

We're real kissing—daily in the morning before she heads off to work, and nightly as many times as we like because we can and because hot girl summer rules are in play.

If it feels good, do it.

And believe me, kissing Hannah feels good to the power of infinity.

I can't believe this is really happening. It feels better than any of the short relationships I've been in because…because it's her.

I've loved Hannah for a long time, but that love has always been neatly contained within the boundaries of friendship.

What I'm starting to realize is that it isn't nausea I'm experiencing. It's something else.

Something else that is such a scary thought, it's enough to make me nauseous.

So I'm doing the right thing.

The thing that sees me using my head and not my heart so I don't make a terrible mistake the way I did when I lent money to two former friends and ended up losing both the money and those friendships.

I have to be smart about this and that means burying whatever inkling of a possibility I sense forming between Hannah and me deep, deep, deep down.

Hannah is the most special woman in the world. I cannot mess things up with her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did anything to ruin our friendship.

But for now, I'm not going to worry about that. Instead, I'm focusing on the incredible thing right in front of me.

"I can't believe we're here, Culver. This is amazing."

I take in the stunning, vibrant blanket of purple that stretches along the expansive rocky coastline.

Pacific Grove isn't that far from Comfort Bay, so I came here a few times with my family when I was a kid to take in this amazing sight.

"I can't believe you've never been here before," I say. "I would have thought someone who loves flowers as much as you do would've made this an annual pilgrimage."

"From now on I will. This place is so beautiful. It feels…surreal."

"Yeah. It really does."

The vivid purple hue of the fields contrasts dramatically with the deep blue of the ocean and the bright green of the surrounding foliage. The carpet of wildflowers looks soft and velvety, stretching out as far as the eye can see over the gently undulating contours of the land.

I think about Hannah telling me she wants to see the Northern Lights. A sight that, much like what we're currently experiencing, would probably seem otherworldly, too. I wonder if that's part of the appeal for her—seeking out experiences that take her out of the real world and let her escape into something different and unique and unexpected.

She looks around excitedly, and I love seeing her so happy.

There's a designated track for visitors to follow in front of us. I stretch out my arm. "Shall we?"

She slides her hand into mine. "Let's," she says, her face beaming.

It's a perfect summer day, and she's wearing a perfect summer sundress with a soft pastel floral print against a white background, with a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses.

We set off, and I inhale deeply, her coconut scent mingling with the subtly sweet aroma of the blooms and the salty spritz of the ocean.

We're finally focusing on her hot girl summer list, and I can tell it's going to be a really good day.

They've all been really good days since last weekend.

Yes, I know, we've only been married for a week, so we're still technically in our honeymoon phase. But I had no idea the honeymoon phase would be so much fun.

But I guess that's what happens when you add daily kisses into the hot girl summer mix.

No complaints here at all. I take my responsibility as her accountability partner very seriously.

Hannah tugs on my arm. "Ooh! Look at that."

I see a flock of bright yellowbellied meadowlarks take flight into the sky. "That's so cool."

We keep walking along the path through the flowers, hands locked.

This past week was a lot like the week before it.

Hannah went off to work at her flower shop. I chilled out around the house and cooked dinner for us every night. I made proper Italian pizza from scratch to show Hannah that the pie we had in Fresno was the worst.

I had lunch with Ma and Pa.

Visited Nonna a couple of times and fixed a few things at her cottage.

Stopped by Malik's construction site, where he gave me some good brotherly advice about the inheritance. He assured me I was doing the right thing and that he'd do the same thing if he were in my shoes. I avoided any mention of Bianca since I picked up on some tense vibes between them at the will reading.

I had two physical therapy sessions with a real doctor who wouldn't prescribe kisses as a remedy. That was the most sobering part of the week.

My injury is at a precarious and, thankfully, relatively early stage.

After years and years of bruising falls and high-impact contact, it could be a lot worse than it is. But it is deteriorating, and the worse it gets, the more pain I'm in, and the more pain I'm in, the more likely it is to become more serious. It could lead to chronic pain, permanent decreased mobility, even osteoarthritis

Surgery is a last resort before it gets to that stage, and it comes with its own risks and complications. The biggest issue is that a full recovery isn't guaranteed. Yes, it'll likely alleviate my pain, but will it also kill my career?

For now, at least, I've been cleared to attend the upcoming training session in LA in a few days, even if I am limited to light participation only. I'm trying to focus on getting to see the guys again and not on the activity restrictions.

So all in all, it was a pretty normal ordinary week—with the notable exception of adding daily and nightly kisses into the mix. Have I mentioned that already?

All this thinking about kissing gives me an idea. "Hey."

Hannah stops walking and fixes her eyes on me. "Hey." She studies me for a moment. "What is it?"

"I'd like to kiss you."

"Really? Here?"

So far, we've only ever kissed in the privacy of Hannah's living room.

And kitchen.

And hallway.

Oh, and a few times in the backyard when we sat out there for dinner.

"Unless you're ashamed of me and want to keep me as your dirty secret?"

"You are kind of an ogre."

"I'm the worst," I agree earnestly.

She giggles and lifts on her toes, her hands smoothing over the top of my chest and landing on my shoulders.

Her light-blue eyes swing to mine. "I'd like that."

I secure my hands around her waist and lower my head, bringing my lips to hers. And man, the second I do, it's like a volcano erupts inside of me.

Heat surges through my body, and I do everything I can to contain the simmering heat. I had no idea I had a primal caveman lurking inside me, but something about kissing Hannah unleashes a new side of me.

But I never let the caveman win. I make sure Gentleman Culver does, and I kiss Hannah the way every woman deserves to be kissed—with what I'm hoping is the right mix of tenderness and strength.

And just the right amount of tongue.

I think she likes it, judging by the sweet moans escaping out the side of her mouth.

Since we are in public, I keep things PG and end the kiss way sooner than I'd like to.

"Was that okay?" I check.

She smiles up at me. "Very okay."

We walk the entire path hand in hand, and when we get back to the start, I ask, "Feel like grabbing some lunch?"

"Sure." She smiles. "That sounds great."

Half an hour later, we're sitting by a massive window overlooking the ocean at a nearby restaurant.

"Oh, I forgot to show you." Hannah rests her knife and fork on her plate and pulls out her phone. "Here. Look at this."

I take the phone from her and smile at the image of Chester and his friends striking poses and making goofy faces in front of the Acropolis in Athens. "He looks like he's having a great time."

"He is. And Katie texted last night saying they saw a herd of bison."

"That's amazing." I look across the table and take in the incredible woman I'm blessed to call my bestie. "They're so great. You've done a terrific job with them." I lift my fork in the air. "And before you say it was a team effort, for the past seven years, it hasn't been. It's been you. All you. Take the compliment. Please."

She dips her head and smiles. "Okay. I'll take the compliment. Thank you. Actually…" She looks back up. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Yeah?"

"What did you and Chester talk about the night before they left?"

"I told you. He's been wanting to take up playing the sax."

She rolls her eyes. "I mean, specifically. I don't know where he's at with that. Oh. Unless he asked you not to tell me. I don't want you breaking bro code or anything."

"No bro code in play. He didn't say anything about not telling you, and I don't think he'd mind me speaking to you about it. He just needed a man's input into his, er, strategy."

"His…sex strategy?"

"Correct."

"Okay. Now you have to tell me."

I set aside my cutlery and say, "Well, he started by telling me he wanted to have sex while in Europe. I asked him if he'd had any experience in that area."

"What did he say?"

"He said no. That he'd basically been friend-zoned by any girl he was interested in at school."

Hannah nods as if she knows where this is going. "I think I know where this is going."

I say it anyway. "He said that while the majority of people are okay with his stutter, no girl wanted to date a 'dude who can't speak properly'—his words, not mine."

Hannah blows out a heavy breath. "I hate that so much."

"I hate that, too." I reach across the table and slide my palm over her hand. "But the thing about Chester is that no matter what challenge life throws at him, he finds a way to get through it."

"He does." That brightens her up a bit. "Okay. So back to this strategy."

"In a nutshell, he figures that since he'll be traveling through several non-English speaking countries, he can avoid talking, bypassing what he sees as a major barrier, thereby having a better chance at…you know, scoring."

"That's a little sad."

"I thought so, too. So I told him that his stutter shouldn't matter and that if a girl really liked him, she'd think so, too. But then I stopped myself."

"Why?"

"Because I thought about how it was coming across. Here I am, a dude without a stutter, telling a dude with a stutter how his life is. That's not cool. So, I put aside my own feelings—that he should be with a girl who wants to be with him for who he is—and imparted three pieces of advice to help him achieve his strategy."

"What were they?"

"Number one. Use Google Translate to understand three key phrases—is this okay, yes, and no in the language of whatever country he's in."

"That's good. Consent is vital."

"Absolutely. Number two. Always use protection."

"What did he say to that?"

"He already had it covered."

"Wait. He bought condoms from Doyle?"

I shake my head. "No. Doyle was his boss, so he was too embarrassed to buy them at the store. Besides, he didn't want half of Comfort Bay knowing."

"Half?"

"Okay, all of Comfort Bay. He went to see Doctor Kim at the pharmacy."

"Much better choice."

"Agreed."

"And number three?"

"And number three…I told him about the Palladino Edge."

"The Palladino Edge," Hannah repeats, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "This should be good."

"Are you sure you want to know?"

She nods.

"It's a little…intimate."

She nods even harder.

I lean forward.

She does the same.

The tables at the restaurant are spaced pretty far apart from one another, but I don't want to risk anyone overhearing what I'm about to say.

Because it's not just a little intimate. It's a lot intimate.

"Okay, so." I double check to make sure no one is approaching our table. "You know the expression, ladies first?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, that's basically it. The Palladino Edge is all about making sure the lady finishes first. Wait. Correction. Makes sure the lady finishes first and several times before you do."

"Finish first?" Hannah whispers. "What do you mean—ohhhhh." She blinks rapidly when she gets what I mean. She gulps. "Several times?"

"It's the gentlemanly thing to do." I lean back in my chair, grinning. "Don't you agree?"

The expression on her face is priceless. It takes a lot to throw Hannah off, but I think this may have done it.

It's not that I think Hannah is a prude, because she isn't. We've talked about our romantic lives. She knows I've dated casually, and I know she hasn't. But even though we tell each other everything, we've never gone into intimate details before.

"Yeah," she finally replies, her cheeks flush with color. "It is gentlemanly." Our eyes meet again. "The Palladino Edge, huh?"

I grin. "The Palladino Edge."