21. Carina

CHAPTER 21

Carina

I wake up and look around, and for a moment, I forget where I'm at. I get up and slowly recognize the wood-paneled walls and the high A-frame ceilings. Ryan calls it a cabin, but this place is definitely more than that. It's like calling where Alex lives, just a house.

We arrived yesterday, and Ryan started the stone fireplace to cut the chill in the air. Being at a higher elevation, it was a cooler spring than I am used to, but the place is perfect.

The cabin is much bigger than I expected, with high peaks at the windows and a wrought iron chandelier hanging in the two-story living room. Even though Ryan says it belongs to a friend, I can't help but feel like that's not the truth. But then, who does the cabin belong to?

As usual, I'm deep in my thoughts.

Ryan suggested sleeping in separate bedrooms so that I would feel the most comfortable. I didn't argue with him about it, even though I was looking forward to sleeping in his arms. That would have to wait for another time.

I wish our relationship wasn't built on my pact with Alex. It would've been nice to just go with the flow and experience things with Ryan instead of always thinking about whether something made me an even worse person for making this deal. But that wasn't me. Sometimes, I felt if I wasn't overthinking, then I wasn't thinking at all.

I get out of bed and leave the bedroom to look for Ryan. I check the living room and then the kitchen, but no luck. This place is entirely too big to be called a cabin. As I turn around, I notice a note stuck on the refrigerator door.

Carina,

I'll be back soon. I went out to get some bagels.

Love,

Ryan

The word love fills me with guilt. I've spent the past few months with him, trying not to fall in love, trying not to care too much. It was all a waste of my time. Maybe someone else would be able to do this for Alex and not fall themselves, but that wasn't me. I care too much.

The only thing I have left is sex. In my mind, that's keeping me from completely falling in love. Well, that and knowing how he really feels about me.

I'm doomed already. I already care too deeply, but if I have some sign from him that he feels the same way, then I know I won't be able to stall things anymore. And once the time comes that that happens, it won't just be sex, not for me, at least.

And I know how ridiculous that sounds. I know it's just words. It's just semantics. But that's how I feel.

Ryan enters the cabin wearing jeans and a red and black plaid flannel shirt, looking every bit like a lumberjack.

After breakfast, I get ready for us to explore the little town we drove through on our way here. There was a small Main Street area that looked as if it were stuck back in time, and we were both excited about looking at the shops there. One in particular caught my eye--an antique shop.

We climb into Ryan's Maserati, which he steers down the winding mountain roads to the town. He parks on the street right in front of the antique store.

The thing that strikes me the most is how friendly everyone is. It's nothing like being in the city.

As we walk along Main Street, Ryan slips his hand against mine and holds it. I look up at him, and he leans down to kiss me.

Ryan pushes the door to the antique shop open, and a bell hits the top of the door, making it ring and reminding me of our first date at the diner.

A woman behind the counter removes her reading glasses as she peers over at us. She smiles as she slowly comes around the counter to greet us.

"Well, you two are just the cutest couple," she says. "Is there anything in particular that you're looking for?"

"No," I say. "We drove by yesterday on our way in, and I wanted to take a look around."

"Oh well, we have a lot of different items. So feel free to take a look. And if you have any questions, my name is Marianne."

Ryan and I wander the store, hand in hand until we eventually go our own ways. There are so many things to look at. I was hoping I could find something for my grandmother, so I keep that in mind as I roam.

Marianne walks over to me and touches my arm.

"I have some beautiful antique hair combs over here that I think would look beautiful on you."

She leads me over to a display in a glass curio. She unlocks the cabinet and points out some hair combs, but one really catches my eye.

"Oh, you have excellent taste," she says.

She points at the comb I'm admiring and unlocks more of the song. She pulls it out and places it in my hand.

"This is from the 1920s," she says. "This is eighteen-carat gold, which you can tell by the deepness of the gold's color. Those are genuine aquamarine and diamonds. Wow, they match your eyes."

Marianne sets the comb down and then picks up my hair, twists it, and sets the comb in place. She grabs the nearby mirror and holds it up to me. The comb is fantastic, and it fits in my hair perfectly. I turn the comb over to look at the handwritten sticker price and then pass the comb back to her. It's too expensive.

"Thank you. I'll have to think about it," I say.

"Well, everything here is up for negotiation."

She takes the comb and locks it back in the glass case. I look at it for a few more moments, absolutely loving it, but I could never afford anything like it.

Ryan catches up to me and shows me a couple of things that he's thinking of buying for his friend's cabin. I can't even focus on what he's showing me because I'm obsessing about the comb.

"Did you see anything you want?" he asks.

"No, I was just looking around. You know, window shopping."

"Okay, well, if you want to wait in the car, I'm just going to pick up these few things, and I'll be right out."

He hands me the car keys, and I head out to the car and let myself in. After a few minutes, he slides into the driver's seat.

"Ready for the ride home?" he asks.

"Sure," I say. "I can't believe how quickly the weekend flew by."

Ryan is quiet, but he has a funny smile on his face. I let it go, but I can't help but wonder what he's thinking about.

"Okay, what's going on?" I ask. "You haven't stopped smiling since we left the store. Did Marianne slip you her number?"

He laughs and turns to me before looking at the road again.

"I was trying to save it for dinner tonight, but I can't wait that long." He reaches into the bag from the antique shop, pulls out a small white box, and hands it to me.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Let's call it a souvenir."

I open the box, and inside, wrapped in tissue paper, is the hair comb I had admired.

"Oh no, we have to go back," I say. "This was too much."

"No, it's just right. I saw you looking at it. I even saw it in your hair. It's yours. It's beautiful. Just like you."

I twist my hair up and put the comb into my hair.

I'm done. It doesn't matter how much I thought not having sex with him was going to protect my heart. I can't deny how I feel about him any longer. I reach up and delicately touch the comb, then turn and smile at him. His hand slides over, and he weaves his fingers with mine.

I love him.