Chapters 10-12 Beautiful Mine

CHAPTER 10

Connor

I wanted our last time together to be different, but thinking back on how we started, compared to the insane way we finished, I can see anything else would’ve torn my heart out.

It’s six in the morning. Whitney’s already scheduled a cab pick-up and is in the bathroom, getting ready to take her shower. I’ve gotten dressed—I’ll shower after she goes—and am sitting on the edge of the bed. Whitney’s impending departure is pulsing through my veins.

I hear the shower water turn on. Something inside me starts to sink and grow still. I listen for a few minutes, not moving. When I do move, it’s to pull out my phone and dial my sister. I just need to hear her voice. She answers after the second ring.

“Hey!” Lizzy says, always so happy to hear from me.

“Hey sis.” I try to make my voice sound normal.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” I say, trying harder. “I saw a stork yesterday and it made me think of you. You’ll have to tell Rayce.” It’s an old joke. It’s not really funny at the moment.

She laughs. “I will.”

I’ve successfully diverted her, but it does me no good. “I met someone.”

I didn’t mean to say those words, even though they’re true. The full and weighty implications of them are all true.

There’s silence on the line. Maybe because I said it like it’s something I’m already regretting. “What does that mean exactly?”

“Nothing. Just that I met someone.”

“You’re seeing her?”

I grip the side of the bed. “Not exactly.”

There’s more silence. Only the sound of the shower water. My heart’s pounding painfully. “Okay Mr. Elusive,” Lizzy says. “What exactly is it then? You’re the one who brought it up, you know.”

“I know. Her name’s Whitney. I met her outside of Arca.”

“There in Spain?”

“That’s right.”

“Is she Spanish?”

“No. She lives in San Francisco.” I don’t know why I’m telling Lizzy any of this. I really don’t.

“So, you like her?”

I nod but I don’t say anything. I’m just listening to the shower. I wish Lizzy were here. Or I was there. These are the times when I feel too far away and too alone.

“Geez, Connor. Why’d you even say anything if you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“Sorry. I don’t know. I just… thought you’d like to know.”

“I don’t even know what I know,” she says lightly, accepting my ways for what they are, like she always has. “But I’m happy if you’re happy. Does she make you happy?”

Irrelevant. All irrelevant. “She leaves for San Francisco today. She lives there.”

“Yeah,” she says slowly, responding to my tone, which hasn’t changed one wit since I said I met someone. “You mentioned that.”

She’s right here, I want to say. She’s on my boat, in my shower, in my head, in my veins.

“What’s this about, Connor?” Lizzy says quietly. “Do you want to follow her to San Francisco? You could, you know.”

“I know, but…” I take a deep breath and lean my elbow on my knee, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose between two fingers.

“But what?”

“How long would that last?” I say, not moving. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

Lizzy sighs. “Well. That’s something to think about,” she says gently.

I let my arm drop and fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Lizzy sighs again. “I don’t know if you want advice or if you just need me to listen or what.” One of the great things about Lizzy is she’s careful not to give unsolicited advice. “I wouldn’t know what to tell you anyway because I don’t know enough.”

“I know. I wasn’t looking for advice, I guess. Just telling you. Like telling you I saw a stork yesterday. It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh huh.” She doesn’t believe me. Nor should she. “You’re full of shit, you know.”

“That’s what I hear.” I sigh. We sit on the line in silence for a moment.

“Are you okay?”  

The shower water shuts off and I sit up. “Yeah. Look, I’d better go. Give everyone my love.”

“I will. But you know you’re in my dog house now.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because now I’m going to wonder about this Whitney person until we talk again and I get to find out if she’s still in your life or not.”

The pang of that truth pinches my heart. I understand what she’s saying. People don’t stay in my life. Because people are kind of like plants and tend to want to pick a spot of ground to grow in, while I don’t stay in one place long enough to grow any roots that matter. I can’t seem to do it. Not even for the people I love.

Evie’s words come back to haunt me: “It’s not fair to be with someone when all you want to do is leave.” And she was right. It’s not fair. I imagine Whitney one day looking at me the way Evie did that day, brows pulled down, arms crossed, anger and resentment all over her face.

I don’t want Whitney to ever have to hate me like that.

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you too, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me kiddo,” I say automatically, like she knew I would.

She laughs and we hang up.

By the time Whitney comes out of the bathroom, fresh-faced and clean, I’m resolved we’ll say goodbye as we should, with a smile on her face and a smile on mine.

No matter how much it hurts.

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Chapter 11

Whitney

Connor isn’t wearing his navy shirt, or his green shirt. He’s pulled something else entirely out of his closet: tan sailing pants and a white, collared polo. I, on the other hand, am still in my Camino outfit. It only adds to my feeling that we’ve already separated and this is already over. The morning has been busy with preparations since the moment the alarm went off. And now we’re standing on the deck of his boat—which is shining and beautiful in the morning sun—watching the cab pull up in the parking lot.

Connor waves, getting the driver’s attention, and the cab comes to a stop.

“I’ll walk you there.” He bends down to pick up my pack.

“No.” I stop him.

He gives me a questioning look, and I smile. I’m determined to smile. It’s not entirely fake, even if it is bittersweet. “Before I get in that cab, I want to look back and see you on your boat. That’s the last image I want of you.”

He just looks at me, searching my eyes, as if to decide if he’s supposed to argue with me or not. I smile again and wrap my arms around his waist, still looking up at him.

He sighs and smiles too. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” The tears are building, thick in my throat and pooling in my eyes. I don’t try to stop them, because my smile is as genuine as my tears. “Thank you, Connor.”

“No.” He brushes my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Thank you, Whitney.”

He presses his lips to mine and lingers softly. We break our kiss and sink into an embrace. I go up on my tiptoes, and hook one arm over his shoulder, nestling my nose in his neck. He tucks into me too. We stay like this, holding each other firmly, not speaking, not moving. Only breathing each other in.

Then it’s time.

I release and slowly come out of his arms. We give each other one last smile, tender and fond, then he holds his hand up and helps me step off the boat and onto the dock. He hands me my pack and I heft it onto my shoulders. We look at one another and take deep breaths.

“See you around, Whitney,” he says, like a wish.

But I know better.

“Goodbye, Connor.”

With that I turn and head down the dock, feeling every step. I get to the end and turn left, so I can make my way toward the parking lot and the waiting cab. I glance at him, and he’s watching me, his hands in his pockets. I look back to the worn boards in front of me and too soon, I’m at the cab.

The driver takes my pack and puts it in the trunk. I open the back door, and only then do I turn for one last look. He’s still there, watching me. He takes one hand out of his pocket, and raises it in farewell.

I think about going back. Of course, I do. But go back for what? I can’t change reality, and the reality is that trying to claim Connor as my own would be like trying to put sunshine in a box. It can’t be done, because as soon as you close up the box, the sunshine is eaten by the dark.

So I raise my hand in farewell too. I want the smile on my face to be the last thing he sees.

I’ll let my tears flow later. 

eleven months later

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Chapter 12

Whitney

It’s always interesting, thinking back on my time on the Camino. In my mind there are two parts. Part one was walking to Santiago. That’s the part that gave me the time I needed to realize there’s more to me and my life than just work, even with the kind of work I do. It was the clarity I’d been hoping for. I’d been neglecting too many sides of myself before Spain, and became determined to live a more balanced life after Spain.

Part two, of course, was Connor. He helped me bring those abstract ideas about life into sharp focus. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as alive as I did during those few days with him. He made my desire for that more vivid, and, yes, he made me realize I really did want a relationship in my life.

I have both cursed the fact that our time together was so short, and been grateful for it. If we’d been together much longer, I may have just fallen in love with old Navy Shirt, and then where would I be?

I still think about him. Still wonder about him. Still imagine him coming to a fork in the road and getting that glint in his eye. I love that about him, even though that’s the very thing that makes him out of my reach.

Since the Camino, I’ve had mixed success with my new goals. It’s funny how even something as monumental as walking the Camino can fade in our memories with time. I still work too much sometimes, get worn out, and have to reel myself back in and start over. But I’m better about making time for myself, time for my friends, and time for dating.

Well, sort of dating. More like going on one or two dates with somebody and just leaving it at that. I’m not trying to be overly picky or anything, but some of the yahoos out there. Honestly.

I’d just… like a guy like Connor. Except for the can’t-stay-in-one-place-long-enough-to-commit-to-anyone part. Except that.

But I’ve yet to find anyone who even comes close.

Maybe that’s why, in spite of myself, I’ve found myself looking around for him each time I’ve come to Swan Pointe. I’ve been here twice in the last two months, both for work-related reasons.

Last time I was here, it was to place a brother and sister from Myanmar with their new family. While I was here, I visited Nadim and his adoptive parents. I bonded even more with Nadim and Abigail, his mother, who’s so great to talk to that I told her it’s a shame she can’t adopt me.

Nadim was excited about the Junior League baseball season that was just starting. His team almost won the championship last year and I promised him if his team made it to the finals again this year, I’d come watch him play. With that big grin of his, he told me he’d be sure to make it happen.

True to his word, he did. The game’s tomorrow morning.

True to my word, I’m here. I’m using a vacation day to make a long weekend of it. I flew in last night, Thursday, so I could have Friday here, too. I had dinner with Nadim and his family last night, and today Abigail and I are having lunch, just the two of us, which I’m really looking forward to. Tomorrow is the game, and Sunday morning I’ll visit the brother and sister to see how they’re doing. I fly out Sunday afternoon.

The last time I came, I stayed at the Everland Hotel, one of many in Swan Pointe. I have no idea if it’s the one Connor’s family owns, but it didn’t matter. Every time I entered the lobby, every time I got in the elevator, I half expected him to just magically appear. I knew it wasn’t going to happen, and I was creating disappointment in myself I didn’t need to feel, but I couldn’t seem to stop those thoughts anyway. Besides, I kept reminding myself, even if I did see him, what then?

This time I’m staying in one of several little bungalows right along the beach. It’s a charming clapboard cottage in light blue with white trim. It’s older and in need of some maintenance and updating, but it has the advantage of being right next to the water—and not a Swan Pointe hotel that’s going to drive me nuts every time I step into the lobby or the elevator.

I’m meeting Abigail at The Wadsworth Room, a restaurant inside the Rivers Paradise Resort that Abigail promises has the best fish tacos in California. The resort is situated on a high bluff overlooking the bay, and the bungalows are down on the beach below it. I consider walking around and up the hill as it’s not that far, and I could use the exercise, which I don’t get enough of. But I don’t feel like making the climb and end up taking my rental car up to the resort anyway.

I’ve always been curious about the famous Rivers Paradise Resort. I’d wanted to come check it out the last time I was here, but it was a short trip that was taken up almost entirely by business and I just didn’t get the opportunity.

As I drive up the hill and the resort comes into view, I have a feeling it’s going to live up to its reputation. It’s a superb example of California architecture, with beautiful brick and iron work on its grand central building, which looks about ten stories high or so. Flanking either side of the main building, there are two shorter wings that are maybe six or seven stories high and stretch back at forty-five degree angles. The circular drive sweeps under a gorgeous stone portico, and curves around a crystalline pond that’s adorned with flowers and home to the resort’s famous pair of swans. The massive grounds are impeccably landscaped. Beyond that is a sweeping view of the ocean.

Forgoing valet service, I opt for self-parking and make my way to the building and its grand entrance. As I approach the bay of glass and wood doors, a doorman in a smart navy jacket opens the door for me. I smile and nod my thanks, grateful I thought to dress up a bit.

I’m in a slender, sleeveless black dress with a form-fitting bodice and a skirt that flares gently at my thighs and stops just above my knees. A soft poppy-colored, see-through shrug gives it a pop of color, which is echoed in my strappy heels. I took the time to style my hair with large, soft curls and put on just a touch of makeup. I don’t own any expensive jewelry—I’ve never really wanted any—but am wearing a short necklace and delicate bracelet that tie the whole outfit together.

Being in a place of such graceful luxury only amplifies how I feel in these clothes. I feel like a queen. There are plenty of guests in casual shorts and shirts, and a few in swimsuits and cover-ups who are most likely on their way to the beach. But others are dressed up like me.

The lobby floor is all marble and features a gorgeous, intricate tile medallion in the middle, which is perfectly centered beneath the slightly domed ceiling two stories above me. The ceiling is trimmed with ornately carved wood support pieces and is breathtaking.

Everywhere I look, I see the kind of attention to detail that lends to the luxurious feel of the place: beautiful sconce work, original art in massive gilded frames, intricately carved side tables with expensive-looking porcelain vases overflowing with fresh flowers.

The front desk is made of walnut and adorned with a few sculpted lamps that give a gentle ambiance. Ditto the concierge desk and bell hop stand. On the other side of the registration desk, the lobby lets out to a large, carpeted area dotted with exquisite seating areas and a gleaming black grand piano. Forget the beach. I could just hang out here all day.

Passing through the lobby, I come to a broad interior hallway—adorned with paintings and stone statues in little nooks—that goes to the right and left. There’s a long bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that give a wide view of the beautiful rear grounds, where I see one of the resort’s extravagant pools and an outdoor dining area.

A simple but elegant-looking sign indicates which way to go for the fitness center, spa, conference rooms, and various restaurants, among other things.

I turn to the right, wondering if I was supposed to meet Abigail in the resort’s lobby or at the restaurant itself. In a few moments, I have my answer. The wide, open entrance to The Wadsworth Room is directly ahead of me and Abigail is waiting out front. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and cream shell top, holding her purse in front of her, and breaks out into a smile when she sees me.

“Have you been waiting long?” I give her a hug.

“No, I just got here a couple minutes ago.” She leads us to the hostess stand, where a finely-dressed young woman waits for us with a friendly smile. “I was—” Abigail starts to say, but something interrupts us.

“Whitney?” It’s coming from some distance behind me, but I heard the strong call of my name clear enough to know exactly who it is the second I hear it. My heart leaps into my throat.

“Connor?” I spin and scan the broad hall behind me.

I knew his voice, but I almost didn’t recognize him. He’s in a silk button-down shirt—the first button undone—and a fine suit coat, and the scruffy beard is nowhere to be seen. But I know those intense blue eyes and my jaw drops in surprise as he hurries toward me. The blood is sprinting through my veins.

“Oh my god.” I put my hand on Abigail’s arm to indicate she should wait for me, and head in his direction. His eyes scan me quickly, taking me in, his face a mix of shock and happiness. Same as I’m feeling.

The closer I get to him, the more I can’t believe it. He’s here. Oh my god, Connor is right here in front of me.  

“How—?” he says, smiling and holding his arms out. I practically skip the last few steps to him and then I’m in Connor’s arms and he’s lifting me just slightly off my feet and something deep inside me is sighing and laughing and dancing.

“Holy shit,” I say and he laughs in my ear.

It feels so amazing to be in his arms again. God, I can hardly think.

He sets me down and I step back and look up at him, both of us grinning. “Are you staying here?” he asks as Abigail comes up, curious.

“No.” I gesture to her. “We’re here for lunch.”

“Ah.” He glances at the restaurant behind us.

“This is Abigail. Nadim’s mom.”

“Oh right.” He takes her hand and shakes it.

“And this is Connor.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “I brought Whitney for the fish tacos.”

“Ah, yes. Excellent call. If you’re going with seafood, you may want to try the mango shrimp, as well. The chef just added it to the summer menu and it’s fantastic.” He glances down the hall toward the lobby and I follow his gaze, but my overloaded brain feels like it’s trying to work something out.

Coming down the hallway in the opposite side of the lobby, are two people I recognize as Connor’s brother and sister. The brother, Rayce, is also in a suit, like Connor. His sister Lizzy is in a smart red blazer and skirt.

Wait a minute.

“Hang on.” Connor holds up a finger and takes a step in their direction. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Uh,” I say as he hurries away. Uhhhh…. I think, rather coherently.

“I didn’t know you knew Connor Rivers,” Abigail says as we watch Connor go up to his siblings and say something.

“Holy shit.” I totally did not mean to say out loud in front of her, because she’s not a woman who’s fond of swearing, but holy shit.

Rivers? As in the Rivers Paradise Resort?

I bite my lip to keep from saying holy shit again.

Connor starts heading back and his siblings linger, apparently waiting for him. His sister is watching us curiously, but his brother… well, frankly, his brother is checking his watch, looking pretty irritated.

Connor comes back up to us and I gawk at him. “Some hotel!”

He laughs and shrugs. “Sorry. Here.” He pulls his phone out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to me. Damn, look at you looking all professional, I want to say. “Put your number in. I’ve got a meeting I can’t miss but I’ll call you when I get out.”

I enter my number with slightly shaking fingers. I still can’t believe he’s here. And I can’t believe this is the freaking hotel. Geez!

I give him his phone and we take each other in. My heart’s fluttering like mad.

“It’s good to see you, Whitney,” he finally says, putting his hand briefly on my arm. Which only makes things worse. Okay, deep breath.

“You too.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he says to Abigail and then just like that, he leaves to rejoin his siblings and is gone.

I exhale deeply, staring at the space he just vacated. Holy hell.

“How do you know Connor Rivers?” she asks.

“Um.” I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and will my heart to settle down. “We met on the Camino del Santiago last year.”

“Oh wow.” We turn back toward the restaurant. “Small world.”

“Uh huh.” The hostess leads us into a space that’s the perfect blend of elegance and casual, with brick accents and colorful blown glass light fixtures. What’s he doing here? Is he back? Did the wild little wanderer decide to finally settle down? Because if he did…

“They’re such a nice family,” she says as we take our seats at a small table along the back wall. The hostess gives us our menus and departs.

“Do you know them too?”

“Oh no. I know of them. Most people around here do. They just seem really nice though.” She opens her menu. “Such a shame about the parents.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

She glances up, a serious expression on her face. “You don’t know?’

“Know what?”

She puts down the menu and leans in. “They passed away last year.”

My hand flies to my mouth.

“Drowned in a boating accident.”

“Oh my god.”

She nods soberly and returns to her menu. “Yes. It was such a pity. Those poor kids.”

I return to my menu too, but I’m not really seeing it. Oh, God. Poor Connor. My heart aches as I imagine what he’s been going through. What they’ve all been going through. I feel like crying and blink back the tears that are wanting to build, trying to keep my emotions under control.

“Oh dear,” Abigail says gently. “I forget what a tender heart you have.”

“No, I’m okay,” I say, slightly embarrassed and not wanting her to make a fuss. “I cry at Kleenex commercials.” That’s not exactly true, tender heart notwithstanding, but she smiles at my explanation and goes back to the menu.

My phone vibrates and I pull it out of my purse, my mind reeling. It’s a text from a number I don’t recognize. Now you have my number. How long are you in town?

Till Sunday, I text back, but what I want to say is, ‘God, Connor, are you okay?’

Good. I’ll call you soon. That’s the last I hear for the rest of lunch. I try to have a nice visit with Abigail but I’m having a hard time listening as well as I should. All I can think about is Connor.

You’ve been reading Beautiful Mine.