He smiled, his eyes still closed. “Obviously, we didn’t spend our time there on the beaches. The first day we got there, we were driving on these unpaved roads through these pathetic little towns. I mean, these houses, Andie, half of them didn’t even have doors. They looked like they’d fall over if you breathed near them. It was just like those commercials you see on television: little kids playing with sticks in mud puddles, dressed in rags. And I felt so bad for them, for the shitty way they lived, for their horrible lives.”
He turned his head toward her, opening his eyes. “But you know what? Those people, the ones in the town we stayed in, they were the happiest people I’d ever met in my life. Always smiling, or singing, just getting through their day with whatever they had. And they had nothing, but they’d give you the sorry excuse for a shirt off their backs if you needed it.” He shook his head. “I know people worth seven figures who aren’t as generous as these people were.”
He turned his eyes back to the sky. “I say they had nothing, but they had nothing by my standards, things my fourteen-year-old brain couldn’t fathom existing without. They didn’t have televisions or DVD players, or books, or nice clothes, or phones. But they didn’t give a shit. They were fine without those things. They had food, and shelter, and with the help of the program, medical care. And that was all they needed.”
He closed his eyes again. “I still have some pictures I took when I was down there. At the time I was just using some cheap disposable camera, but there’s this picture of one of the women from the town, and she’s sitting in front of a small pond with her son on her lap. This woman’s smile,” he shook his head slightly, “it’s one of the most genuine smiles I’ve ever seen. It’s not tinged with vanity, or manipulation, or desire. It’s just…happiness. Pure happiness.” He sighed softly. “It’s probably the most beautiful picture I’ve ever taken.”
Andie sat staring at him, the emotions washing over her quicker than she could name them. She felt the muscles in her arm twitch with the desire to reach over and touch him, run her hand through his hair, along the angular line of his jaw, down the length of his arm; but instead, she laid down next to him, their bodies mere inches apart as she stared up at the sky.
There were a million things she wanted to say, things she could have or should have said, but she suddenly found herself telling him something she had never told anyone, a random memory from her childhood she had never quite been able to forget.
“Once, when I was ten, I was playing in the park near my house,” Andie said, her voice soft. “I was sitting on the swings and I saw this couple, this man and woman sitting on the bench nearby. I was fascinated with the way they were wrapped around each other, almost like I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I’d never seen anything like it. He kept kissing her. Kissing her everywhere. Her lips, her cheeks, the back of her hand, and she couldn’t stop smiling. I watched them the whole time they sat there. And even when they got up to leave, even when they were walking away, they were still wrapped around each other, like they were one person, or like it would cause them physical pain to be separated.”
She was aware of his eyes on her, that he had turned his head to look at her.
“And that night, I went home, and I sat at the dinner table, and I watched my mom and my dad, how they circulated around each other in the kitchen, like magnets turned over, you know? Unable to cross that invisible boundary that prevents them from clicking together. I mean, they were civil. They were kind. They talked about their days. They talked to me. But they didn’t touch, and they didn’t kiss, and they didn’t hug, and I realized then that they never really did. And I was only ten, but I remember wondering that night if the couple in the park was strange, or if my parents were.”
It was a moment before he spoke, the low timbre of his voice penetrating the silence. “It’s not a matter of one couple being strange and one being normal. Or even one being happy and one being unhappy. Maybe they both had exactly what they needed. Maybe they were both happy with what they had.”
Andie closed her eyes and nodded softly. In all the years that memory had plagued her, she had never thought of it that way.
“Did you ever ask yourself the real question, though?” he asked.
She opened her eyes and rolled her head to the side to face him, and as soon as she did, she wished that she hadn’t. Their faces were a few inches apart, his green eyes intense as they connected with hers.
“What’s the real question?” she managed, her voice soft.
“What do you want, Andie? Which of those scenarios would make you happy?”
She needed to look away, but she couldn’t. And if he wanted to, it didn’t show. He kept his eyes on hers, the air heavy with unspoken words as he waited for her answer.
The sharp sound of her phone ringing pierced the silence, and Andie jolted upright, fumbling in her purse for it as her heart crashed against her ribs.
“Hello?” she said as she brought the phone to her ear, her voice somewhat shaky.
“Hey, babe.”
“Colin,” she said, his name sounding more like a statement than a greeting. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chase sit up slowly, running his hand through his hair as he looked off in the opposite direction.
“Where are you? Are you almost here?” he asked.
“Um, well, not quite. It’s gonna be a few more hours,” she said as she sat up straight and smoothed out her shirt.
“Really? What happened?”
“We hit traffic.”
She saw Chase turn to look at her then, and she caught his eyes for just a moment before she looked away. But in that instant, she saw in them exactly what she herself was thinking: they weren’t doing anything wrong. What they were doing was completely innocent, wasn’t it?
So then what reason did she have to lie?
By the time they got to the hotel in Tampa, it was after eight, and as they walked into the lobby of the Westin Tampa Harbour Island, the place where the wedding would be held the following evening, Andie lingered near the front desk where Chase approached the concierge. She knew Colin was in room 516. There was no reason for her to go to the front desk, and no good reason for her to wait.
Yet she found herself doing it anyway.
Chase glanced over at her, forcing a tiny smile. “You can go up. I still need to get a room, and then I’m probably gonna hit the bar and have a drink.”
“Oh…okay,” Andie said, taking a tiny step away from him.
“Go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the elevators. “I’m sure Colin can’t wait to see you.”
Andie nodded. “So…I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Chase nodded with a smile. “Good night, Andie,” he said before turning his attention to the concierge as she started asking him for information. Andie began walking over to the elevators, wondering if he was watching her leave and fighting the urge to turn around and find out. She hit the button and waited anxiously for the elevator, and as soon as she was inside and the doors closed, she exhaled heavily, her shoulders dropping as she leaned against the mirrored wall. She turned then, catching sight of her reflection.
“What’s happening to you?” she asked her likeness softly, just as the doors dinged open. She stood up and adjusted the bag on her shoulder, taking a deep breath before she stepped out into the hallway.
Andie approached the door of room 516 and knocked gently. A few seconds later, the door swung open and Colin smiled widely.