Aloha, page 79
“Can you promise to keep fucking me this week with the same kind of enthusiasm you just had in there?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I can definitely promise you that.”
“Then, yes. I’m sure.”
He holds up his glass of water. “Cheers to that.”
I clink his glass. “Cheers to us—to a week of fun in paradise. Absolutely no strings attached. And cheers to both of us dodging the biggest bullets of our lives.”
Part Four
Fun, Fun, Fun
I open my eyes and smile when I see Mateo’s stunning face on the pillow next to mine. He’s already awake and reading a book.
“Whatcha reading?” I ask, resting my cheek in my palm.
He tilts the book cover toward me and smiles. It’s a self-help book with a subtitle about unlocking your best self.
“Is it any good?”
“So far, yeah. I’m not fully unlocked yet, I don’t think. But I’m working on it.”
“You’re giving me a lady boner. I love to read so much. Do you read a lot?”
“A book a week, usually.”
“All of it self-help?”
“No, I read all kinds of things.” He lists off some of the genres he reads, and I’m so turned on, I sling my leg over him and press myself against him, letting him know I’m feeling horny again. Other than going out for food and taking walks along the shore, Mateo and I have spent the past three days exactly like this, naked and physically entangled in this bed. Or on the couch. And as a result, we’ve become insanely comfortable around each other in record speed. We’ll never know each other’s last names, and we’ll never see each other again after this crazy week, but while we’re here, my body is his to enjoy and vice versa, as much as possible. The sex has been so amazing with Mateo, in fact, I’m kicking myself for settling for so much less heat in all my past relationships. Granted, I didn’t know what I was missing at the time; but now that I do, I feel stupid for putting up with lukewarm, mediocre sex for so damned long.
“What do you do for a living, Mateo?” I ask. We haven’t shared any personal details. That’s been part of the fun. But suddenly, I’m craving information about him—the tiniest peek into his real life beyond the bubble of paradise.
“I’m in marketing. You?”
“I’m a kindergarten teacher.”
His features soften. “That’s amazing. I can totally see you doing that.”
“How dare you, sir. I’m a sex pot.”
He laughs. “Yes, you are. Damn straight.” He touches a lock of hair and grins. “And you’re also a very sweet, gentle person who seems like she’d be fantastic with kids.”
I blush. “Thank you.”
“Your ex is an idiot, Julia. You didn’t deserve what he did, okay? What he did has nothing to do with you. If it wasn’t you, he’d have done it to whoever else.”
“Back at you. What your ex did has nothing to do with you . . . Right?”
He chuckles. “You’re not sure?”
“Well, I mean, you’re the man here. And men can be dogs. I’m not saying you deserved to be cheated on. Absolutely not. That’s despicable. But I’m just wondering . . .”
“What I did to her first?”
I grimace. “Kind of. Yeah.”
To my relief, he smiles. “I got injured on the job and had to do some rehab and take some time off, and that was pretty hard on the relationship. But even harder was the fact that, when my employer renewed my contract, the bump in my salary wasn’t as much as she was hoping for. Not nearly as much as the bump my co-worker got. So, she decided to get with him, instead. Imagine that.”
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry, Mateo.”
He shrugs. “I’m just glad I found out before having a kid with her. That would have been a true catastrophe.”
My heart is thrumming. “You want to have a kid?”
“I’d love to have a kid. You?”
“Two or three.”
“Same.”
“Are you still injured now?”
“No, I’m fine now. It was my knee. I had surgery and I’m all better now. Good as new.”
I crinkle my forehead. Mateo got injured doing his job in marketing?
“So, listen,” Mateo says, before I’ve mustered the courage to ask for further details about his injury. He slides his palm to rest on the curve of my bare ass. It’s become the default resting spot for his palm. The place it belongs. “I’ve got a bunch of reservations-for-two this week, stuff that can’t be refunded. If any of it interests you, we could do some of it together.” He lists off the activities he’s got booked: parasailing, snorkeling, jet skiing, a sunset dinner cruise. And I laugh and tell him I’m in the exact same situation—holding multiple reservations-for-two that can’t be refunded at this point.
We open our calendars and cross-reference all the reservations and come up with an exciting itinerary—one that will keep us plenty busy throughout the entire week, when we’re not fucking each other’s brains out. I can’t believe it. When I made the various reservations for daily activities for Brayden and me, I knew he’d probably poop out for some of it. But I figured we’d go with the flow, once we got here, and pick and choose the things we wanted to do and let the other stuff go to waste. But now, out of nowhere, I’ve got a willing, excited companion for everything I’d planned for this week—and even more than that, since Mateo’s also got a bunch of fun stuff to share with me, too.
“So, which activity should we pick for today?” I ask excitedly, looking between our two calendars.
“How about my private boat cruise?” he suggests. “You had snorkeling booked today and sightseeing tomorrow, but we can combine both activities if we take the private boat I’ve got booked all day.”
“Awesome.”
“My excursion also includes a private chef making us a gourmet dinner on the yacht at sunset.”
Yacht? He called it a boat before. And now it’s a yacht? Is he being literal or silly by using that fancy word? If we’re truly going on a yacht today, and not a simple boat, then Mateo’s excursion will definitely be fancier than any of the reservations I’ve made for the week. “Yeah, that sounds perfect,” I say, trying to play it cool. “How much time before we need to leave? I definitely want to take a shower before we go.”
Mateo squeezes my ass, pulling me into him, and I feel the unmistakable sensation of his hard-on nudging against my thigh. “We have plenty of time to shower after I fuck you senseless again,” he coos. “It wouldn’t be a good day in Hawaii, if it didn’t start with me making Pretty Julia scream before getting out of bed.”
Part Five
Catching Feelings
It’s a yacht.
A fancy one, too.
Holy fuck.
“Hello, Mr. Ribaldi,” the captain says, shaking his hand vigorously. “Welcome. I’m a fan.” He takes my hand. “Mrs. Ribaldi. Congratulations.”
Mateo doesn’t correct the man, and I don’t blame him. He booked today’s excursion as part of a honeymoon package, and explaining the truth would be highly embarrassing. Who wants to explain the cancellation of their wedding to a complete stranger? Not me, that’s for sure. Also, this guy’s a fan? Of what?
“We’ve got welcome champagne and food set up for you here, sir,” another crew member says. A waiter of some sort. “And, of course, a full bar. Anything you’d like, you just let me know. I’m Leo, and I’ll be taking care of you today.”
“Thanks, Leo,” Mateo says. “We appreciate that.”
We get a tour of the yacht and Mateo is polite and kind to everyone. My father always says, “Watch how someone treats waiters and service staff. It’ll tell you everything you need to know about them.” Judging by Mateo’s easy charm with everyone, he certainly seems like a good guy. But then again, I’m a gullible idiot, so . . .
At the end of the tour, we’re shown where the equipment is for snorkeling, paddle boarding, and kayaking, and asked what we’d prefer to tackle first. When Mateo and I easily decide on snorkeling, off the yacht goes toward some nearby cove that’s supposedly the perfect spot.
As we make our way to our destination, Mateo and I sit and drink champagne and graze on the charcuterie board set out for us. But the second Mateo gets up to use the bathroom—the very nanosecond he’s gone!—I pull out my phone and search “Mateo Ribaldi.” And when his name comes up, along with a smiling photo that confirms I’ve found the right man, I gasp audibly. Mateo is a famous soccer player. A professional one who plays for a popular team in Spain—and, holy shit, his most recent contract, signed earlier this year after he battled back from a knee injury, was for ten million dollars per year! That wasn’t enough for his ex? What the fuck?
I peek toward the bathroom to make sure Mateo’s not coming out, and quickly return to my research. Mateo’s not the star of his team. The star is another guy who just signed a contract for forty million per year. But still, Mateo is widely respected and considered a huge reason for the team’s success. On chat boards, plenty of posts say something along the lines of “Mr. Big wouldn’t have half as many goals if it weren’t for Ribaldi.”
“Got you a rum punch,” Mateo says.
I jerk my head up and smile. “Thanks so much.” I put down my phone, face down, and raise my glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers. Thanks for being game to do this with me. It would have been a shame to waste the reservation.”
“No, this is amazing. Fabulous. I’m thrilled.”
He leans back. “You googled me.”
“Hmm?”
“You heard that guy say my last name and the minute I left, you googled me. It’s written all over your beautiful face, Julia.”
I blush and nod and hold up my phone, which is currently displaying the Reddit board I was reading about Mateo’s team. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I couldn’t resist.”
He grins. “I did the same thing, basically. Right off the bat. While you were in the shower that first time, I looked at your driver’s license and called the information into my assistant, who then ran a background check on you.”
I gasp. “A backgrouind check? Why?”
“To make sure you weren’t a crazy stalker fan who’d tracked me down on my honeymoon, intending to kill my new wife and take her place. For all I knew, you’d photoshopped that booking confirmation for the bungalow.”
I giggle. “Well, what’d you find out about me? Anything exciting?”
“Very exciting. I found out you’re a sweet kindergarten teacher who’s deeply adored by your students and their parents and everyone else who’s ever crossed paths with you, basically. You won a big science fair in seventh grade and got to go to Washington DC to present it. And your father invented some computer-chip something twenty years ago that he licensed and it’s now made him a whole lot of money.”
“He’s not leaving it to me. My mother died of cancer, so he’s leaving half his money to cancer research and the other half to some children’s charities. I’ll get an inheritance one day, but I’m not going to be obscenely loaded, by any stretch.”
Mateo chuckles. “You’re worried I’ve been fucking you this week to get a piece of a possible future inheritance?”
When he says it like that, it sounds pretty silly. “No. I’m not worried about that. I’ve always had my guard up about that particular topic. But, no, I don’t think that at all.”
“Good. Because I fucked you that first time on a whim. I needed to escape my feelings, as much as you did.” His dark eyes sparkle. “And I kept on fucking you because you’re the most fun I’ve ever had.”
My heart leaps. “Really? Because you’re like a magic portal to me, Mateo.”
He laughs. “What?”
“You take me places I’ve never been. Make me feel things I’ve never felt. It’s like you’re a magic portal into another dimension—another version of me.”
He raises his glass. “Well, cheers to that. To new versions of ourselves. The best ones.”
I clink. “Cheers to that.” I take a sip. “I promise I didn’t recognize you when I walked into the bungalow. I don’t follow soccer. I honestly don’t know a single player’s name. Well, other than yours now and that other guy on your team.” I say the name, and Mateo’s face falls. And suddenly, I realize my mistake. I look around to make sure none of the crew is nearby and whisper, “Is he the one who slept with your fiancée?”
Mateo nods.
“I’m so sorry, Mateo.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s terrible. How are you going to play with him now, game after game, knowing—”
“I’m not. I told my agent to get me released or traded as soon as possible. I’m waiting to find out where I’m going next.”
“When will you find out?”
He shrugs. “A week, probably. Two, at most.”
“Where will you go before then? Where do you live?”
“Nowhere at the moment. I don’t want to go back to Barcelona any time soon. Paparazzi follows me whenever I’m there. That’s why I planned my honeymoon on the other side of the world. So we wouldn’t be bothered. I’m sure the scandal will get out soon. These things never stay private. And once that story hits the tabloids, I won’t want to step foot back in Barcelona.”
“Scandal?”
“My ex is a popular model and actress in Spain. From what I’ve been told, he’s still with her. So, if they get caught together, anywhere, I’m sure the full story will break, including the part where she dumped me for him.”
Oh, my heart. “I’m really sorry.” I reach across the small table to touch his hand. “Let’s book another week and stay here until you know where you’re going. Why not? We’re having so much fun. Let’s keep having fun.”
“You don’t need to get back sooner than that?”
“I’m off from work for the whole summer. That’s the best perk of being a teacher.”
A wide grin spreads across his gorgeous face. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it. I’ll figure out the arrangements when we get back tonight.”
“Awesome. We’ll have fun in paradise and forget the real world even exists.”
Part Six
Feelings Officially Caught
I rest my cheek on Mateo’s broad shoulder and sigh as I watch the sun dipping below the horizon. The sky before us is painted in vibrant hues of pink, orange, and red—beautiful colors that would make my soul soar, if my heart weren’t aching so badly. After two weeks with Mateo in paradise, he’s heading to his new hometown tomorrow. LA. To his shock, the team that signed him is the LA Galaxy. Which means he’s going to be living about two hours from my hometown of San Diego. Not gonna lie, when he told me about his new contract, I immediately wondered if he’d be interested in seeing me again in the real world, given how geographically close we’ll be to one another. But I banished the thought, as quickly as I had it. From the get-go, we both agreed to a no-strings fling. That was the deal.
“I wish we could press some kind of cosmic pause button,” he murmurs. “I wish we could stay in paradise like this forever.”
“Mm hmm,” I say. I don’t want to let myself hope he’s thinking about a future with me. I don’t want to think that way and set myself up for disappointment. Two weeks ago, I was ready to say “I do” to Brayden, after all. Clearly, it’s way too soon for me to even think about getting seriously involved with anyone else. Even someone as amazing as Mateo.
"When I decided to go on my cancelled honeymoon by myself,” Mateo says, “I never in a million years thought I'd meet someone like you here. Never.”
“Same here.”
“Not true. You told the whole church you intended to get yourself ‘railed.’”
We both crack up.
“Turns out, you did a whole lot more than rail me,” I admit. “You’ve brought me back to life. Joined me on a fantastic adventure. I’ll never forget this time with you. Ever.”
It’s all true. But there’s more to it than that. I’m in love with him. That’s not part of our deal, though. Also, it’s a batshit crazy thing to feel, given the white dress and veil I was wearing a mere two weeks ago. Indeed, if I went home and told my family about Mateo, and admitted my feelings for him, they’d rightly get me involuntarily committed. But the fact remains, even if I’m smart enough not to say it out loud, that I really do have love in my heart for Mateo. I know we’re not going to wind up together, obviously. I know what I feel is partly situational. He’s a Band-Aid. An extremely hot, kind, gentle, laid-back, handsome, hot, hot, hot Band-Aid. But a girl can love a Band-Aid, can’t she? As long as she’s not stupid enough to tell the Band-Aid what she’s feeling? If you ask me, the answer to that question is a resounding yes.
“So, listen,” Mateo says. “This might sound crazy, but—”
“Yes.”
Mateo laughs. “You don’t know what I’m going to ask you.”
“Whatever it is, my answer is yes. I’m open to anything, especially if you have to preface it with ‘This might sound crazy.’”
“God, you’re fun. I love that about you.”
My heart races. That’s a big word, even if it’s only a figure of speech.
He kisses my cheek. “I was going to ask if you’d let me share you, sexually, with all my new teammates. That’s a thing all players do in the league, when they join a new team. They share their girlfriend with—”
I punch his shoulder playfully. “Say what you were really going to say, you dork.”
He’s laughing too hard to continue for a long moment. As he laughs, it suddenly occurs to me: he just now used the word girlfriend. He said it in the midst of a joke, of course. But was the girlfriend part as much of a joke as the sharing thing, or was that part sincere?
Mateo collects himself. “To be clear, I’d never want to share you with anyone. The very idea makes me feel physically sick. I want you all to myself. What I was actually going to say when you jumped to yes so fast is that I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet. I’d like you to come to LA.”
