Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I pick up the pace, suddenly more impatient to see Christine. I have too many questions to handle myself. Is Anne right? Should I go back to San Francisco? If I came to London to get away, has my self-imposed exile run its course?
Well, I do live in San Francisco, and I was always going to return. But I’ve avoided it. I suppose I’ve stayed here to avoid Gunnar—to avoid my own response to him.
My own obsession.
When I reach the pub, I quickly find Christine at the bar. I kiss her cheek, then I blurt out, “I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of fear holding me back. I think I need to make a change. A big change.”
Her lips crook up into a grin. “Rafe, what are you saying?”
I gird myself to dig down deep. “When I return to San Francisco, I need to figure out something, don’t I?”
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Figure out something? Your big decision is to decide something?”
I sit up straighter, slightly chastened. “Yes. With Gunnar,” I say, in case it’s not clear.
“I knew you were talking about Gunnar.”
“Well? Do you think I should figure something out?” I ask again.
She levels at me the most serious look she’s ever given. “Rafe, why don’t you aim a little higher than figuring something out?”
She’s right. Figuring something out isn’t enough.
As she hails the bartender to order me a drink, I click over to Gunnar’s social media. I don’t want one night with him. I don’t want thirty nights with him.
I want all the days and nights. I want more than an obsession.
When I reach the feed’s most recent photo, I smile, and it feels like it comes from deep within me. Gunnar stands in front of the ocean, wearing board shorts and a smile. One arm is draped around his sister, the other around his mother, and her arm links around Charlie.
The picture of Gunnar enjoying his family makes me the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time.
I think I’ve just figured out more than something. I’ve figured out everything.
Now I have to work out how to get it.
When Gunnar wanted to find me after the dance club, he threw out a lure on social media, posting an image of himself in Rafe Rodman briefs and an invitation to come and get him. He posted a thirst trap to get my attention. He has it now, along with all of my heart.
I click on his post and hit reply, writing: This makes me want to get into the bathing suit business.
Seconds later, there’s a response.
Well, what’s stopping you?
That’s an excellent question. “What the fuck is stopping me?” I ask myself aloud.
Christine smiles as she asks, “Is that what you’ve decided to figure out?”
I don’t have to. The only thing in the way of my heart is—me. I’m what’s stopping me.
“I am a daft idiot. I thought I was obsessed with him. But the only thing I’m obsessed with is work.”
Christine lifts her glass in a toast. “By George, I think he’s got it!”
I’ve had a good rationale for pouring myself into my business, but work doesn’t look at me the way Gunnar does. Work doesn’t make my heart thunder. Work doesn’t make me happy. It’s fulfilling, but I have wildly intelligent people like Matthew and Theresa on my team. People who can keep things humming. Who will help me with anything if I only ask.
I can say the same about my best friend, and I turn to her and ask for the help I need. “Would you come back to my hotel to help me with something?”
“Of course I will. That’s why I’m here.”
I pay the bill, and we take off. At the hotel, we head straight for Theresa’s suite, and I rap on the door.
When she sees us, she sweeps open the door with an invitation. “Come in.”
“Can you handle the rest of our business here?” I ask. “Closing the Bespoke deal? Managing the paperwork, the attorneys, the bankers? You can get in touch with me for my signature digitally.”
“It’s like we’re living in the twenty-first century,” Christine remarks, and Theresa laughs, ganging up on me.
“Laugh if you want,” I say. I know I’m tragically unhip, that e-signatures aren’t sorcery.
But for me, deviating from business requires a little magic.
47
A MIRAGE, OR NOT
Gunnar
A sapphire fish swims past me in the cool, clear waters, shimmering under the sea. I point it out to Mom, and even with a snorkel in her mouth, she beams. Jamie flippers her way closer, checking out a school of jewel-like fish, and I swim past a cove, then some coral, but soon I hit my snorkeling limit.
The off-season is wonderful and tiring. I signal to the fam that I’m taking off. They signal that they’re going to stay a little longer. Another day in paradise.