The Red Bikini (26 page)

“Baby, what do you need?” Giselle squeaked out, helping Fin with her top button.

“What are you doing?” Coco asked sleepily.

“Nothing, nothing, baby. . . . Fin is just . . .
kissing
me. We’re friends, and he’s saying good-bye. . . .”

Fin glanced up at that comment, then cleared his throat and turned toward Coco, nodding once.

Coco just stared at them, a little frown puckering her eyebrows, Ninja Kitty hanging by her side. “Is that what princes do?” She directed the question at Fin.

“Uh . . . well, sort of, Coco. I, um . . . I could have been more princely about it, I think. What do your books say?”

“They dance first.” Coco frowned sternly.

“Of course.” Fin smirked. “I think I need to work on some of this.”

Coco gave him another frown and sharp nod, then stretched her arms. “Are we going, Mommy?”

“Yes, yes, we are.”

Giselle moved swiftly around Fin, into the kitchen, to gather the Tupperware lid and rinse the cake knife.

Fin got back into Coco’s good graces with a few more knock-knock jokes as he helped them load the car with the Boo Boo Buddy, Coco’s jacket, the leftover graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate bars, and birthday cake. He finally closed Coco’s car door, quickly cupping Giselle’s neck once they were out of eyeshot and drawing her toward him for a quick kiss to the part in her hair. “That was the best birthday I ever had,” he whispered. “Can you come over again tomorrow night?”

“I thought you were flying out.”

“I can postpone.”

“You would . . . you would
do
that for me?”

“I would.”

He looked almost confused about that, but her pulse quickened at the thought of seeing him one more time—and that he wanted to see her.

“That would be great,” she finally said.

He nodded once and got her into the car, closing her door behind her.

She watched him in her rearview mirror, thumbs hanging off his jeans pockets, and sighed into the darkness of the rental car.

Darn.

Fin
was
a prince. And she was falling in love.

T
he gulls began their morning cry through Giselle’s window. She turned her head to see her little girl. She reached out and stroked Coco’s hair. No matter where they were, where Roy was, she and Coco would have each other.

The thought filled her with warmth as she stared at Coco’s little eyelashes, but her thoughts then turned to Fin, wondering whether he’d ever find anyone he could love. It was a strange turn. She even tried to push the thought away. But then she let it settle, and wondered whether Fin could fall in love with her. For the first time she saw how her own happiness could have its place in her life with Coco. For the first time she saw that finding her own joy was not so selfish when she was able to bring that joy to being a better mother.

She kissed Coco on the nose and climbed out of bed.

The smell of eggs filled her kitchen as she whipped up a quick breakfast, then gathered towels and bathing suits for surf camp. Coco was excited to return—she’d made Giselle promise five times they’d go.

“Coco!” Rabbit exclaimed when they arrived.

“I’m back!” she yelled, running down the dune and throwing her arms out like she’d just announced she was the Queen of England.

He laughed and extracted himself from her hug to pull a foam board for her. “Do you need to practice?”

She nodded, and he got her settled into some catch-up practice while he turned to meet the other parents.

“Glad she’s back,” he said to Giselle. “You can leave her here for a couple of hours, you know. Most parents do.”

Giselle spread her towel. “I’ll stay.”

“You can have a whole few hours alone, you know.”

“That’s okay.” She settled herself on her towel and pulled out her laptop. She still wasn’t in a place where she could leave Coco all by herself. She’d brought her camera again in case she needed a few more shots, but she was pretty sure she had what she needed. She planned to finish the brochure today.

As she shuffled granules of sand off her laptop, she saw Callie Sandoval arrive and drop off Jordan. Rabbit stumbled to greet her, and his face went red as he made small talk. Giselle smiled. She really needed to get those two together.

Surfing camp went smoothly. Although pangs of nervous terror still jolted through her every time Coco’s head disappeared underwater, she had to admit her day in the ocean with Fin had helped. She watched Coco doing the same tactics Fin had taught—how to go under the waves, how to count underwater, how to watch the beach and not drift too far.

Coco was giggling as she ran up, dripping, to Giselle’s wide-open towel. “Did you see me, Mommy?”

“Of course—I’ve been watching you the whole time. You’re something else out there.”

“Will you come out with me?”

“After camp.”

Coco’s eyes went wide. “Mommy’s coming out with me!” she squealed to Rabbit, who was handing out juice boxes to each of the kids. He winked at Giselle and kept moving.

Giselle settled Coco in her lap and let her drink the ridiculously sugared drink.

But mostly she thought about how loosening your grip on things often did bring them closer.

 • • • 

As grommet camp wrapped up, Giselle heard Coco squeal: “Fin’s here!”

Giselle felt a panic spike, but then she continued folding her towels, pretending she didn’t notice Fin’s eyes on her the whole time, pretending she wasn’t going to miss feeling this exhilaration every day, pretending her heart wasn’t already breaking at the idea she’d have to say good-bye. To him. To this. To this new life that was feeling better and better every day.

He talked with Rabbit and Corky about onshore swells in Trestles and whether there was too much coral in Ballito. His eyes kept drifting toward her, as if to make sure she wasn’t leaving. A few of the dads noticed Fin and asked for an autograph.

As Giselle turned her back, trying to act casual and packing her towels neatly, Callie caught her attention. She was one parent who didn’t notice Fin at all. She, instead, cast furtive glances at Rabbit, who zeroed in on her about the same time and broke his conversation to walk over and say good-bye. Giselle was proud of him.

“I forgot we needed to finish our surfing lesson.” Fin’s voice came over her shoulder.

She whirled and almost bumped right into his golden chest. “Oh—gosh, I . . . I don’t know if I can go out today.” She’d wanted to go out with Coco, but she planned on only going to her knees—wading all the way out again would take an emotional commitment she felt too drained for, after last night and this whole darned week. But man, she wanted to look at Fin . . . and be near him . . . and have him looking at her, like he was right now. . . .

“Mommy’s coming
out
to the ocean
!” Coco punctuated the celebration with a cartwheel.

“I can take Coco,” Rabbit announced.

“Hey, Coco,” Fin called, “is it okay if your mom comes out with me?”

Coco nodded. “She might need help.”

Fin laughed. “I’ll remember that.” He clapped Rabbit’s shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Before Giselle could think it through, Fin caught her hand and began dragging her down to the water.

“I don’t know, Fin.” She couldn’t help leaning back to slow him down. “I had a long time to get used to the water before.”

“I can throw you in if it’s easier. But you’ll need to get rid of some of those clothes first.” The grin that followed made it clear he was pleased with that fact.

She hesitated. She’d timidly put the red bikini on this morning, not expecting to unveil herself—or at least knowing she’d have the option to change her mind if she wanted to. But now she panicked. She hadn’t expected him to see her in it.

While he stared at the ocean with a pretend nonchalance, she forced the thoughts that had gone through her head this morning when she’d pulled the bikini out of the drawer:
I’m beautiful. I’m sexy. I’m an imperfect leaf. I’m desired. . . .

As the waves crashed chaotically, she wriggled out of her new jeans and threw her sweatshirt aside, leaving them right there in the sand.

Fin’s head turned. “
Damn
, Giselle.” His jaw went slack.

She walked past him, down to the water, her confidence soaring at every step.

He ran to keep up with her. “You’re killin’ me,” he said. “Not sure I can maintain princely thoughts.”

It was just as cold as the other day, but Giselle met the first few waves with intakes of breath and much less fear.

“Sorry about last night,” he added out of the side of his mouth. “Has she forgiven me?”

“You might have to learn to dance.”

Fin held her hand. She squeezed his.

“We’re here,” he said when they were in about to their waist. He tore his gaze away from her body for about the twentieth time and threw the board down, resting his palm on it. “This is where I’d paddle out, but we’ll keep you close here on these baby waves.”

She followed his instructions on everything. They leaned on the board together, so she could feel how it would hold their weight. He helped her climb on, balancing on her stomach, and stood beside her to hold the board until he found a wave he liked. His biceps strained against the power of the ocean, holding back her entire weight, one hand gripping each side of the board near her hip. His arm leaned across her thigh, near her bottom, shooting a tingle of awareness through her body.

“Fin!”

He laughed, as if embarrassed at being caught, and they both watched the ocean.

“Look behind you,” he instructed. “You’re waiting for some lift, waiting for just the right rise.”

She glanced over her shoulder and caught him taking a peek himself—staring again at her bottom.

“You don’t have to move your body like that, Giselle.”

“Oh.” She shifted again. “Am I changing the balance of the board?”

“No, you’re turning me on,” he said, staring out at the waves.

She tried to stay still.

“Okay, here’s one. See that peak?” He stepped forward, moving as if he were one with the ocean. The water lifted them up, up, up, and he let go of the board, giving her a push.

She “rode” all the way in, on her stomach, feeling the wind against her face and the rush of water and foam all around her.

“Stay on!” Fin yelled.

She did as he said—gripping the edge and flying through the air like Neptune until the wave wedged her into the sand. She pushed up before the water rushed back into her face.

“You did it!” Fin was sloshing through the water toward her, grinning. “Stoked?”

“Oh yeah!” She was breathless. And, most surprisingly of all, not scared.

“Want to go again?”

“Yeah!”

He laughed and helped her up. And they began all over again.

 • • • 

Giselle rode about fifteen tiny waves—a few on her stomach, several on her knees, and then one in a wobbly stance. She could see how addicting it was—each time she fell off, she wanted to get right back on.

They checked in with Rabbit and Coco a few times, but the two of them were having their own fun. Coco was already standing on the foam board. Eventually, Coco wanted to return to shore and have a snack. Rabbit said he had some extra cheese and crackers and juice from the lessons, so he nodded for Fin and Giselle to take off if they wanted.

Fin set Giselle on a couple more waves on her stomach, then helped her get way out into the water where they might find bigger waves. Although “bigger” on that day simply meant higher than a kneecap. It was a quiet day for the Pacific.

Out in the deep water, waiting for anything with lift, Fin and Giselle faced each other over the board, her toes no longer touching the sandy floor. Out there, it felt as if they were floating in a giant swimming pool, the water lifting them about two feet, then gently dropping them again. Fin kept glancing toward the horizon, but there were no peaks at all.

“Want to get on?” he asked. “We usually straddle the boards out here.”

“In a second—I’m kind of tired.”

He nodded and dropped under the water a moment, coming up and then stretching his arms to grip the other side. Water dripped from his eyelashes, his hair, his neck. He was hardly even breathing heavily.

“I want to see
you
surf,” she said, gripping the opposite side of the board and letting her legs kick loose underwater. She had been stealing glances at his abs and trunk-clad thighs all afternoon, the same ones that had given her so much pleasure just two nights before. The memory shot a tingle through her.

He chuckled. “Not much to ride.”

“Maybe another day?”

He lowered his watery eyelashes and didn’t answer. They both knew this was the end of the line for them.

His arms pulled across the board, parallel with hers. Water lapped against the fiberglass, and the gulls cawed. Only three other surfers were out.

As she caught her breath, kicking her legs underneath and staring at the board between them, he rested his chin on his arm and touched her shoulder with his knuckle, as if he were wiping away the drips. The gesture was so intimate, protective, yet suggestive, all at once—amplified, perhaps, by the fact that he refused to meet her eyes—that she almost stopped breathing.

“You did great,” he said. “I think you can check surfing off your short-term list.”

“That and the danged swearing?”

He smiled. “You might need to work on the swearing.”

His knuckle skimmed her shoulder again.

“Thank you, Fin.”

The smile left his face. “What you said about Veronica last night, though . . . It bothered me.”

Giselle blinked back ocean water and surprise. “Why?”

“I don’t want you to think I regard you that way, or regard our night that way. It was . . . different. Completely.”

Giselle stilled. “How?” she dared ask.

“I don’t think about Veronica the next day,” he said. “Or count the minutes until I’m going to see her again. But with you, I have been.”

Even as a crease formed between his brows, even as he seemed to hesitate while a million considerations raced through his head, he reached for her and secured his fingers at the base of her ponytail, pulling her toward him.

His lips met hers in a salty softness, causing everything around her to fall away, even the cold, even the fear that she couldn’t touch her toes to the sand. Her body floated forward as he slid his lips across hers once, then twice—as if still deciding whether he should do this or not. They leaned into the board, dipping it down enough for a rush of water to sweep past her breasts. His hand behind her head secured her to him, his mouth exploring with a sense of desperation that felt like a man remembering something he’d always wanted.

With that, he pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers. It was the first time she heard him trying to catch his breath.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to do that,” he said huskily.

“Coco got you scared?”

He smiled. “Well, you know, she
is
right. You deserve the whole dance.” A larger swell lifted them and dropped them slowly. “I wish I could give it to you.” He held her there for a second longer, then lifted his head. “We have today, though,” he finally said, letting go of her. “Want to grab lunch and take Coco somewhere this afternoon before you come over tonight?”

“I need to see Roy, actually. This is the evening we’re supposed to talk.”

“You’ll be all right? Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, no.” A slight panic rose at how angry Roy would be if Fin showed up.

“Do you feel comfortable with him? You can tell him off, you know. Anyone who can hold off those waves when she’s scared of them can hold her own, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Maybe I should have taken the swearing more seriously.”

“You can tell him to fuck off.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, but shook her head.

“Try it,” he implored.

She shook her head—it was too vulgar for her own sensibility. “I can’t,” she admitted.

He smiled and shook his head. “I love you, Giselle.”

He looked away, but, as if he realized what had just slipped out of his mouth, he glanced back at her. Rather than correct himself, he dipped his head underwater and watched the horizon while he sluiced water off his face.