We finally land in Peru. It's more beautiful than anything I've ever seen. Max insists on paying for everything, even though I tell him I can pay my own way. He's not having it. We stay in luxury hotels, but on the hike, we sleep in a tent and that's the most romantic part of the whole trip. Every night, even though we're both incredibly exhausted from miles of walking, we make love. Not sex. This isn't two naked sweaty bodies thrashing together. What happens in that tent is sensual and lovely and makes me feel more whole than I've felt in a long time. We look into each other's eyes, and he whispers to me, telling me how beautiful I am and how much he wants me. It truly is making love on my part because that's exactly how I feel. I love this man. There's no denying it anymore. I won't be the first to say it out loud, but I might be the first to admit it to myself.
After two weeks, we leave Peru and go to Scotland. Jet setting is more tiring than I thought it would be. We arrive in Edinburgh and go straight to the bed and breakfast we booked. It's an adorable little country home surrounded by gardens and Scottish Highland cows roaming in the fields around it. They are the cutest things I've ever seen, all long-haired and fluffy with long horns. Our cab driver, in his thick accent, tells us that they are a protected animal kept as pets only and are treated better than most dogs in the states.
Max and I both get some much needed sleep before we set off to see the sights. I could live like this, every day lying next to him, breathing in that scent I've come to know and love, waking up to that face every morning. The way he looks at me makes me certain he feels it too, but he hasn't said it. Maybe he's waiting for me to say it first. Maybe he's as afraid of getting his heart broken as I am.
When we wake up from our nap, it's still early. The sky is overcast and it's cold out. That's the weather in most of Scotland on a daily basis. They basically have two seasons: cold and colder. I really liked Peru, but I love Scotland. I can feel this place in my bones, like I belong here. Just being here makes me feel healthier and happier, both mentally and physically.
The first day we do the usual touristy stuff. We go see the Falkirk Wheel that lifts the ferries in the canal, and visit the Edinburgh, Dunnottar, and Sterling Castles.
The next day we go to the royal gardens and then, the whole point of the trip, Loch Ness. Loch Ness is a giant lake that looks more like a still ocean. You can't see the other side even with binoculars. Only steamboats are allowed on the lochs to keep from polluting the water. Max and I ride one of the boats, a large white barge that reminds me of something out of a Mark Twain novel.
The wind on my face numbs my cheeks and I can't feel my fingers, but I love it. There aren't many people on the boat and we're alone on the deck. Max stands behind me, his arms around my waist, keeping the rest of me warm. He lays his chin on my shoulder.
"Do you see it?" he says.
"What?"
He points into the distance. "Over there." I strain my eyes, but all I see is a lump of wood floating on the surface. "It's Nessie."
I give him a playful jab in the stomach with my elbow and he makes an exaggerated "oomph" sound before laughing.
I watch the smooth gray surface, waiting for any kind of ripple or disturbance in the water. According the tour guide, this is where most of the sighting of Nessie have happened.
"I love being here with you," he says in my ear, kissing my earlobe. I lean into him, savoring the warmth of his breath on my cold skin. His thumb brushes the swell beneath my breasts. I'm not sure if he's aware of where his hands are since I have a bulky jacket on, but I'm as aware of his touch as much as I would be if I were naked. It sends chills up and down my arms. My body wakes up, forgetting about the cold.
I move my hips ever so slightly and he responds by pressing up against me.
"Maybe we should head back to our room after this," I tell him.
"What about Nessie?" he asks.
"Nessie has been around since 1933. I don't think he's going anywhere."
I feel the low rumble of his laughter and him getting hard as he presses against me.
As soon as the boat docks, we head back to the room. He doesn't waste any time stripping me out of my clothes. This isn't a romantic coupling like those we shared in the mountains of Peru. Right now we're feeding a craving that our bodies need, a primeval desire.
He's rougher than usual, yanking my clothes off with brute strength, ripping at my panties and tearing them in half. I'm so fucking turned on as he slaps my ass and pulls my hair. He uses what's left of my panties to tie my hands behind my back.
Whatever has gotten into him is wild and desperate and I'm loving every minute of it. As soon as we landed, I'd bought a bottle of lube-it definitely wasn't something I wanted to bring on the plane and have TSA question me about.
"Look in the bedside table," I tell him.
He opens the drawer and pulls out the bottle. "You might need that," I say. "Depending on what you're planning."
He has a certain laugh when he's excited that's different than his usual life. It's funny and adorable. "I like the way your mind works," he says.
We spend the next few hours having the best sex we've ever had together. For my part, it's the best sex I've ever had. I have a feeling it is with him too because when we're done, he's full of compliments and cuddles.
Afterwards we go to dinner at a traditional pub. Both of us are starving after the bedroom Olympics we just put ourselves through.
Max sips the foam off the top of his pint and licks the bubbly mustache it left behind with the tip of his tongue. The lighting is dim and makes him look mysterious and sexy. Why am I so turned on right now after everything we just did?
He asks, "What are your plans after you're done with the bucket list?"
That calms the flame. I look up at the TV in the corner of the pub above the bar. There's a soccer game playing-football as they call it in Europe.
"I don't know. I try not to think about it. I'm afraid once I finish the list, Kia will feel gone for real. Without her, I'm not certain of my future. She's such a huge part of my past that I don't know who I am without her."
He reaches across the table and grabs my hand. Holding it firmly in his. "We'll figure it out together."
"I love you-" I say, then stop abruptly when I realize the words that just spilled out of my mouth. I was thinking them, but hadn't meant to say them out loud. They just came out! Shit. I just told him I love him. I wasn't going to be the first to say it. I'm never the first to say it. The few serious boyfriends I've had have always been first. Even then I was reluctant to say it because it was never like this, whatever this is between me and Max. This is the first time I've truly felt love for someone who wasn't Kia or my family.
He looks as shocked as I feel, and part of me wishes I could take the words back and forget it ever happened. But it's too late now. Another part of me is glad I said them because it's how I feel and I'm getting sick of bottling up my emotions. I know from experience that they don't stay bottled for long and when they do decide to come out, it's at the worst times.
"You don't have to say anything-" I start to say, but he cuts me off.
"I love you too," he says.
I study his face, looking for truth. I don't see any twitches or signs that he's uncomfortable or lying.
"Don't say it if you don't mean it," I tell him. "You don't have to say it just because I did. That word is important to me."
"I love you," he says again.
My chin quivers. I don't know why I want to cry right now, but I do. I refuse to do it, though. He's had to deal with enough of my tears. "Good," I say.
He nods and kisses the top of my hand. "Now that that's settled, do you want dessert?"
"I would love some."
"You would love some?" With exaggerated movements, he puts his hand to his chest, his eyes wide and dramatic. "Are you saying that your feelings for me are the same as your feelings for dessert?"
I throw a beer nut at him because he's acting ridiculous and he's just so stinking cute when he's like that. I love that his personality runs the gamut. He can be goofy and funny, intense and seductive, loving and wonderful. I never feel like we're in a box and I have to act a certain way and be a certain way with him all the time.
"Yes," I say.
He bows his head. "I'm honored."
I laugh. "You should be because I fucking love dessert."
He chuckles, but his laughter soon dies down and he sighs. "I have to be honest with you about something."
My stomach drops. Those are scary words.
"Okay … " I say.
I wait for a bomb to drop, for him to tell me he has a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or a kid. It figures that some kind of secret will come out and burst my bubble just when I'm about to start putting my life back together after losing Kia.