“Claire, listen to me. I don't know what he told you, but that's not his boat. He stole it from the house, just broke in and sailed it right out into the open sea!”
“Mom, please. He didn't break into anything at all – it's not like the thing was even locked up. We both promise to bring it back in one piece. He knows how to handle it. And don't worry, we're not heading anywhere crazy. I'm looking at the coast right now. It's never out of sight.”
I count ten seconds of nothing. I'm starting to believe maybe Mom won't have a shitfit over it, maybe she's more open minded than I ever believed.
“God damn it, Claire!” Her voice is so loud I need to jerk the phone away from my aching ear. “Don't do this to me. Just don't.”
“I'm not doing this to you. It's all for me. I need the time and space to clear my head, Mom. Stop worrying. I know it's sudden, but nothing crazy's going to happen.”
Another slow building explosion. I wait for it, seriously tempted to open one of the windows and chuck my phone into the water.
“You're ruining everything, honey! Everything! And you're wrecking yourself too,” she adds hastily.
You're ruining my Senate bid is all I hear. My lips tighten.
“You've got to come home, Claire. Please. Just tell him to turn the ship around and come home now. I'll talk to Gary, make sure the consequences aren't too serious. I'll do it for both of you.”
Oh. So we're going to be treated like common thieves? Christ. Maybe what Ty said about the Coast Guard barging in and dragging us home in handcuffs wasn't so far off.
“The only one ruining anything is you and your controlling, greedy freak of a husband. You two deserve each other. Goodbye, Mom.”
I swipe the call angrily to end it and then shut the damned thing down. I probably won't be needing it where we're going.
I dress and wash up, then head outside, racing toward the bridge. Ty mans everything with rock music piping through the satellite radio, humming along with it. I walk up quietly behind him and throw my arms around his rock hard waist.
God, those muscles are tight. I'll never get tired of holding them. He's like my own personal mountain, mine as much as he calls me his.#p#分页标题#e#
He doesn't even flinch. It's like he's been expecting it. He smiles, gives me a good morning kiss, and pulls me closer.
“Everything all right, babe?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, and I'm not exaggerating. I feel it. “Everything's just fine.”
The next few weeks are heaven. Ten days zip by in a blur, and then a few more. Before I know it, we're docked in Lincoln City for the Fourth, watching as the fireworks explode above the little seaside resort town I've always loved.
It's like coming home. It's one of the few places where Mom and I went on trips before she went Congress crazy.
She's tried to call about a thousand times since I shut her off. I only check my phone once a day, and I don't listen to the voicemails anymore.
There's nothing new in them after the first ten. Nothing but threats and stern warnings, pleas and selfish whimpering. She isn't worried about me coming home safe. It's all about her career, and it hurts to see how deep she's been bitten by the same greedy bug perched on Gary's shoulder.
The woman who raised me and bought us ice cream in the town we're spending our holiday in is all gone. I barely recognize the woman I call Mom now, the woman who married a bastard of a billionaire for convenience.
She's not my youthful, vibrant, Lincoln City loving Mom anymore. I can't be her pawn.
Now, I'm hoping I can build some new memories here with Ty. Luckily, Independence Day has gotten things off to a good start.
Before the fireworks, we walked along the warm, sleepy beach. The sun glowed high and we ran barefoot, hand in hand, finding a few nice private spots not touched by the holiday throngs. Money and GPS can go a long way.
We hit a restaurant with an amazing wine bar for dinner, and then I insisted on buying him ice cream. Ty snuck away for a few minutes while we were at the ice cream shop. I swear I saw him run across the street to one of the little boutiques, and now I'm wondering what he's got up his sleeve.
The only thing we didn't like were all the tourist cameras. One sneaky photo with the right tag online could blow our identities wide open. Then Gary and Mom will really have a good reason to come after us if we hand them a real scandal, wrapped up in a pretty neat bow.
We're sitting out on the boat's main deck. Bright, orange contrails rocket up and explode magnificently into red, white, and blue, plus a sprinkling of almost every other color too.
It's beautiful.
“I've got good news and bad news, babe,” he says, squeezing the arm he's got around my shoulder tight. “Take your pick.”