He looked back out to the river and watched the sun glimmer across the Charles with poetic glory, all golden sparkles over gentle waves. On the far side of the water was Harvard, that mountain of red brick and wrought-iron fencing. His eyes shifted up to the bright-blue dome that marked the horizon.
“I liked school and I was good at it,” he said for no particular reason. “I liked reading and studying. Liked to see my report cards. Liked to be at the top of my class. In high school, I would have graduated valedictorian, but I got arrested for stealing a car my junior year and that took me out of the running no matter how high my GPA was. Yeah…school was all I had really, growing up. The only constant.”
When there was no response, he glanced down. Lizzie was sleeping soundly, her eyelids flickering a little as if she were dreaming.
He told himself it was just as well. Didn’t quite believe it.
Taking a page from Lizzie’s book, he lay all the way down and rested his head on the back of his forearm. As a sailboat bobbed by right in front of them, he had some dim thought that he hadn’t had a vacation in…ever? How was that possible?
Surely he’d taken a week. A long weekend. Something.
Good God, no, he hadn’t. He’d worked through his college vacations as a member of the grounds crew to make extra money. Then in the years that had followed, he’d been too busy getting an MBA and making a name for himself. Now, any traveling he did was for business: captive insurance meetings in the Bahamas or the Caymans, trips to Tokyo and London and Hamburg and South America, financial summits in Switzerland. And as for the triathalons he entered? That was still all about competing and winning, not recreation.
Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something like this…. Just sat on the grass and let his thoughts drift with the breeze.
“Heads up!” someone hollered.
Sean glanced to the right and saw a Frisbee flying through the air, heading straight for Lizzie.
***
Lizzie heard a curse and then felt herself get covered by the weight of Sean’s body. As her eyes flipped open, she saw him deftly catch a Frisbee…that would have hit her right in the face.
“Sorry, man!” a guy said as he ran over. “Everyone okay?”
Sean balanced his upper body on one arm as he reached up to give the thing back. “Yeah. Watch it though.”
“We will,” the guy promised. “Hey, great save, by the way. Wanna play?”
The light that came into Sean’s eyes made Lizzie smile. “Go ahead,” she said. “I’m sure you’re terrific at it.”
The guy with the Frisbee looked at her. “And you’re welcome, too.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather be on blanket patrol.”
“You don’t mind?” Sean asked her with a frown.
“Not at all.”
“Okay. I won’t be long, though.” He kissed her quick and leaped to his feet. In a smooth move, he took off his shirt and let it fall to the blanket. “Don’t want to get this sweated out in case we head off to dinner.”
Sean jogged over with the guy and shook hands with the other players. On the bright green grass, he fit in perfectly with them, one more strong set of shoulders, one more defined chest. The bunch of them went at it hard, until there were three disks going at once between five guys. Sean was amazing, all lithe power and razor instincts, his big body moving with elegant speed, his loose jeans hanging low on his hips, his gold cross bouncing against his chest as he ran around.
Those red and yellow Frisbees went faster and faster and the guys got more outrageous. Eventually, Sean went for a flying catch, springing up into the air and going horizontal to the ground—right as another guy came from the opposite direction. The two collided and fell hard.
Lizzie started to scramble to her feet…but they were fine as they rolled onto their backs and laughed. As she took a deep breath, Sean flashed her a thumbs-up then stood and went back into the fray.
While the horsing around went on, she felt as if she were playing with him even though she was on the blanket. Every few minutes or so, he would look over at her and wave. Or wink. Or he’d deliberately run by and do some wild catch around his back or pull off a crazy, convoluted toss.
He was showing off. For her.
Which was pretty darned charming.
By the time he came back to the blanket forty-five minutes later, he was breathing hard and a sheen of sweat covered his smooth skin.
“That was great,” he said. “Thanks.” He sat down, putting his forearms on his knees to air himself out as he regained his breath.