The food arrived, and conversation shifted to lighter topics. But Mary couldn’t stop thinking about Bert’s words, about partners and facing complications and not running when things got hard.
Because that’s what terrified her most about what was developing between them. Not that Bert would be unable to handle her disability. She’d seen enough over the past year to know he didn’t see her wheelchair as a limitation. But that she might not be able to give him everything a relationship should include.
Mary hadn’t had sex since the accident… hell, even long before that. Casual sex had never been something she went after, and casting her mind back, she realized it had been a long time. And now… her body was different, and she wasn’t sure what worked anymore. She knew academically that she could still feel some pelvic sensation since the incomplete spinal cord injury had left some nerve function intact. But theory and practice were very different things. She hadn’t even tried to use her battery-operated boyfriend.
What if she couldn’t be what Bert wanted in that way? What if the physical intimacy that was part of any romantic relationship was beyond her capabilities now? Was it fair to start something with him when she didn’t know if she could follow through?
“You’re thinking too much,” Bert said quietly, leaning close enough that only she could hear. “I can see it in your face. Whatever you’re worrying about, we’ll figure it out together.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking about.”
“I know it’s scaring you. I know you’re building walls even as we’re tearing them down.” His hand squeezed hers. “Don’t, Mary. Don’t push me away because you’re afraid.”
“I’m not?—”
“You are. And I understand why. But I need you to trust that I’m here because I want to be. Not despite your circumstances, but including them. All of you, Mary. That’s what I want.”
She wanted to believe him, but the fear was there, insistent and cold, reminding her of all the ways this could go wrong.
The afternoon portion of the tour took them to a nearby tidal pool area, accessible via a carefully maintained boardwalk. The guide explained the ecosystem while they observed various marine creatures in the pools… sea stars, crabs, anemones, and small fish trapped by the receding tide.
Mary had always loved this kind of hands-on, natural education, and she became genuinely engaged despite her swirling thoughts. Bert stayed close, pointing things out, sharing her enthusiasm in a way that made her heart ache.
This was what she’d dreamed about without admitting it. Someone who shared her interests, who enjoyed quiet moments of discovery, who could be comfortable in silence while still being fully present. Someone who made her feel seen and valued and wanted.
She glanced at Diane and Colin. The older woman was exclaiming over something in a tidal pool, her enthusiasm seeming genuine for the first time that day. Colin smiled indulgently, but Mary caught the way his eyes tracked everyone else in their group.
George had wandered closer to Diane, and the two of them discussed the sea stars with animated interest. Colin’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. She was reminded of why they were there. This wasn’t an engagement celebration but a cover. And while they had expressed the desire to become more than friends, they still needed to keep their minds on the assignment.
Bert’s hand on her shoulder grounded her, reminding her that she wasn’t alone in this. They were a team. They’d figure it out together.
The van ride back to the ship was quieter, as passengers were tired from the day’s activities. Mary leaned her head against Bert’s shoulder, gathering warmth from their closeness. With all the time they’d spent getting to know each other, their position felt natural.
“Thank you for coming,” she said quietly. “I know this is complicated and messy and not what you signed up for when you got on that plane.”
“I signed up for you,” Bert replied, his lips brushing her temple. “Everything else is just details.”
Back on the ship, they had a few hours before dinner. Mary suggested they retreat to their stateroom, and he eagerly agreed. It was ostensibly to rest, but she wanted to know what was going through his mind.
The moment the door closed behind them, Mary rolled to position her wheelchair near the sliding glass door overlooking the water. “We need to talk,” she said. Dragging in a ragged breath, she let it out slowly, then continued. “Really talk. About what’s happening between us and what it means going forward.”
Bert settled on the bed, his expression open. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
She was glad he was willing to talk and not just sweep everything under the rug. “I need you to understand something.” Mary’s hands twisted in her lap, and he reached over to place his hand over hers, stilling her nervous movements. Clearing her throat, she continued, “About me. About my limitations. About what I can and can’t offer in a relationship.”
“Mary—” His face showed concern as he reached for her hands.
“Please let me finish.” She took a breath as though gathering courage. “I haven’t been with anyone since the accident. And honestly, not for a while before that. And it’s not just because I’ve been focused on recovery and work. It’s because I don’t know what works anymore. I know that I have some sensation… down there, and that the nerve damage wasn’t complete. But I don’t know what that means in practice. I don’t know if I can be everything you’d want or need in that way.”
Bert’s expression softened with understanding. “You’re worried about sex.”
“I’m worried about disappointing you,” Mary corrected. “I’m worried that you’re signing up for something thinking it includes everything a normal relationship would, and then finding out I can’t deliver.”
“First of all, there’s no such thing as a normal relationship,” Bert said firmly. “Every couple has to figure out what works for them. What brings them pleasure, what creates intimacy, what makes them feel connected. That’s not something you fail at, Mary. It’s something you discover together.”
“But what if?—”
“What if nothing.” Bert moved to kneel in front of her wheelchair. “Mary, I want you. All of you. Whatever that looks like, whatever we discover together, that’s what I want. Not some theoretical perfect version that doesn’t exist anyway. You. Exactly as you are.”