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I didn’t consider how cold the nights get at this time of year when I was packing. I should have brought something warmer than a pair of yoga shorts and a T-shirt to sleep in.
I take a step toward the kitchen to get a glass of water when I hear a light tap on the front door. It’s the only door in and out of the cabin.
Fear grips me from the inside out.
I move fast, grasping in the dark for the baseball bat that my dad always kept hidden next to the bed.
He never needed it. The only people who stopped at the cabin were the neighbors. Their visits usually involved a campfire by the lake and cookies with mugs filled with hot chocolate or apple cider.
Another knock fills the silence.
I walk on shaking legs to the doorway of the bedroom. That gives me a clear line of sight to the door of the cabin, but it’s solid wood so I can’t see who is standing on the other side.
I inch closer, holding the bat in the air.
Another knock greets me.
I could pretend I’m not here, but that won’t scare away a would-be intruder, so I call out, “Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
I stumble forward. Keats is here? How?
“Maren, please let me in. Please.”
I move to the door and turn the rusted lock. When I swing the door open, I have to blink twice. “You’re here? You came all this way?”
He smiles. “I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, Maren. I love you.”***I stare at him with the moonlight falling on us. The sky is clear tonight. The air is perfectly crisp.
I took a step toward him when he said those three words.
Those three words.
I love you.
Keats loves me.
“Can we go inside?” He glances behind me at the open doorway of the cabin.
I look around. “How did you know where to find me? How did you get here?”
“Bianca,” he says her name quietly. “I ran into her in the lobby of your apartment building. She drew me a map, so I got my driver to bring me.”
I take that all in. Bianca wouldn’t have sent Keats to find me if she didn’t believe that it was the right thing to do.
She’s always protected me.
“I can drive.” Keats chuckles. “But, my hands have been shaking since I saw you tell me that you love me.”
I scrunch my brow. “What?”
“You were on my stoop the day we were supposed to host the Newmans for dinner.” He shakes his head. “The day I fucked up.”
“You swore,” I point out with a slight smile.
He nods. “My doorbell cam recorded you standing there, and I read your lips.”
“You read lips?”
His gaze stays on my face. “I do.”
I take a chance because isn’t that what life’s about? Aren’t we supposed to dive into the deep end and trust that good things are waiting for us when we surface?
“I love you,” I say silently without a sound escaping me.
He leans forward to rest his forehead against mine. “I love you too, Maren. I fucking love you.”Chapter 59Maren“I know about the baby, Maren.”
I absorb each of Keats’s words one-by-one. I don’t look at him. I hold onto the burst of pain that always courses through me when I think about the son I never got to see alive.
Taking a deep breath, I let go and reach for Keats’s hand.
He’s sitting next to me on the bed. He shed the hoodie he was wearing and his shoes and socks. He’s dressed only in jeans now.
His hair is a mess, and I can see something in his eyes I’ve never noticed before.
Peace, maybe. Or perhaps it’s hope.
I feel it too.
“I was going to name him Timmy after my dad.”
That was the plan. I hadn’t told my dad that before I miscarried. I’ve never mentioned it since.
We don’t discuss that loss.
“That’s a beautiful name.” Keats reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry about my text. It was thoughtless. I should have called you that night.”
I wrap my fingers around his. “You were upset about losing Fletcher as a client.”
Lifting my hand to his lips, he kisses my palm. “I was seething with jealousy because I saw you hugging a man in a diner.”
I exhale a breath slowly. “That was Royce.”
His eyes lock on mine. “I didn’t know that. All I saw was the woman I love more than anything wrapped in another man’s arms.”
“You thought I was…”
“Cheating?” he finishes my thought. “I thought he was a better man than I am. I was scared that I was losing you.”
“I don’t cheat,” I say clearly. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I’ve never done that to anyone.”
Leaning closer, he kisses my cheek. “I should have known that. I let my past dictate my actions. I was rude to you. It was wrong.”
