“Sure, that would be great.”
“A margarita?” he asked, moving toward the kitchen. I reluctantly let him go.
“Sounds perfect,” I answered honestly. Maybe tequila would dull the sharp edge of what I knew was coming too soon.
Outside the night air was a touch cool, a light breeze rustling the dry palm fronds with a raspy clatter. I lay back in one of the loungers by the pool, enjoying the mild night. I was bone-tired after a day of chasing the girls and trying to keep one step ahead in this new life. Parenting was unbelievably exhausting. Now I understood the moms who came into the diner with their messy buns and lightly stained shirts and weary eyes. Being a mother was far harder than running the diner, no question. My hat was off to all parents everywhere. Every parent deserved a medal just for sheer survival. How did they do it? I yawned as Rory appeared with a lowball and a wide-mouthed margarita glass in his hands. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of green board shorts.
“Here, babe.”
I relieved him of the margarita and took a sip. It was so cold and puckeringly sweet and sour, and he’d even done a salty rim. “Mmmm. Thank you.”
He sank back into the lounger next to mine, kicking off his shoesand taking a gulp of what looked like bourbon and Coke. His drink still hadn’t changed, I noticed.
“Ah, there it is.” He sighed, visibly relaxing. It was twilight, the evening sinking into shadows. The pool gleamed a brilliant blue, lights from the tiled walls illuminating it so it looked glamorous and inviting. The yard was large but a little scrubby, lined with palm trees and a tall fence. Everything we owned spoke of an upper-middle-class family, not of outrageous wealth but of comfort.
We talked for a few minutes about his day, the players, his differences of opinion with the coach. I shared a few funny things the girls had said and done. After a few minutes we lapsed into silence. I lay on the lounger, aware of the minutes ticking away, dreading what I knew was coming. So soon, this would all be gone. So soon, it would only be a memory. I desperately craved more—more time, more Rory, more to carry with me when I left.
“Do you think we’re happy in our life here?” I asked, taking a sip of my margarita. It was a question I’d been wondering about all day.
Rory looked at me in surprise. “Are we happy? Sure. I mean, I think so. We’ve got our share of stuff. My dad’s prostate cancer diagnosis was hard this year. I know you don’t love Florida, and we miss being closer to our families, the usual stuff everyone deals with, I guess. I don’t always see eye to eye with Coach, but we’ve got two beautiful, healthy girls. I love a lot of parts of my job. Your business is doing well and expanding locations, which is great. And we still can’t keep our hands off each other. Yeah, I’d say we’re happy. Why?” He peered at my face as though suddenly unsure.
“Just checking.” I took another sip of the margarita.
“Are you happy?” He swirled his drink around in the glass, watching me curiously.
“Right here, right now? Absolutely. I just wish it weren’t going so fast,” I said wistfully.
“Tell me about it,” he agreed. “How do we have a kid in school already? Next thing you know we’ll be old and gray, living out our golden years in a retirement community in Palm Beach, where we drive a golf cart to shuffleboard.”
“Sounds pretty perfect to me.” I gave a little laugh, but I was serious. Growing old with Rory—nothing sounded better.
Rory stood, set his glass down, then came over to me. He sat down on the edge of my lounger, his expression serious as he gazed at me. “I don’t take you for granted, Lolly, or our life together. I hope you know that. I’m grateful every day for you and the girls, for what we have. It’s a gift, one I don’t take lightly.” He reached out and smoothed his hand over my hair, tracing the line of my jaw. “I love you, Lolly Blanchard Shaw. Since the moment I first saw you.”
I looked away, blinking back sudden tears at the raw honesty in his voice.
“I love you too,” I said thickly. “I always have and I always will.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my forehead. “I’m going to take a quick dip and head for bed. I’ve got an early appointment tomorrow. That kid who messed up his knee probably needs surgery.” He rose, then paused at the edge of the pool, the planes of his shoulder blades illuminated in the reflected pool lights. I drank him in, cementing the image of him in my mind. He dove into the water cleanly and swam to the other side of the pool, turning and coming back, swimming laps over and over, his motions smooth and focused. He’d always been a strong swimmer.
I watched the coil of muscles in his arms as he sliced through the water, the gleam of water droplets streaming from his hair as he raised his head for a quick gulp of air. I sat there as the minutes ticked by, as darkness crept fully over the sky, listening to the quiet splash of Rory in the pool, the cacophony of night insects around me. The margarita grew warm in my hand, and my head felt a little fuzzy and light fromthe tequila. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
Almost on impulse I rose, set my glass by the lounger, slipped off my flip-flops and glasses, and jumped feetfirst into the deep end of the pool, still wearing my sundress. The water was shocking, cool and silvery against my skin as I came up for a breath of air. Rory was at the opposite end of the pool from me when I blinked the chlorine from my eyes, treading water in my sodden yellow sundress.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” he called, grinning.
I grinned back. “Looking for trouble,” I answered cheekily.
He dove under the water, sleek and graceful as a seal. I lay back and splayed my arms and legs, resting gently under the velvet night sky. Time felt suspended, the night a little surreal although my every sense was heightened. I floated as though boneless, relaxing into the moment, the night, the spell of what might have been. I knew given half a chance I would stay here like this forever. Not a single speck of me wanted to leave. I turned my head as Rory popped up next to me.
“Looks like trouble just found you,” he said with a wicked grin.
He slipped his arms around me and I bobbed upright in the water, facing him, wrapping my legs around his waist. He kissed me, a quick peck on the lips. I tightened my hold. He stilled, studying my face for a moment, then pulled me close, threading his fingers in my wet hair and kissing me deeper than before, with a hunger, an intensity. His tongue was in my mouth and he pulled me against him, clasping me with one strong arm. He took a few slow steps until my back bumped against the pool wall. All that was between us was a sodden sundress and a pair of swim trunks. I didn’t think about tomorrow, about the desolation of waking up in a lonely twin bed. I didn’t think about the fact that this would undoubtedly be the last time I ever in my life kissed Rory Shaw. Instead I splayed my hands across his bare back andpressed my mouth against his and stopped thinking about anything else at all. He felt so familiar, so familiar and so very right.
He slipped one strap from my shoulder, dipping his head and pressing a series of kisses down my shoulder blade. His other hand started working the buttons on the front of my sundress. His breath was hot against my collarbone, and he nipped at the nape of my neck with his teeth. I yipped and he chuckled low in his throat, pushing me firmly against the side of the pool and pressing against me. I wanted him, wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. It would be so easy to simply give myself to him, this man I’d loved forever.
But suddenly I saw us, entwined in the muggy night, and I caught a glimpse of his other life, a different gold wedding band on his finger, sealing him to a woman who was not me, the glint of blond hair on the pillow next to him, his real wife. I stopped short at the image, the reality. Emily. Remembering her doused my ardor like a bucket of cold water.
I slipped sideways out of his embrace, giving him a quick peck on the lips, then slid my strap back up, hating every second of letting him go. But I couldn’t be the other woman, not even in this alternate life. He was not mine for real, no matter what I might wish for.
