Presley and I take turns with the kids, but we’re together as a team most of the time. We chase them through the shallows. I teach Remy how to throw a spiral in wet sand. We watch Rhyan collect seashells and assign each one a rank to guard the dragon fortresses.
We spend our nights exhausted, but we don’t miss sitting near the firepit, eating s’mores. Well, they eat them. I’m in training mode, eating clean.
The kids are inside with her parents, watching a movie in what Rhyan calls “the fancy couch.” Sera fell asleep before the movie even started. And Remy is determined to stay away until the end credits.
Presley and I make our way down to the beach alone. The air smells like salt, and I can still smell the burnt wood from the firepit.
Presley’s walking beside me barefoot, sandals dangling from one hand, her hair loose around her shoulders.
My wife.
We stop near the waterline, waves rolling in soft and steady.
“This has been so good for them,” she says.
“Yeah, it really has.”
“I think it’s been good for you too, Saint.”
I look at her. “You think so?”
“Oh yeah.” She nods. “You need to let your body have this downtime because pretty soon, it’ll be put to the test week after week, and I’m still cautious about that knee. I know you made it through last season without issue, but it’s still something we need to watch.”
“So, good for me for training purposes only?” I tease.
She smiles, bumping my shoulder. “Well, no. You look lighter too.”
I shift my head back and forth. “Yeah, I think I feel lighter.”
I look out at the water.
“I keep waiting to feel guilty about it,” I admit.
“Guilty about?”
“Being happy.”
She doesn’t answer right away, but reaches for my hand. “Saint, it doesn’t mean you miss her any less.”
I close my eyes. “I know.”
“It just means you’re living. And she would want that—for all of you.”
A wave sweeps over our feet. It’s cold, but also grounding.
I squeeze her hand. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Any updates on the foundation? You had some meetings again the other day, right?”
Her face changes. It’s a spark of something like hope.
“Yes, and I’ll be meeting with the trust attorneys next week,” she says. “I should be able to start moving funds soon to set up the nonprofit structure and planning programs.”
“You already have programs planned.”
She glances at me. “Yeah, a few.”
