“Yes. But Calvin… I need you to understand. I have Ella. She’s my priority. Always. And I’m not looking for casual. I can’t do casual, not with her watching, not with?—”
“Georgia.” I cut her off gently. “I’m not interested in casual either. I don’t know exactly what this is yet, but I know it matters.Youmatter.”
She studies my face for a long moment, then nods. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.” She stands, taking my hand.
With her free hand, she grabs the baby monitor, and we slip out of the documentation tent into the cool night. The camp is dark except for a few lanterns left burning for safety. Everyone else has gone to bed.
We move quietly toward my tent, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of sneaking around like teenagers. At the entrance, Georgia pauses.
“This is really happening?”
“Only if you want it to.” I squeeze her hand. “No pressure, Georgia. We can just talk if you prefer. Or go back to reviewing pottery fragments.”
She laughs softly. “I definitely do not want to review pottery fragments right now.”
“No?”
“No.” She rises on her tiptoes to kiss me. “I want you.”
The words send heat flooding through me. “Then come inside.”
We step into my tent, and I secure the entrance behind us. The space is small, intimate. My cot takes up most of the room, with a small desk and camping chair in the corner.
Georgia looks around, then back at me. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I pull her close. “Having second thoughts?”
“Calvin,” she breathes. “Stop talking and kiss me.”
So, I do.
CHAPTER 18
CALVIN
The next two weeks are mostly the same, and yet each day stands out as marvelous.
During the day, I’m with Ella. We’ve developed routines now. Playtime in the morning when it’s coolest; word practice and coloring after her snack; quiet time in the shade during the worst heat, where I read to her from books Georgia packed.
“Cav-cav, dat!” she’ll say, showing me a rock or stick or handful of sand like it’s the most precious treasure in the world.
And I look. Every single time. Because somehow, in the past month, this tiny human has wormed her way into my heart.
At night, after Ella is asleep and the camp has quieted, Georgia and I find each other. Sometimes in the documentation tent, supposedly working but mostly just talking. Sometimes in my tent, where we’ve gotten better at fitting two people onto a cot designed for one.
We’re careful. Discreet. No one has said anything directly, though I catch knowing looks from Edmond and raisedeyebrows from Dr. Akkhad. Omar probably has a running commentary in his head, but to his credit, he keeps it to himself.
And slowly, something I never expected begins to happen.
I start imagining a future. Not just the project completing, not just the excavation succeeding. But after. What comes next.
Georgia and Ella back in their Maine cottage, but maybe I’m there too. Not just visiting for quick weekends, but staying for longer periods, whenever I can get away from work and the city. Waking up to Ella’s morning demands and Georgia’s sleepy smile. Making breakfast together. Being… a family.
For years, I’ve avoided exactly this kind of commitment. Convinced myself I’m not built for it, that my father trained the capacity for normal relationships right out of me. But with Georgia and Ella, it doesn’t feel like a trap. It feels like coming home.
