Page 71 of The Summer of Us

She pulled away and turned in the water to look at me. Her curls were damp, tendrils falling down her neck and over her forehead. Her skin glistened pink and wet from the heat and water. She was beautiful but looked troubled, a V forming between her eyes. I rubbed my thumb over the crease. “Stop, Sunny. Stop questioning this.”

“How will this work, Linc? You pop down on the weekends, and I come visit once a month? We have enough sex to tide us over until the next time? Talk and text during the week?” She looked away. “Eventually, you’ll get tired of that.”

I was honest. “Yes, I would. Very quickly, in fact.” Her eyes flew to mine, wide and worried. “Which is why that isn’t going to happen, Sunny. I lost too much of my life with you already. It’s not happening.”

“My bakery—”

I held up a finger to her lips. “I know your bakery is important, Sunny. And for now, yes, I will be there with you as much as I can. We will talk and text every day. I won’t even address the ‘have enough sex to tide us over,’ because there will never be enough with you. But as the future becomes now, we’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t ever want to live in Mission Cove again.” It was a statement, not a question.

“It was never in my plans, no,” I admitted, running my knuckles down her cheek. “But I didn’t know you were there.”

“And now?”

“Now that I found you again, I’m not letting you go. Ever. So, whatever we have to do, we’ll decide it—together. Here. There. Somewhere in between. But it will be us, Sunny. Not a summer of us, but a lifetime of us. Understand?”

She regarded me in silence, then turned back in my arms and sank down in the water again. “Fine,” she huffed. “Bossy man.”

She pushed away a mound of foam.

“Possessive bastard,” she added, muttering under her breath.

I hauled her up my chest and bit her neck. “Damn right, I’m possessive. Don’t forget it.”

I heard her muffled giggle. I tightened my hold. “We’ll work it out, Sunny. Trust me.”

“I do.”

I liked those two words. I planned on her saying them again—in a totally different setting and with witnesses.

And soon.

* * *

I liked waking up with Sunny beside me. Even more, I liked being able to make love to her in the early dawn, listening to her low moans and feeling her clench around me as I took her from behind, holding her leg over my hip and slowly thrusting into her until she cried out my name. I followed not long after, with my face buried in her neck, her light scent filling my senses.

We showered, ate the biscuits she’d made the day before, then left for Mission Cove. On a whim, I took a detour, and we stopped at the old summer camp. The camp had closed and the land sold, but Gerry and Cindy retained a small piece of the property and still lived there.

I followed the road that led up to the old dining hall. Gerry and Cindy had converted it, and it now looked like a comfortable home.

I stepped out of the car as Gerry opened the front door, stepping out on the porch. He was older, his hair gray, but he still walked tall, his shoulders straight. He approached the edge of the porch.

“Can I help you?”

Sunny opened her door and she slid out. “Hi, Gerry.”

He beamed at her. “Hey, Sunny.” He indicated me. “Who’s your friend?”

I pulled off my sunglasses. “Hey, Gerry.”

His eyes widened. “Well, son of a bitch.” He hurried down the steps, shouting over his shoulder for his wife, then grabbing me in a bear hug. “Linc.”

Cindy came out the door. She hadn’t changed, although her hair was white and her face had a few more wrinkles. But her warm smile was the same, and her hug was firm.

They insisted we come in. Cindy bustled around getting coffee, Sunny offering to help her. Gerry showed me around, explaining how they’d remodeled the large building. “Cindy had knee surgery a while back, so we needed one floor. This is perfect for us.”

“It’s great, Gerry.”