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A chance I don’t intend to let go of.
Once in the kitchen, I see her hugging her elbows and shifting on her feet like she’s unsure.
“I wish I knew what to say, Evelyn,” I tell her. “Wish I knew I could tell you how much you mean to me, even though we only just-”
I can feel my emotions rising, my feelings getting the better of me.
Sounding more like a lunatic than someone who’s only searching for three words.
Too scared to tell her in case it scares her off for good.
She turns quietly to set some coffee brewing, my hand reaching for her before I decide to pull it back.
“I… I…” I stammer, sounding like a moron instead of a man who knows what he wants and has come to claim it.
She’s just so perfect.
So beautiful.
I can’t even think what my life would be like if she suddenly wasn’t in it. But before I can make an even bigger fool of myself, she helps me out.
Offering me two words in place of the three I feel on my lips.
“Where’s Bermuda?” she asks, turning with a half-smile, sniffing back some more tears before I feel her in my arms again.
“It’s just an island,” I explain, suddenly feeling my hands in her hair, running down her back and over as much of her as I can manage in a few seconds as we embrace.
“We don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to either,” I remind her.
Reminding myself not to rush things with her, and even with her dad.
“Bermuda sounds nice,” she purrs. “But maybe just for a little while. Until dad gets better?” she says, looking up at me with a small smile.
A smile I bring closer to mine before I kiss it like I’ve never kissed her before, lifting her up until she squeaks.
Her whole body pressed against me.
Mine again.
Chapter Thirteen
Evelyn
What’s upset me isn’t that Mark would keep anything from me.
His history with my dad is his own business, I tell myself on the drive home after I take a deep breath and actually start to calm down.
The pressures of the past day finally catching up with me is what pushes me to the point I lash out at Mark.
As if he’s done anything wrong except save my dad’s life and give me the greatest night of my life so far.
And didn’t he say something about taking care of the hospital bill himself?
I feel nothing but relief when I hear him at the door, hoping it really is him, my heart leaping once I see his car parked outside across the street.
He must’ve followed me straight here from the hospital.
I want to know more about Bermuda though.
Want to know if Mark’s serious about actually taking me someplace for a few days.
Someplace special I know where I could give myself to him a hundred percent, because I know that’s what we both want.
And god knows, the longer I’m in his arms, the more I feel like I need it.
Dad’s in the hospital and will be for a while yet. And if he’s going to pop a valve every time he sees Mark, maybe it is better to leave him to recover, just for a few days before anything else, it’s not like I can help him recover faster. At the hospital, he has all the care I can’t give him.
I’ve never traveled further than a few miles from home for what feels like my whole life.
I got a passport a year ago but didn’t tell my dad.
Didn’t want him getting upset with me, asking me what the point of that would be.
Mark seems more interested in checking out some of my dad’s photos though, which is a little bit odd.
“You mind if I just take a look?” he asks, walking back into the hall and plucking one from the wall, dismantling the frame before I can even ask why.
I have to admit, my curiosity gets the better of me and by the time I hear Mark having his “aha!” moment, I know I’m hooked.
“What is it?” I ask him, struggling to crane my neck past his huge body as he turns away for a second, unfolding the photograph.
“He didn’t cut me out,” he adds with a tone of surprise.
“I thought he would’ve cut me out after what happened.
I have no idea what he’s talking about until he passes me the folded photograph I must’ve walked past ten thousand times before I even knew who Dr. Mark Love was.
Before I even would have thought the photo was folded to keep him out of the picture.
The fold is deeply creased and probably about as old as I am, but there’s no mistaking the two people.
The faded half is my dad, proudly holding up a fish in front of an unfamiliar lake.
The recently uncovered part is definitely Mark. His arm around my dad’s shoulder, but neatly folded out of view until just now.
