Page 58 of Fall Love

And Tate was absent.

But now, he’s so present. Present in more ways than I’d ever expect from anyone, which makes it all the more unsettling that it’s Tate’s. My unknown neighbor. My one-night stand.

And yet, it feels like Tate was never meant to be only one night of my life. For years, he’s been right here, around the corner, and I’ve simply missed him. Or he’s missed me.

Only, he isn’t missing anymore.

I tally up all he’s done for me like it’s a scorecard when this isn’t a game.

He surprised me with the car show. He took me to lunch. Heck, even before today, he took me apple picking and brought me pumpkin-flavored donuts and muffins. He pays attention to details, like my orange toes, which I wiggle as I sit on the swing, gently pressing my feet back and forth.

He’s done so much for me without asking for anything in return, and I don’t exactly know what to do with that. With the feelings he’s stirring inside me. The hope he’s igniting.

It’s strange to consider that in only a matter of days, Tate has become important to me.

The proof is in my reaction to the days he didn’t call me. I missed him. And the feeling is completely foreign to me.

All my emotions feel out of whack. Autumn should be a time for retiring, but everything is blooming inside me. Tate, being Tate, consistent, steady, uncomplicated, is planting thoughts in my head and my heart. Thoughts I don’t think I can ignore for much longer.

When Tate returns to the porch, he has two bottles of water between the fingers of one hand and a blanket draped over his shoulder.

“It can get breezy out here.” He sets the water bottles on a narrow table beside the swing and opens one, handing it to me.

I take a short sip while Tate sits beside me, draping the blanket over my belly.

“I thought some movie star owned this place,” I state.

“I rent it out long term. Movie stars. Musicians. A politician or two.” He grimaces like the last option didn’t please him. “I block off the weeks I want to be here.”

“Like New Year’s Eve,” I tease, bumping my arm against his.

“Visiting then was sort of last-minute. And the place was already rented, so I didn’t stay here. I stayed with Fisk.”

“Ah,” I reply, recalling how I dropped him off at his cousin’s home in the dark, cold hours of a new year.

He’d wanted to see me again, but I had plans with my sisters. Well, at least, Isolde.

“How could you get into your own place now? Didn’t you have a renter here?” I squint toward the calm ripple of water in the bay.

“I canceled a pending one for the next few months. I wanted to be here for you.”

I stare at the side of his face. His wavy hair blowing in the breeze. The scruff on his jaw a little thicker. There are wrinkles near his eyes when he squints. Then he glances at me.

“Here.” He shifts so he can swing one leg behind me. Then he moves me, so I sit with my side against his raised knee. His other foot rests on the floor, gently moving us back and forth. He sets my water bottle on the floor as well.

With my back to his front, he tucks the blanket over me again. I rest my head on his shoulder.

“You okay with this?” he softly asks behind me.

It’s nice. A position I’m afraid to get too comfortable in. I tell myself he’s only here until the baby is born. Just a few more weeks and then he’ll be gone. He’ll whisk away to the big city and forget all about Little Wrench and me.

But Tate must sense the tension in me, and he cups my shoulders, massaging over the long-sleeved shirt I’ve tucked into another pair of overalls.

At the doctor’s office, Tate was respectful, stepping out while I undressed and slipped into the unflattering paper gown. He held my hand during the exam, squeezing like he was just as anxious as I was, when all I kept thinking about was how I was naked underneath a thin barrier of paper. And he was right beside me.

He could have shredded the material. I wouldn’t have been opposed to him taking me. Feet in the air, those stirrups supporting me. I squirm at the thought.

Damn Dr. Julie and her orgasm suggestion.