Page 147 of Seale the Deal

Only with you, babe.

Holding her close, I carry her into the living room toward the couch. Outside, the October darkness presses against the windows, and tomorrow waits with all of its unanswered questions. But tonight isn’t about decisions or careers or wedding plans. It’s about the woman in my arms and feeling that no matter what happens next, every moment we share together will mean something.

The next day, we park in front of the Cultural Center and wait for Remi. It’s a modern building on a manicured lot with a totem pole rising from the centre of the lawn like a sentinel. Wrenley’s sitting in the passenger seat, looking down at her hands.

Last night was amazing, but it didn’t solve anything. We are still standing at a crossroads, but it hasn’t been brought up again after our conversation in the kitchen. There didn’t seem to be much point. If Wrenley knew what she wanted to do, she would’ve told me. And the last thing I want is for her to feel like I’m hovering over her shoulder, waiting for an answer.

So instead, we carried on.

We slept in the same bed and kissed good morning when we woke up. We went downstairs together, and I made coffee while she toasted bagels for us. Everything is the same.

And also not.

There’s a tension between us now that comes from knowing a storm is sitting just beyond the horizon. We don’t know exactly when it’s going to arrive or what it’s going to change, so for now, we’re both pretending we can enjoy the sunshine a little longer.

Remi’s grey truck pulls into the parking lot, and we get out to meet her.

Wrenley slips her hand into mine as we talk toward the front door, and I lace our fingers together.

Morning, Remi says when we reach her.

Her smile is tight, and there’s a hint of sympathy in her eyes when she looks at me. I know Wrenley must have told her about the job offer.

Morning, Wrenley says back.

Morning.

The three of us stand there for several seconds, which is about three seconds longer than people who know each other this well should ever stand in silence.

Okay, this is awkward, Remi finally says.

I told him, Wrenley says, confirming what I already figured out.

And? Remi’s gaze bounces between us.

Nothing’s been decided, I say

Wrenley nods beside me.

If anything, she looks worse than she did yesterday, and it’s eating at me. She keeps carrying the weight of the entire situation on her shoulders. Like she believes every hour she spends not making a decision is somehow letting all of us down.

But it’s not true.

Nobody here is expecting her to have her entire future figured out at the snap of a finger. Judging by the expression on her face, she hasn’t gotten that message.

We should probably go in, Wrenley says finally.

We walk into the Cultural Center, which is probably the most beautiful building in Alpine Harbor. Cedar beams stretch toward the ceiling like open arms, every wall in the vaulted space filled with photographs, artwork, and displays detailing the history and traditions of the Sugpiaq people. Another towering totem stands proudly in the centre, and I can’t help staring at the colour and sharp lines of each figure carved in wood. Wrenley drifts toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean and jagged mountains beyond, her hand still linked with mine, dragging me like a tail trails a kite.

Remi!

I look up to the catwalk that overlooks the lobby. A man our age leans against the railing, his dark hair pulled into a long braid that hangs over one shoulder. His brown skin and strong features are the same as they were in high school, only with a few more age lines.

Hey, Drew! Remi calls back. Meet you up there?

He nods.

We climb the floating stairs, the sunlight streaming through on either side painting the air in gold. The lofted hallways smell of the cedar ceiling.