Page 91 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

I pull her arms around my chest. “We should do a family cook-off night.”

“I have no clue what that is, but it sounds fun.”

“Max really loves cooking, even just watching what someone’s doing. We could make an activity of it, you and me doing our own versions of the same meal. He gets to help and chooses the winner.”

“I love that.” She jumps off the rock and swims in front of me, treading water. “When did you get so into activity planning?”

I join her, switching to floating on my back, the sun hot on my face. “Not sure. Feels like it happened by accident. Or out of necessity, maybe. I was so determined to make the hiking program fun for Max. Make up for that shitty first effort.” Chasing my shadow games. Treating Max like a six-year-old.

“Well, it suits you. Like being in the wilderness. But so does wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase,” she adds brightly, “like you’ll be doing soon. You’re a chameleon.”

For the first time today, agitation edges my movements. Briefcase. School. The way Sadie keeps mentioning the man she hopes I’ll be. Unfortunately, when I think about Duke these days, all I think about is the time I’ll be missing with her and Max.

“Right now,” I say, splashing her lightly, “I’m just a man, swimming with the woman he can’t stop thinking about.”

She splashes me back, laughing as we float on our backs again, holding hands this time.

“When I’m with you,” she says quietly, “nothing else seems to matter. It’s like the rest of the world floats away.”

“Yeah. I feel that too.” When we avoid the topic of school, which reminds me of Sadie’s unresolved job offer. “Where are things at with the big gallery job?”

She gets quiet, a sudden frown marring her forehead. “Still the same back-and-forth—Sarah asking for things that don’t work for me. Which is fine. The website is doing well.”

Except she seems as bothered by the topic as I am about school, and I hate this for her. She deserves this chance and has the talent to pull it off. “I bet she’ll come around. Cave just to get you on board.”

Sadie doesn’t reply. Just stares up at the sky. I try to read her mind, figure out exactly what’s concerning her.

Abruptly, she points up at a cloud. “Congregation of a Dynasty.”

I smirk at the cloud she’s turning into a work of art. “I’ll need an explanation for that name.”

“It looks like a wolf howling at the moon, calling to his pack and bringing them together.”

I study the cloud. Try to see what she sees, but my interpretation isn’t quite so uplifting. “Or he just lost his loved ones and he’s roaring out his pain: Cry of the Last Wolf.”

My self-portrait, floating in the bright-blue sky.

Sadie tugs on my hand, guiding me back toward the rock until we’re standing on it, half in and half out of the water, her arms circling my waist. “You’re not alone now. Not anymore. You have me and Max.”

“I know, honey.” I stroke her wet hair. “I still have rough thoughts sometimes, bad dreams about losing you and Max. Then I wake up and realize everything’s different.”

Mostly different. There’s still a barrier between us she hasn’t lifted, subtle but there—moments where she gets quiet and seems lost in thought, like just before. Usually work related, but not always, and it doesn’t sit well.

I kiss the top of her head, get lost in the feel of her wrapped around me.

“I’m on the pill,” she whispers into my chest.

I go rigid. “Yeah . . .”

“And I’ve been tested.” She lifts her eyes to mine. “If you have been too, we don’t need to keep using condoms.”

It’s a good thing the lower half of my body is in the water, although my suddenly rigid cock might poke a fish in the eye. “I’ve been tested too,” I say roughly.

“Good.”

That’s all she says. Good. And jumps off the rock, dives down, then breaches the water’s surface in a graceful move. She swims toward the shore, giving me flirty eyes as she stands and sways her hot ass toward our towels.

I bite down on my cheek and slow my breaths, too turned on but also overwhelmed. The last time we thought the pill was infallible, Sadie got pregnant with Max. She doesn’t seem to care about our history, and I stay quiet. Fact is, if she gets pregnant again, I’ll be thrilled. If she forgets a pill or messes up the timing, and our inability to keep our hands off each other produces another child, I’ll get to be here when she learns she’s pregnant. Watch her belly grow. Be her anchor in the delivery room, hold my child the second they are born and witness all the firsts and seconds and thirds and everything I missed.