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“Is that right?” Summer laughs, looking like she just walked off a southern melodrama in her robe that’s billowing in the morning breeze, her hair loose and wild, her bare feet surrounded by a wispy blanket of snaking fog.
I run to her, scooping her up in my arms and spinning her around. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a baby,” she replies, laughing. “Now, put me down before I get dizzy.”
I do as I’m told, settling my hands on the curve of her waist, pulling her in for a slow, lazy kiss. “Any plans for today?” I ask, my heart full.
“I thought we could have some coffee in the garden, maybe some breakfast if I can find bread and eggs somewhere, then a few more hours in bed,” she replies, her blue eyes shining with mischief. “After that, I thought we might head into town to see Ms. T, who probably already consulted her crystal ball and knows what’s going on. Then, maybe, we can catch up with Lyndsey, Grace, and Oscar.”
My heart jumps. “Lyndsey?”
“They’re around until tomorrow, and I haven’t seen as much of them as I would’ve liked,” Summer explains, freezing up. “We don’t have to say anything about this, if you don’t want to. I know it’s early days and…” She trails off, and though she’s in my arms, I feel her slipping.
“Sounds good to me!” I say, a note too brightly. “If it comes up in conversation, it comes up.”
Summer nods, but I can tell she’s uncertain. “Sure. No pressure. We’re taking things slow, remember?”
“Exactly.” I kiss her again, relaxing as I feel her respond with the same enthusiasm as before. “Now, show me where your coffee is.”
I want to shout this from the rooftops, Summer.I urge my mouth to say so, but I can’t get the words out.I want to tell everyone that I’m head over heels for you, but I’m scared you’ll bolt if I do. So, you take the lead on this, and I’ll wait patiently, adoring you in silence until you say I can let the whole damn world know.
After all, the cottage is a bubble, and when it bursts and we go back to New Orleans, I can’t shake the fear that things might change. Not for me, but for her, putting us back at square one: the very last place that I want to be.
25
SUMMER
If this is a dream, let me sleep in a while. I’ve been waiting for a dream like this, to make up for all the nightmares.
Rowan built a nest, or that’s what he calls it, out on the back porch: a spread of couch cushions and blankets and pillows that’s surprisingly cozy, blurring the outside with the inside. The two of us lovebirds haven’t left it since this morning, safe in the nest—sipping coffee, watching the wildlife, reading passages from Ms. T’s books and exploring the plausibility of the dramatic love scenes. Turns out, with some dedication and gymnastic ability, they’re not so farfetched.
In the steamy heat of the afternoon, I wake up from a nap with his arms around me, his lips nuzzling my neck. I turn into him, melting into his body though it’s already an oven outside, and the warm breeze from the Gulf isn’t doing much to cool us down.
My mouth catches his, my leg sliding over his hip, pulling him closer. He smiles against my lips, his hands tingling my skin as he caresses my back and steals a mischievous squeeze of my backside. I laugh, completely at ease, completely familiar now with the humor and passion he brings to my bed, no matter where that bed might’ve been dragged to.
As our kiss deepens and the thermometer rises, the friction of our skin pushing the mercury to new heights, I hear the subtle rustle of a foil packet from a stash that, so far, has held out. And then, he’s inside me, and all feels right with the world; my shallow breaths mimicking the whisper of water on the shore, my moans echoing the hum of the bees suckling on nectar, his growls of pleasure rumbling like distant thunder, though there’s not a cloud in the sky. Today, the sun is smiling on us, and it’s heaven on Earth.
With a push, I roll him onto his back, bracing my hands against his upright knees as I sway to the rhythm of an ancient dance, passed down endlessly from the very first people on this planet to now. And as I move, spurred on by the sound of his bliss, I can’t say I’ve ever done this in a more beautiful place. It’s like the natural world has come out to celebrate my rebirth, the way that we humans celebrate Spring.
As his thumb strums his favorite tune, adding to the melody of us, it’s not long before I’m calling out, putting his name to the second life I’m starting. My limbs tremble, my lungs full, my stomach tight as the wave rushes through me, like the tide coursing along the Sound. But still, that cypress board, carved with my guilt and my past and my pain, stays down in the depths. Instead, there’s driftwood of new feelings, landing on the sand of who I am and who I want to be: hope, happiness, healing, possibility. Perhaps, one day, I can make them into something, carving a new story.
“Are you okay?” Rowan lifts his hand to my face, brushing something from my cheek.
“Hmm?”
“You’re crying.”
I blink in confusion. “Am I?”
“Did I hurt you?” He looks worried.
“Not at all.” I touch my cheeks and find he’s right; there are tears there. “That’s weird. I’m… not sad. Not even remotely.”
His expression relaxes. “Happy tears, then? I’ve got to say, that’s a new one for me.”
“Hey, no mocking.” I smack him lightly on the chest. “And no getting distracted. I’m not done with you.”
He grins and jokes with a salute. “Yes, Ma’am.”
