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“Eddie, it’s your turn to weed whack!” I shouted after the two husbands, following my daughter’s wet footprints from where she’d launched out of the pool and sprinted around the garden in an attempt to fly.
She was so sure she could fly after I’d shown her videos of exocoetidae, also known as flying fish, on YouTube. I was determined that just because I’d never returned to school didn’t mean she wouldn’t be a marine biologist if she wished to be.
She might look like Aslan and share his serious scowls, but she was me in every other way. I could barely keep her out of the water. I should’ve called her after the sea instead of the moon because she was adamant she was part fish and had stuck a painting on the fridge of a bubble pod last week, claiming it was her new room in Lunamare—if we ever built it.
Over five years and nothing to show for it.
We had a prototype we believed could work.
We’d solved the lack of sunlight issue, the foundation and anchoring issue, and tried to foresee as many complications with storms, sea-levels rising, and did our best to integrate with the environment rather than disturb it.
But...that was as far as we’d got.
Fundraising could only raise so much.
We’d exhausted all our own funds.
If we didn’t get a decent cash flow soon, all three of us would have to find other employment. And that killed me because...I’d already had to say goodbye to one dream. I’d lost the most important person in my life. I didn’t think I’d survive losing the vague but hopeful belief that one day I could live beneath the waves and find a smidgen of healing for my broken heart.
Enough, remember?
You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore.
Sighing and pushing away my sadness, I broke into a jog to chase after my wayward daughter. My heart twinged just a little, toying with me. The strange palpitations had faded recently, and I hadn’t taken up the cardiologist on his offer of a follow-up appointment.
I fully believed the skips were caused by my inability to let go, and I hoped, with time, they would eventually stop taunting me.
Ever since I’d kneeled on the beach three months ago and finally said goodbye to Aslan, I’d done my best to move on.
I knew I would never find another love.
I had absolutely zero interest in entering the dating scene and had to have a strongly worded conversation with Teddy and Eddie one night when they tried to set me up with one of their straight friends.
I was done with that part of my life.
I would never be touched again, kissed again and...that’s okay. I’d slept with Aslan enough to have a decent rolodex of memories to use if the urge to climax appeared at two in the morning. Then again, my body was exactly like my heart and no longer had any interest in being touched. Apart from platonic hugs from Teddy and Eddie, and the special squishes from Ayla, I didn’t really touch anyone.
“RAWWWWR!”
I rolled my eyes at Teddy’s impersonation of whatever beast he was supposed to be tonight. He was particularly good at winding her up just before bedtime.
But...I couldn’t stop their fun.
Who cared if Ayla’s bedtime was all over the place? Who cared if she swam at six, seven, or eight p.m.? Who cared if she was on the beach when other five-year-olds were tucked up in bed and dreaming? She was wild, and I loved it. It’s the only way to live in the moment. And the moment is all she has.
I laughed and ignored the wince in my heart as Teddy scooped her up and tossed her to Eddie. Ayla’s little limbs went flailing, giggling as the two men tossed her around like a rugby ball.
I’d had a panic attack when they first threw her around as a baby, but she loved it above everything else. She begged for more the moment they finished, and I’d grown used to seeing her flying through the lounge and hucked into the kitchen, caught by strong, careful arms and showered with affectionate kisses.
I trusted them.
She trusted them.
We all trusted each other.
Life’s okay.
I’ll survive.
