Page 133 of Summer After Summer

“Why?”

“A million reasons, but most of all because this day has been great, and it’ll be something to remember it by.”

“You’re right. Plus, I picked it out.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you don’t like the ones I picked out?”

“Ha!” I kiss him. “Wait here.”

I dart into the store and buy the charm, asking the saleswoman to attach it to my bracelet. She admires the other charms on it, and I smile at her and nod when she asks if “my young man” is the handsome man waiting outside for me.

I take my receipt and return to Fred, who’s frowning at his phone.

“I thought we were playing hooky.”

He puts it into his pocket. “We are. Let me see?”

I hold my wrist up. He touches the charm, then lets it go.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Fred.”

“This bracelet should have so many more charms on it.”

“It will.”

He smiles. “Good. Shall we find a pub?”

“Excellent idea.”

He holds out his hand and I take it, and then we find a cozy place with a snug, and we sit and drink the local beer until the world is fuzzy.

We took the train here, but Fred arranged for his car to pick us up, and so now we’re in the backseat, like we were last night, our fingers intertwined. I rest my head against his shoulder as we wend our way through the countryside on our way back to London.

“Good day?” Fred asks.

“The best.” He kisses the top of my head and I sink further into him.

“I’m glad you liked it. What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Shh,” I say, turning my face to kiss him. “Don’t curse us.”

He smiles against my mouth. “No.”

His hands come to my face, cradling it. Then he kisses me gently, our eyes closed, mouths soft, taking our time. Because we have all the time in the world. And if we don’t, I’ll turn this charm over three times and say something magic, and we’ll be revived and we’ll try again.

When we get back to his apartment, we don’t speak. Instead, we continue to explore each other slowly, drinking in our reunion in a way we weren’t able to last night.

Every time we come together, I remember how much more everything is with him. How his touch makes me respond in a way no one else’s has. I don’t know for certain if it’s like that for him, but it seems to be.

When we finish, I fall asleep in his arms, and when I wake, he’s gone again, but I don’t worry this time, even though there’s no note. I can picture him in the kitchen, making our breakfast, planning our day. Or maybe he’s out getting supplies. Yes, that must be it because the apartment is very quiet, too still if he’s here.

I check the time. It’s after nine, and I’m late for practice and Matt is going to kill me.

I reach for my phone. I turned it off yesterday after I wrote Matt to say that I was gone for the day. I should let him know that I’ll be back on court tomorrow. He’ll be apoplectic, but this is doing me more good than a couple of days of hitting.

---