Page 70 of Summer After Summer

I climb back into bed. “Here?”

“Right here,” he says, pulling me closer to him and kissing my neck. In an instant, we’re right back in the moment together, only skin between us. Fred puts the condom on and positions himself over me. He looks down at me, his face in shadow, his voice full of desire. “Did you wait for me?”

“No,” I say and pull him inside.

And there’s nothing stopping us now as our breath turns ragged and our bodies thrust together, and I lose myself a moment before he does, burying himself deep.

Two hours later, we’re still touching. His hand on my hip, mine on his flat stomach. His fingers massaging gently along my rib, then followed by kisses and promises to make it all better.

In between we catch each other up on where we’ve been these last five years, what we’ve done and seen and felt. And all that complicity we had when we first met, where we felt like our two hearts were completely open to each other, like we were the only people in the world who’d ever felt this way: that’s still there—it’s still there—and I don’t know whether to stop his talking with kisses so we can start all over more slowly or talk to him until the day breaks.

“What time is it?” I ask.

He picks his watch off the nightstand. “Four AM.”

“Sun will be up soon.”

He smiles against my mouth. “I always wanted to do this.”

“Sex?”

“Well, yes, but I meant talking all night. Being with you for the sunrise.”

“But you didn’t come here for this.”

“I swear.”

“Uh-huh.”

His finger grazes my nipple and my body clenches. “Okay, okay, maybe a small part of me was hoping for a kiss.”

“Fred.”

“Olivia.”

“What’s happening?”

“We’re having the reunion we deserve?”

“Okay, sure. But also …”

“What about everything that happened last time?”

“Well, yeah.”

He turns over on his back, pulling the sheet across us. It’s the coolest part of the night, before the sun comes up, after the heat of the day has burned off and been swept away by the ocean breeze.

“I was an idiot,” he says.

“I agree.”

“Thanks.”

“We both were.” I lace my fingers through his. He raises my hand to his mouth and kisses it.

“I should’ve reached out.”

“Yes.”

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