Page 120 of Every Beautiful Mile

That night, after he cooks us salmon, and I study every move he makes in the kitchen, there’s a heaviness in the air.

When we strip off our clothes and crawl into bed, we’re silent—sadness digs its claws into every ounce of pleasure. Ethan touches and kisses me with a gentle intensity he hasn’t before. It isn’t playful sex with laughter or a quick slam against the wall. He makes love to me in a way that wrecks every cell that glues me together.

More than once, I have to look away from the way his eyes burn into mine and pull every secret out of me without a single word. When his gentle rocking pushes my body to a shattering climax, the sob that escapes my throat is mixed with hot tears that stain my face.

I’m destroyed.

He stays quiet.

He knows.

Whether he feels what I do or not doesn’t matter. He knows the losing battle I’m fighting.

He kisses every tear that streams down my face until they stop.

With my head on his chest, nearly asleep, he swirls circles across my bare back with his finger.

“Penelope?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

I keep my eyes closed and pretend to sleep. I don’t have the strength to say what needs to be said.

“If you weren’t leaving, I would have loved you.”

Then, my newly mended heart shatters into a million pieces all over again.

Forty-five

The sadness of last night is eclipsed this morning by the excitement of seeing Finn and Marin.

In the kitchen of the house, I tap my toes on a stool while rubbing my sweaty palms against my jeans.

“Is it weird I’m nervous?”

“Nervous?” Ethan laughs as he makes coffee. “What the hell for?”

“I don’t know. Because I spent the whole time they were gone naked with you.” I twist my hair with my fingers.

“First of all, they don’t know that.”

He puts a cup of coffee in front of me, his ropey forearms on full display under the pushed-up sleeves of his shirt. “Second of all, I don’t think they would care, anyway. They seemed to like me, and they like the boys. And I know for a fact Marin wanted you to have a walk of shame.” He raises an eyebrow as he presses a light kiss on my temple.

“You’re right. I’m being ridiculous. I can play this cool. It’ll be fine. Wonderful, even.”

He gives me a skeptical look before he cracks an egg into the pan.

An hour later, Ethan is at work, and I’m in a large room in Acadia National Park with twenty other sets of parents. I bounce anxiously as a line of matching t-shirts and oversized backpacks finally bobs into view.

Then here they are, grubby and smiling. Happy tears drip down my face as I grab Marin and Finn in a hug that can never last long enough.

They laugh, smell horrible, and look like different people but the same kids all at once. Touching them reminds me of how much I missed them.

“Mom,” Finn croaks. “It’s been weeks, not years.”

Marin’s arms wrap tightly around my waist as I laugh and swipe the tears away. “I can’t help it. I missed you!” I look at Marin. “And you survived a hole for a toilet!”

She grins. “With flying colors, Penelope.”

“I want to hear every single detail,” I say as we start to walk toward the parking lot.

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