Page 86 of Swim To Me

“No, I don’t,” I agree with a smile, not that Delilah can see it over the phone. “I couldn’t think of anything worse than working in an office, but if you’re happy…”

“I like it.”

“I know you do. I—”

“No, I mean, Idolike my job, but I meant the smile in your voice when you speak to me. I like it. A lot.”

I think Delilah’s smiling too, at least I hope she is.

“It always seems to happen when you’re around, Delilah… Will you text me when you’re leaving the office? Make sure you don’t work yourself too hard, okay?”

“I promise, Grey. Are you home yet?”

“Almost. I’m going to shower, scoff down whatever dinner Hudson’s concocted up and then head straight to bed. My eyes are burning with the amount of bleach and chlorine we had to clean the pool out with, I need to just close them for a while.”

Delilah snorts breathily. I know she said there’s a few of them staying behind, eating and drinking, but I still wish I was there. At least to give her a hug and a kiss and fill up her water bottle so she doesn’t get dehydrated. I suppose I could but I don’t even know the address of her publishing house for starters, and second, I don’t want to interrupt her flow. Instead, I’ll have to make do with our nightly phone calls and text messages until I can hold her again in two days.

God.

I’m whipped already, and I fucking love it.

“Are all you Millen boys’ cooks?”

“Huh?” My tired brain plays catch up with the last thing I told her. “Oh! Yeah. Mum taught us all how to cook from a young age. There was many a fight in the kitchen, so I don’t know how she dealt with it all without losing her temper, but I never remember her getting angry. We’ve all got a love for cooking now, suppose that bonding time never leaves you.”

“I wouldn’t know… but it sounds lovely.”

I feel a bit of a dick for bringing up family bonding, knowing full well Delilah didn’t get to experience that throughout her childhood. My mouth runs away with me at the best of times, even more so when I’m tired, so it simply slipped out and I instantly feel guilty.

“Gorgeous—”

“Don’t feel bad, Grey. It’s lovely for you to look back on and talk about! Don’t feel like you can’t share it with me. Please.”

It’s impossible not the hear the sincerity in Delilah’s tone.

“I-I’d like to be able to give my children that experience one day, anyway, so it’s something I just need to get over… not getoverlike that, but…tackle.Come to terms with. Do you know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean.” I wait for Delilah to expand on her words, but when she doesn’t supply any more information, I leave the subject alone. Still, I store that tidbit away in the back of my mind. We haven’t talked about kids yet, we’re still so early on in our relationship, but at least I know Delilah wants to be a mother at some point in her life.

Good. Because I’ve always wanted a handful of children; to give them the same chance at growing up the way I did, surrounded by a loving bunch of siblings.

The muffled sound of someone calling Delilah’s name reaches my ears, followed by the much clearer sound of my girl’s voice as she takes her hand away from the speaker.

“I have to go, food’s almost here.”

“Go enjoy yourself, gorgeous.” I take a peek out of the tinted back windows, noticing the familiar street we’re turning down. “I’m nearly home now, so I’ll send you a text before I fall asleep.”

Delilah’s sweet voice biding me a good night sticks with me, making my dreams that much sweeter and making me feel that much more guilty for what happens on Friday.

Hudson greets me with a grunted “morning,” thrusting a cup of coffee in my hand while he watches replays of a latest boxing match. I watch a few rounds, fascinated by the blood splatters coming from each opponent and the loud thrum of the crowd shouting expletives.

Work isn’t anything to shout home about, at least I don’t get vomited on today, and when my stomach begins to rumble andthe coffee machine in the café stops working, I volunteer to pop out for a round of caffeinated drinks for myself and the rest of the lifeguards.

With a list on my phone of everyone’s orders, I walk the short distance to the closest café, enjoying the sunshine beating down upon my head and the ability to get outside for a little bit.

Until a young woman stops me dead in the street.

“Are you Grey Millen?”

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