Page 127 of Must Have Been Love

“We’ve got this,” I say, tapping my stomach softly. “Or at least I think we do.” All I know is I have less than eight months to get my life together. Which actually isn’t too bad a deadline.

When we dock, Jesse leans in through the window and kisses my cheek, telling me to go take a nap because I look beat. I drive off the ferry and park in my usual spot outside the bar, amazed at how busy it is. Maud is working today, and she waves at me from the porch as I climb out of the car.

“How sweet is that?” she asks me, pointing at the beach. I follow the direction of her finger to where somebody has written out words with pebbles on the sand.

You Have Never Been A Still Ocean. You Have Always Been My Storm.

“You think it’s some kind of love letter?” she asks. “Maybe we’ll get a proposal in here. How romantic would that be?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Still sweet though,” Maud says.

“It is.” I nod, carrying my suitcase through the bar to the private door leading to my apartment. It feels like it’s been months, not days, since I was last here and when I step inside and put the bag on the floor it takes me a moment to catch my breath.

Unlike the first time I walked in here, it’s clean, it smells fresh. It feels like home. I take my luggage to the bedroom and leave it there. I’ll unpack later, when I’m ready.

Walking back into the bar, I grab a fresh apron and knot it around my waist, sliding behind the counter to where Autumn is smiling at me, like she’s been waiting for me all this time.

“You’re back,” she says, grinning.

“Yes.” I nod. “I really am. Now tell me, which song are you planning to sing at Karaoke, because I don’t want any dupes.”

* * *

Decaf coffee really is the worst. I wrinkle my nose as I swallow it down the next morning, wishing I hadn’t read a whole thread on Reddit that listed everything you have to give up for nine months to have a healthy baby.

I can live without blue cheese. And avoiding liver and liver products really isn’t going to ruin my life. But no caffeine? Are they serious? I sigh and take another sip of the devil’s juice.

It’s super early and the town is only just waking up. The first ferry of the day is waiting at the dock, and there’s a mist dancing above the surface of the water as it gently laps into shore.

A seagull swoops down to pick something up from the beach, and I frown when I see there are some more pebbles there, spelling out words. They’re different from yesterday. I move my eyes over the sentence, my throat tight.

You’ve woven a spell around me, and I never want to break free.

I look around, trying to see if the wordsmith is still around, because I swear those pebbles weren’t there last night as the sun went down. But the beach is empty, save for the birds.

I let out a long breath, then pour the rest of the decaf coffee into a nearby plant, because if I have to avoid caffeine for the next eight months, I’d rather not drink coffee at all.

Or at least I’ll ask Mylene if she can work her magic and make something that resembles the cappuccinos I love.

The jukebox calls to me as I walk back into the bar. I turn it on, then flick through until I find “Silver Springs” by Stevie Nicks.

And as her husky voice sings out, telling Lindsay Buckingham he could be her Silver Spring, I take a deep breath.

Because I’m starting to wish Hudson could be mine.

thirty-six

HUDSON

“Where have you been?” Asher asks as I walk into the living room, Ayda at my side. My daughter’s knees and hands are covered in sand from helping me find stones.

“Out for a walk. I told you.”

“At this time?” He looks skeptical. “Hey kid, you need a shower,” he says to Ayda, who’s somehow managed to get sand in her hair too.

I tip my head to look at him. “When are you going home?” I ask him. “Not that it’s not a pleasure to have you here.”

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