Page 99 of Return to Us
“I did.”
“And I love you,” I tell her again.
“You do.”
I kiss her again. “What do you say? Come to the beach with me and let me love you.”
Her eyes are warm as she nods. “All right.”
Relief spreads through me. I want to spend as much time as I can with her. When she’s near me, I feel alive again. “Good. I’ll pick you up Friday after work.”
“We’re going as friends if anyone asks, right?”
I nod. “During the day, absolutely. At night?” My voice drops. “Well, at night, you’re mine, and I’m going to show you exactly what that means—repeatedly.”
Jessica’s lips lift as a coy smile plays on her lips. “I look forward to our first night.”
“Me too, love. Me too.”
* * *
“And then, my daddy said that I didn’t have to wear the pink leggings, I could wear the white ones, but Mrs. Butler was so mad.”
Amelia hasn’t stopped talking for more than three seconds the entire ride. One hour of her peppering Jessica with stories of dance, daycare, dinners, conversations that she heard, and what she wore. How Jess hasn’t thrown herself from the car yet, I’ll never know.
Hell, I’ve debated it.
We pull into a gas station, and Jessica takes Amelia to the bathroom. I watch as the two of them walk hand in hand, smiling as though they’ve known each other from day one. Amelia stops at the door and then wraps her arms around Jessica’s hips.
I can see it now. The future—this, her, us as a family, and it’s terrifying me.
Everything feels frozen as I stare at the two people I love. Amelia is my world, and Jessica is my soul. How is this my life? How did just a few months change everything?
“You all right, son?” a voice asks from beside me.
“Huh?”
“You look a little lost,” the older man says.
“No, I’m fine.”
He turns, seeing where the girls just entered the store, and then looks back to me. “I see.”
“See what?” I ask.
“You were standing there, looking at something, and I thought maybe you didn’t know what you were looking for, but now I see I was wrong.”
I grab the handle to the pump and shake my head. “No, I’m not lost.”
“How long have you been married?” he asks.
“No, no, she’s not my wife. I’m not . . . she’s a friend.”
He laughs once. “A friend, eh?”
Great, even complete strangers can see we’re more than friends. “Yeah, friends.”
“If you say so. You looked like part of your heart was walking away.”
