Page 103 of Fire Island
After I reread the same sentence four times, the page blurs. I swallow past the stone wedged in my throat and gather my things. “I’m going to bed.” I rise, kissing Cal’s cheek.
He grabs my wrist. His eyes are tight as he shakes his head.
“It’s okay, I’m tired.”
I slip from his hold and mutter a goodnight to Reese as I pass him in his chair. His eyes are still closed, like he can’t look at me. Not able to witness the hurt he caused. Inside, I pop my blanket and book on the sofa and pad upstairs. The stairwell outside our bedroom is cold. I close the door behind me and pad toward the shower.
A nice, long, hot shower will right my ragged feelings.
I shuck my clothes and step into the steaming stream of water. The weight crushing my logic and reason falls away.
Reese is just a kid.
He may only be seven years younger than me, but his parents were too young. I’m older, even more so if you gauge age by life experience. He needs a stable adult and a place to crash. I’m not saying I’m part of that, but I won’t make his life harder than it already is. If not for the broken young man downstairs, I’ll do it for the man I love. For his chance to be a father.
I find myself rubbing my hands over my belly. The thought of it swollen with Cal’s child.
The moment I would tell him he’s a father. Watching him with his child from day one.
Tears course down my cheeks, washing out with the water running over my face.
All the life we have to live yet...
All the life we can create.
Anywhere we want.
Twenty-Eight
CALLUM
Reese is in the shack. Check.
Evie is finishing up her words—five minutes, she said. Check.
The sun is setting slowly. Check.
The small navy velvet box sits on the east ledge of the lantern room, ready to be lit up. My heart is in my damn throat with the plan I fully intend to execute the second Evie crosses the threshold of the room.
The last rays of the day pour through the glass top of the lighthouse, shattering as they meet the lamp in the center, casting a brilliant golden-tinged rainbow around the room, at my feet, and passing over my face like molasses in winter as the suns sinks further.
A soft knock comes at the right time.
Sucking in a fortifying breath, I stand in front of the door, blocking her view of the room as I open it.
“Close your eyes, baby girl.”
She huffs a nervous breath and her eyelids close. She holds out a hand. “Did you sweep out the glass?”
“Maybe. You’ll see.”
“What are you up to, McCreary?”
McCreary.I can’t wait for that name to be hers, too.
For us to be officially inseparable.
Nonnegotiable. On paper.
