Page 71 of No Greater Love
Family. The word resonated deeply, filling my heart with a sense of belonging and love I'd never imagined for myself.
Later, as Nate carried a sleeping Paige to her bunk, I banked the fire and waited for him on the porch, the cool night air soothing against my skin.
He joined me shortly after, sliding onto the seat beside me and taking my hand. "She's out like a light."
"Good tired," I murmured. "The best kind."
We sat quietly, listening to the waves and the distant murmurs of other campers. Tomorrow we'd return home to everyday routines and responsibilities, but for tonight, it was just us—our own little world, perfect and complete.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"For what?"
"For this. For including me, for showing me how good this can feel." I gestured around us, encompassing the cabin, the beach, and everything we’d shared. "I didn't know I could have this."
"Thank you for being here," Nate replied softly, squeezing my hand. "For wanting us."
We lingered there until exhaustion gently drew us back inside, falling asleep wrapped around each other, the steady rhythm of Nate's heartbeat beneath my ear.
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Tuesday morning brought the bittersweet business of packing up and checking out. Paige dragged her feet through every task, clearly hoping to delay our departure as long as possible.
"Do we have to leave today?" she asked for the fourth time as we loaded our sandy, sun-faded belongings into the car. "Can't we stay just one more day?"
“I wish, kiddo," Nate told her gently. "But we all have to get back to work."
"Work is stupid," Paige declared with the fervor of someone who'd never had to pay rent. "Beaches are better."
"I can't argue with that logic," I said, taking one last look at the ocean before getting into the passenger seat. "But beaches will still be here next summer."
"Promise?" Paige asked from the backseat.
"Promise," Nate and I said in unison, which made her giggle despite her melancholy.
The drive home was quieter than our trip out had been, all of us lost in our own thoughts and the gentle sadness that comes with the end of something wonderful. But it was a comfortable quiet, the kind that comes from being completely at ease with each other.
Paige dozed in the backseat for most of the journey, her tie-dye shirt clutched in her arms like a talisman. Every so often, she'd wake up and share a random memory from the trip—the sandcastle with working battlements, the way the campfire sparks had looked like shooting stars, the s'mores we’d made beside the campfire.
"Can we really come back next year?" she asked drowsily as we passed the exit for home.
"Absolutely!" Nate said, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. "The annual Crawford family beach trip is officially a tradition now."
There it was again.Crawford family.The words still sent a warm flutter through my chest. Not Nate and Paige plus their friend Tasha. Not a trial run or an experiment.Family.
As familiar landmarks started appearing outside the windows, I found myself thinking about how much had changed in just four days. Not just between Nate and me, though our relationship felt deeper and more settled than ever. Something about myself, about what I wanted from life, about what home meant.
For the first time in my adult life, I wasn't looking ahead to the next challenge or accomplishment. I wasn't thinking about what I should be doing differently or better. I was just happy with what I had right here, right now.
I was happy being part of this family we'd built together—this imperfect, wonderful, completely unexpected family that had somehow become the center of my world.
"Almost there," Nate said as we turned onto his street, and I felt that familiar mix of relief and reluctance that comes with coming home from a perfect trip.
But as we pulled into his driveway, all three of us sun-tired and sandy and completely content, I realized something important had been decided over the past four days. Not through any grand declaration or dramatic moment, but through the simple accumulation of small joys—wave jumping and s'mores and tie-dye shirts and the way Paige had fallen asleep against my shoulder by the campfire.
And for the first time in my life, that felt like enough.
Nate turned off the engine and we all sat there for a moment, nobody quite ready to break the spell of our perfect weekend. Then Paige stirred in the backseat, stretching and yawning.
