I must have fallen asleep because it was pitch black when I looked around. The sound of deep breathing awakened me, and I pushed away from the body nearby. “You’re hogging the bed again, Abby.”
A vaguely familiar voice—though certainly not Abby’s—answered me. “Emily. Baby, it’s me.”
I blinked, coming fully awake as my vision adjusted. Abby would never be hogging the bed again. Tears pooled in my eyes. Pull yourself together. “Sorry, Beck. I must have been sound asleep.”
Beck brushed the wetness off my cheek with a touch so tender it made me feel like melting. “It’s okay. I’m just glad I know you’re not calling for another girlfriend.”
I smiled but resisted the urge to lean into her. “You can rest easy about that. I haven’t had a girlfriend, really. Only…uh…temporary amusements.”
“Before,” Beck added.
I stood and stretched again, heading for the bathroom. “Before what?”
“You’ve never had a girlfriend before. Before now.”
Shit. This kind of entanglement was one reason why I hadn’t wanted to get involved in the first place. I didn’t answer and started on a new subject when I returned. “Are you hungry at all?”
Beck grinned and hopped out of bed. “Yeah, I am. Meet me in the kitchen?”
I nodded and watched her stroll casually toward her room. Parading that naked body in front of me when I was trying to get some distance simply wasn’t fair.
Five minutes later, Beck was busy at the stove, and I was setting the table. We were both in our usual sleepwear, and I was feeling much better, not just because her cooking smelled delicious but also because it meant we were resuming our usual roles. But when she kissed my cheek before putting my plate down and moved her chair closer to mine before sitting, I knew things weren’t exactly like normal.
“This looks fantastic.” I tried for some neutral comment before risking a glance over. Beck wore an ear-to-ear grin. The warmth in her eyes made me reconsider if normal was even what I wanted. I was in completely new territory, having never gotten up in the middle of the night to have a snack with a sex partner before. It felt strangely agreeable.
“I think you look fantastic.” She put her hand on my leg. “In fact, I’ve never seen you look more beautiful.”
Having recently been in the bathroom, I had a pretty good idea of what she was looking at. And while I could admit I was more relaxed, I was far from beautiful. “I’ve heard that too much sex can make you blind, but you must have a very low threshold.”
It wasn’t the worst thing I could have said, but it certainly wasn’t the best either. Beck frowned and moved her hand off my leg. I looked away from her and took a few bites. She truly did have a way with eggs, and I searched for something nice to say, something to ease the growing tension between us. “What time is it anyway?” Okay, not particularly nice, but at least neutral, wasn’t it?
She gave the clock behind me a quick glance before turning her chair to face me head-on. “I think it’s time for you to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
I’d never heard her tone sound quite like that. Not aggressive, but strong, almost forceful. In typical fashion, I reacted timidly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“If you wanted a one and done, we could have had that weeks ago. You need to tell me why you’re acting as if you barely know me or like I’m only someone who works for you.”
Okay, that landed pretty close to home. “I’m not,” I protested. She cocked her head slightly with an expression that would have been amusing if I hadn’t been so busy defending myself. “That is, I don’t mean to.” I put a hand on her face, and her expression softened. “I told you, I’m not good at this relationship stuff.”
Beck leaned in and kissed me. Not being much of a kisser, I didn’t have much to go by, but no one’s lips had ever affected me like hers. In seconds, all my discomfort melted away, and I had no idea why I’d ever been worried. My hands found the back of her neck, and I pulled, needing to be closer. She shifted me onto her lap, and I slid one hand under her shirt and cupped her breast. The sound in her throat made me want to be in bed with her again. Now. I broke the kiss to whisper in her ear, “Have you had enough?”
“No,” she answered. The way her eyes traveled down my body, I knew she wasn’t referring to the eggs. I shivered, imagining what that mouth of hers could do to the rest of my body. “I’m ready for the next course.”
Back in the bedroom, Beck fed my every need without me having to ask. She didn’t move her mouth away after my shattering orgasm. As soon as the throbbing began to slow, she eased into me gently. The incredible feeling of being filled when I was so open and wet made me cry out with pleasure. Immediately, she froze and looked up. “Is this okay? Emily, baby, did I hurt you?”
I felt her start to withdraw and grabbed her wrist. “No. Don’t…don’t leave. I want this. Want you exactly where you are.”
She rested her head on my stomach, and I felt the tension leave her shoulders. “It feels amazing to be inside you, but I was afraid that I’d—”
“You didn’t. Please believe me.” She moved hesitantly, and I arched, pushing myself against her. “Yes. Like that.”
Oh God. When she moved in deeper and curled her fingers slightly, I’d never felt anything so right. Her lips caressed my clit, and I totally lost control. I called out her name, something I’d never done with any of my previous lovers—probably because I wasn’t sure I knew it—and clutched frantically at her shoulders as her pace increased. The sensations gathered strength until I could no longer hold them back. Heat and light rushed through me like a blissful inferno, and my scream of release echoed around the room.
Beck kissed her way up my body, her fingers still inside me. “Stay,” I whispered.
“Always,” she answered.
Did she know my sex-addled brain was only referring to her physical position at that moment? When she turned us so we faced each other, her free hand on my back and my breasts at the level of her mouth, I quickly decided it didn’t matter. My insides pulsed around her, and when her knuckles grazed my clit, I knew I wasn’t through. She lifted her head, her mouth pressing softly over my shoulders and my neck. I eased a leg over her hip, opening myself to her in a whole new way. I’d intended that openness to be physical, but something inside—something that felt like the heart I’d always denied having—told me it wasn’t. In the next instant, my body was too far gone to hear my mind’s warnings about what that might mean.
* * *
“Wanna go out?” It was such a simple question, and Beck asked it with such enthusiasm. I tried to calm my stomach and ease the panic in my limbs. If I’d known we’d end up at the marina, I would have absolutely refused to leave the house, especially since the past two days had felt more like a honeymoon than anything I’d ever experienced. This morning, Beck had us eating breakfast in bed, and we’d giggled about having “crumby” sheets. Once she’d finally gotten me up, I’d been unusually pliable, initially having no qualms about her surprise. Now I was resolutely shaking my head.
“Come on,” Beck urged. “It’s easy. You don’t have to do a thing but enjoy it.”
I hadn’t even wanted to walk out on the pier, but she’d taken my hand in hers and was pulling me along so excitedly, I’d had no choice but to follow. Now Beck was pointing at one of the few moored boats. There had been a series of calm, sunny days after the storm had passed, and all the others were fishing, I supposed, or simply out enjoying the weather. But I didn’t intend to be one of them.
“No,” I said, crossing my arms for emphasis. “I don’t like boats.”
She widened her stance and pointed both thumbs at her chest, grinning broadly. “Because you haven’t been out on one with me.”
The truth was, I’d been on one boat in my life. My inexplicable aversion to them had spared me until I’d accompanied Jackson on a business trip to Chicago early in our marriage. We’d started the day with a breakfast of Bloody Marys and mimosas to the point I’d been tipsy enough to go along. From the moment I’d stepped aboard, I’d felt unbalanced and desperate to escape. Afterward, I had only a memory of my own nausea and sounds of disgust from the other passengers.
I tried to cover the embarrassing memory with a cough.
“You’re late, Reynolds,” a gruff male voice said behind me.
I watched the grin disappear from Beck’s face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Avery.”
“I should take out extra for my wasted time.”
Beck ducked her head, her gaze fixed on the ground. I turned, taking in the speaker’s weathered face and the worn cutoffs and dirty T-shirt. He scratched at his belly while his eyes ran lazily over my body, eventually making their way back to my face. “So who’s this pretty lady?” he asked.
Beck’s head snapped up, and she took a step closer to me. “This is the lady who’s renting the Guest House. I clean for her and thought she might enjoy a ride around the Outer Banks.”
I noted she didn’t use my name or suggest any relationship between us, other than employer and employee. “It’s my fault we’re late,” I said, using my most imperious tone. “I’m visiting from the city and am not accustomed to these early hours.” Most of that was true, though today we’d gotten a late start mainly because I’d been unwilling to let Beck out of bed, and she’d been equally unwilling to go. “And I’m afraid there was a misunderstanding. We’re going to have to cancel,” I added. “Please let me know the fee, and I’ll cover it.”
When Mr. Avery squinted hesitantly, Beck filled in. “There’s no fee,” she said. “You said I could have her all day after I fixed that throttle last month and cleaned her up, remember?”
His face darkening, Avery snarled, “Yeah, I remember. I’m not a retard like you.”
I turned to Beck, whose face had gone slack as she focused on her feet. “Send him a bill for whatever your work would normally cost and let’s go. I’m not going to stand here and have my employee insulted.”
The corner of Beck’s mouth curved up slightly. “Yes, ma’am,” she said softly, following me as I strode down the pier.
“That wasn’t our deal,” Avery protested, his voice rising. “Hey, wait a minute.”
I paused, looking over my shoulder. “Yes?”
“Look, I…I didn’t mean nothing. It’s just something to say.” I gave him a skeptical look, and he took a step toward us. “How about I put it on your account, Beck?”
I cocked my head at her. “You have an account here?”
She nodded. “I’m saving to buy a boat of my own. Mr. Avery keeps a balance of what I’ve put in so far, though it’s not much.” She looked toward the man, asking, “Barely over five hundred, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Something like that.”
“I’d like to see your accounting system,” I said. “And get a receipt for today’s addition.”
Over Avery’s sputtering, I glanced at our intended ride. Rust showed in places, and it had all sorts of ropes and netting hanging off it. How could Beck even get near a pulley after what had happened to her? I suppressed a shudder. “What kind of boat is that, anyway?”
“It’s a trawler,” Beck said, looking at the water beyond. “Specifically, a wet fish trawler. Our boat was a lot like it.”
I swallowed. She wanted a boat like the one her father had died on? “Do you know how to drive one of these?”
Beck’s head bobbed eagerly. “I could do it with my eyes closed.”
I frowned. “Don’t you dare.”
“Does that mean you’ll go?”
The adorably excited look on her face was almost impossible to resist. Almost. “No. But maybe when you get your own boat.”
Her face fell. “We might both be old and gray by then.”
“So much the better. I’ll need some excitement to get my heart going at that age.”
I knew Beck was trying to hide her disappointment, so when she asked, “Will you at least come aboard and let me show you around? I promise she’ll stay docked,” I had to agree.
The boat rocked slightly as we climbed on, and my stomach protested immediately. Beck was in her element, though, pointing out the various functions of the assorted pieces of equipment on board, all designed for some kind of fishing. We went down some narrow stairs to the living quarters underneath. The area was remarkably clean, with a faint, antiseptic smell. Beck’s work, I imagined. That thought made me settle enough to ask, “Could you make a living doing this? By yourself?”
She shrugged. “Probably not by myself, no. And it’s getting harder and harder to do, even for the bigger operations. Those huge commercial ships have just about fished this area dry. It’s sad.” She stared at the water. “This is the ship I know from being out with Papa, but I’d need a smaller one to run by myself. When I talk to Mama, she acts like she agrees, but I think it’s because she knows I’ll never have the money to buy one.”
Her expression was grim, and I moved to her without thinking. Holding her, I felt the gentle rocking of the water rippling beneath us. It was somehow soothing and romantic at the same time. Both sensations were nice, but I wanted to steer her away from this pursuit for several reasons, the main one being my own fear. “Maybe there’s something else you’re supposed to do first. Like become a world-famous artist by winning the PAFA.”
I felt her nod against me. “There’s amazing prize money too. First place, along with the money I made from the sale, would get me close to buying this.” I sighed. “What?” she asked.
“Maybe I’m being selfish right now.” Right now? How about 99.9 percent of the time? I brushed aside cynical Emily and went on. “But I’m afraid for you out on this thing by yourself. When I told you I don’t like boats, what I should have said is, I’m afraid of them. I don’t know why, but I’ve always had this deep-seated dread.”
Beck met my eyes. “But you came here with me because you knew I wanted to. That’s not selfish.” She kissed my forehead and led me off the boat. A truck started in the distance. “There goes Mr. Avery. Guess you won’t be doing any accounting today.” We walked slowly down the pier. “Did you know the word calculus comes from a Latin word for pebble because the Romans used stones to calculate things?”
I did know, but I loved that she knew too. I loved how she thought of things like that. I loved… No, no, no, Emily. We’re not going there. “Hey, how about you give me a ride on your scooter instead? Take me around the island and show me some of your favorite spots?”
Beck was giving me her “trying to figure something out” look. “Do you really want to, or are you just trying to make me feel better?”
“Both,” I answered, and her face lit up. “But don’t laugh if I fall off or something.”
“I wouldn’t laugh at something like that, Emily.” It was true. Beck wasn’t the type of person to be amused by someone else’s misfortune.
I took in a breath. “Okay. Let’s do it. Only…you’ll bring me back if I don’t like it, won’t you?”
She stepped closer. “Absolutely, I will. You trust me, don’t you?” When I nodded, she added, “And thank you for standing up to Mr. Avery. Mom always thought I should go to work for him in his engine shop, but he’s so mean I never wanted to, even if I could make more money.”
We were at the car, but I stopped her with my hand on her chest. “I would say the extra money wouldn’t be worth the possible damage to your sweet heart.”
She put her hand over mine. “You call me that, sometimes.”
“Yes. And that’s a first for me, you should know.” I could feel that same heart beating powerfully through her shirt.
She smiled, and I wanted to melt into her. “We’re going to have an amazing day.”
And it was. Though initially, I pressed myself close and held on tight strictly out of nerves, my confidence in Beck’s riding ability grew by the moment. Before long, I was able to relax my death grip and enjoy the feel of the wind, the warmth of the sun, and the wonderful views. She turned to ask if I was hungry, and at my nod, we pulled into a small restaurant that fronted the sound and had a view over to the mainland. A few heads turned as we entered, and Beck’s strut had me feeling like a girl from the ’50s who was the envy of all the kids at the malt shop because she had the coolest date.
We rode on after lunch, farther than I’d been before, and came to an area devoid of any houses, business, or people, for that matter. “This is the Cape Hattaras National Seashore,” Beck announced, pulling off the main road at the beginning of a sandy trail. A small, deserted cove lay below us. “If you want some beach time, we can ride down, but you’ll have to help push it up. And it may be a little rough.”
“Sometimes rough is fun,” I teased, reaching around and pinching her nipple.
Beck flinched, the bike jerked, and I—predictably—lost my balance and slid off. Thankfully, the sand was soft, and I landed squarely on my ass, which I could only think served me right for being one. At that, I bit my lip, trying hard to hold in a laugh. Beck, however, gave a cry and dropped the scooter, kneeling beside me on the sand. “Oh God, Emily. I’m so sorry. Oh God, are you hurt?” She ran her hands over my sides, quickly pulling them off when she felt my barely suppressed chuckle. “Don’t let me hurt you. Oh God. Shall I call 9-1-1?” Her eyes were wide and wild, and I’d never heard her so upset or panicked. The motor coughed and died.
“I’m okay.” I tried to reassure her, but laughter choked my voice, and she began fumbling for her phone. I reached to touch her hand. “Honestly, Beck. I’m fine. Please. Don’t call anyone. Just help me up.”
“Are you sure you should move? You might make things worse. Maybe you have a concussion or something, and you think you’re okay, but you’re really not.”
The somber expression on her face made me want to laugh all over again. “Trust me, if I’ve concussed anything, it’s my pride. And it, like my ass”—which I paused to rub strategically—“could certainly use some deflating.” Beck looked at me warily. I rubbed her arm. “I promise, I’m fine.”
It took me another ten minutes to convince Beck I didn’t need to go to the hospital. She would only be mollified when I promised she could conduct a “thorough examination.” We might have differing ideas of what that would entail, but I was certain I could make her see things my way. After walking the bike down, Beck produced a large towel from the storage compartment under the seat and insisted I lie on it. She stripped me to my bathing suit before brushing her fingers lightly over every part of my body. She bent each of my joints as she repeated things like, “Does this hurt?” or “Is this sore?” Finally, tired of the nursey routine and more than a little turned on, I took her face in my hands.
“Look at me, Beck.” When her gaze settled on mine, I said, “I am fine. Do you hear me? I promise I’m not hurt. I landed where I have the most padding, and I may have a butt bruise tomorrow, but there’s nothing else wrong. Okay?” She frowned, and I added, “Now, you promised me an amazing day, and it has been one so far. Would you please come here with me, and we can continue with that?”
She fidgeted. “I…I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt, Emily. You’re…you’re very important to me.”
I ignored the sentiment. Here was an opening, and I took it. “The way you feel now? That’s how I worry about you getting out on that boat, Beck. I’d be terribly upset if something happened to you.”
Beck blinked and said, “Oh.” After a few seconds, she took off her T-shirt and flopped beside me on the towel, staring at the sky. For once, I didn’t push, letting her consider my remark.
After several minutes, she reached over and took my hand, rubbing her thumb across it softly. It felt nice, but I needed more. I rolled onto my side, onto my elbow, and kissed her softly.
“I guess I never had anyone care about me like that,” she mused. Then her body turned to meet mine, and we kissed slowly, savoring each other in this beautiful, private setting. Things began to heat up even more when she pulled a small tube of suntan lotion from her pocket and began rubbing it on my exposed parts. My skin was considerably more healthy-looking than it had been when I arrived, but we’d been in the sun for several hours, and Beck was being her usual, considerate self. I decided to returne the favor, though she probably didn’t need it. I had her sit and knelt behind her, making sure she could feel my breasts pressing against her back as I applied the lotion with long, sensuous motions.
“You have such nice arms. And legs. And I’m quite fond of all your other parts too.”
By way of response, Beck turned and brought me onto the towel, easing herself between my legs.
“Is this okay?” she asked, obviously as aroused as I was. “I’m pretty sure we’re alone here.”
At this moment I might not have cared, but by way of answer, I cupped her breast and thrust myself against her. She growled, and I wrapped my legs around her ass, bringing us closer. I’d never come like that before, but the way we fit made it easy. Afterward, we lay quietly, facing each other again as we touched lightly with random strokes on arms or backs. I reached to run my hand down the thin braid, the memory of the first time I touched it much less painful now. “Did your hair used to be this long all over?” I asked.
She nodded, rolling onto her back, her eyes closed. “From the time I was little my papa never wanted me to cut it. I usually kept it tied up or wore a ball cap. But one year we were having a really hot summer, and I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I’d seen this hairstyle in a magazine, and I took the picture to the salon where my mom went. I had them leave this back part long so he couldn’t say I cut it all off. Mama was the one who put it in a braid. But Papa was still angry at me.” After a deep sigh, she added. “So angry he banned me from going out on the boat with him for a week. Mama told me he’d get over it, but two days later, he got caught in the storm. If I’d been with him…”
Beck trailed off, but not before I heard the tremor in her voice. Turning to her, I saw her face was wet with tears. In her mind, I was sure, she would have saved her father by bringing them in sooner and avoiding the storm, but I was equally certain it would have been the other way. She would have been killed too. Taking a breath, she ran a hand over her face. “We don’t ever talk about it, Mama and me. But we know. We’re the only ones who do.” She turned toward me again. “And now you.”
For one of the few times in my life, I thought very hard about what to say. Should I argue with her about her belief that she could have saved her father? Encourage her to speak with a professional about it? Or take this for what it was—the sharing of an intensely private shame or guilt or remorse, similar to my own. With that understanding, I did what she’d done when I told her about Abby. Without offering any platitudes or absolution, I reached for her. At my touch, she went rigid for a few seconds before letting me hold her. A surge of relief and protectiveness rushed through me. Even before we’d taken the risk of moving from friends to lovers, Beck had always made me feel secure, and I relished knowing she felt the same with me.
Effortless as my solution was physically, it was emotionally unsettling. I felt like I was standing on the threshold of a place I’d never been before, and she was beckoning me in. But before I could consider what it might be like inside, it dawned on me that my time here was running out. That door would close forever once I returned to the city, and I’d be left on the outside, alone, exactly like I’d been before I met her. I closed my eyes, forcing myself not to count the days.
A breeze began to cool the coming evening, and Beck stirred. “We’d better get going,” she said, helping me to my feet.
I touched her arm, stopping her from moving away. “I’m not saying this to make you feel bad again, Beck. I swear. But do you understand how I feel about boats?”
She nodded solemnly. “I’ve been thinking about that. How about if neither of us goes out on one for as long as you’re here?”
It was a fair offer and probably the best I was going to get. I kissed her cheek. “Deal.”
I held on to her hand as we pushed the scooter to the road. After starting it up, she gestured to me to get on behind her. Looking down at the small cove, I leaned close to her ear and whispered, “I want you to know, I had a wonderful day. And I guess if anyone could make a beach person out of me, it would be you.”
Beck’s smile seemed sad, and she didn’t answer, focusing intently on the road ahead of us.
That night, I had trouble falling asleep. I leaned over to study Beck’s face as she slept, trying to understand why it felt so good when we were together. How had she opened me to her world and inched her way into mine? And what was I going to do when our worlds were no longer in the same place?
* * *
The bedroom was so bright, I thought it might be morning before I remembered the moon had been almost full the night before. I turned to Beck, eager to tell her that I’d noticed such a thing. But her side of the bed was empty. I waited, listening to see if the toilet might flush in the other part of the house, but it didn’t. After a few more moments of silence, I put on my robe and went out into the kitchen. When I didn’t find her there, I went to check in the other bedroom. Empty. Trying not to worry, I glanced toward the deck and saw her standing naked in the moonlight, looking like a statue I should fall to my knees and worship.
I caught my breath as she ran a hand across her eyes, and I realized she was crying. With no regard for the privacy she might have been seeking, I threw open the screen door. She must have heard it, but she didn’t turn. I stopped myself, taking one long, slow breath, trying to make sure I didn’t sound upset or angry.
“Beck? Sweetheart, what are you doing out here?”
It took a moment for her to answer. I walked slowly to join her while I waited. “Have you ever felt like your life was coming together and falling apart at the same time?” she asked, a slight quiver in her voice.
“Usually just the falling apart one,” I said. She sighed. Neither of us spoke for a while. “Do you want to tell me more about it?”
She continued staring at the water. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”
Perhaps she meant now as in the middle of the night, but something in her tone made me wonder if she ever would. I wanted to pry, to tease it out of her, to make her feel guilty for not saying, any number of techniques that had been tried on me when I didn’t want to talk, all to no avail. Keeping that in mind, I simply said, “Will you come back to bed? Please?” Playing on her soft heart, I added, “It seems that lately, I can’t sleep without you.”
Her gaze remained fixed on the ocean, and she whispered something so softly that I had to replay the sounds twice to understand the words. But as soon as I did, I knew what was wrong. She’d said, “Then how will you sleep after you go?”
I remembered my vision of the door into the new place and wondered how our thoughts had gotten so in sync. Perhaps my remark about becoming a beach person had started her thinking about me leaving. Whatever the case, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. I began to walk away as I had dozens of times before when other women hadn’t given enough or wanted more than I was offering.
As my hand touched the door handle, Beck said, “I’ll be in before long.”
I took in her form, standing so still, and considered how different my time here would have been without her. I admitted to myself that, from the beginning, I’d been the one asking too much and giving too little. I returned to her side, wanting very much to make her believe me. “It’s not just the sleeping part or even the sex. I wish I could stay here with you, Beck.”
Her head turned, her eyes still liquid. “You do?”
Something inside me twisted at the doubt in her expression. “Very much.” The words resonated in my gut. God, I genuinely meant it, even while I knew it was impossible. I reached for her hand, but she pulled me into an embrace.
“I was feeling sad, and it started because I have to go back to work tomorrow. It’s like Harper gave us some extra time off while the island recovered, and now I’ve gotten spoiled being around you all the time.” She squeezed me and added, “And then I started thinking about how it will feel when you’re not around at all. And I…”
She trailed off, lowering her head to my shoulder. I stroked her hair. “I know, Beck. I really do. But I’ve decided—and this isn’t at all like me—but I think we simply have to make the most of the time we have and enjoy each other while we can.” I didn’t admit this absurdly Pollyanna approach was the only thing keeping me from grabbing on to her with both hands and not letting go. That and believing I’d surely become more my old self, with barbs and shields at the ready, when I returned to the city. I felt for Beck, who didn’t have that kind of old self to return to but would always be this gentle, well-intentioned person, even when I was gone. I’d already decided to dip into my savings and pay her rent here at the Guest House for two months, hoping that would give her time to adjust to our separation without worrying about where she would live.
She sniffed. “But that’s less than three weeks.”
“Yes, but that’s nearly three weeks we wouldn’t have if we’d never met.”
Okay, I was going off the deep end now, but she lifted her head. “That’s true, isn’t it?”
I nodded, and moving my arm around her waist, I tugged lightly. “Come on. You have to work tomorrow. You need your rest.”
What good could it possibly do to discuss how ridiculously poignant parting was going to be? Perhaps if we had a little more time together, we’d begin some depletion or reach a culmination point that would smooth the way forward. Despite feeling like a total fake for refusing to admit that the next three weeks could well be the second hardest of my life, I cuddled against Beck and fell asleep almost immediately.
* * *
Even before I reached the coffee pot the next morning, my first words to Beck were, “What would you think if I stayed through October?” I poured a cup and sipped, smiling at her astonished expression. “It came to me this morning. The only reason I was leaving the weekend after Labor Day was because that was when the rest of the gang was going. But they’ve already left, and I don’t have anything going on until my new book release in November, when Mel’s scheduled a reading and signing.”
“Oh, Emily.” She flung her arms around me, and when I felt her trembling, I stretched to put my cup on the counter so I could return the embrace. “I…I couldn’t be happier.”
“I know your weekends are busy, but I’d like to take you out for dinner next week.” I tightened my hold for a few seconds before pulling back to add, “Someplace nice. To celebrate. And yes, this will be a date.”
To my great relief, she smiled. “Where? Is what I wore to the dance okay?”
“It’s a surprise. And yes, that outfit would be fine. In fact, it looks very sexy on you.”
Beck blushed before her expression shifted. “Oh, I forgot. I couldn’t get the bloodstains out of my white shirt. I gave it to Mom to use as a rag.”
I touched her arm. “Then let’s go into town a little early and shop for you.” When her frown didn’t change, I reminded her, “You have money of your own now, from the sale. You can spare the cost of one new shirt.”
She worried at her lip, speaking almost to herself. “While I was still homeschooling, we did a unit on budgeting and also on writing checks. But I can’t remember…”
I put my hand on her chest, bringing her face back to me. “We could talk about opening a checking account and figure out your budget when you get home tonight.”
“My budget.” She mulled the words over while I suppressed my amusement. She was so competent at the things she knew how to do, I sometimes forgot how the injury had affected her, especially in terms of doing new things. “Maybe I’ll decide about the bank after we talk.”
“Perfect,” I assured her, and she beamed.
Turning to look outside, she studied the sun. “I need to go, but I’ll be home by four.” She pulled me to her, kissing me tenderly. “You’re the exception to the kissing rule,” she said, grinning at my shocked expression. “Like you, I’ve figured out what we have is more than sex, and it makes me want to kiss you all the time. So I decided I just will.”
Speechless, I watched her go, hearing the scooter gradually fade into the distance. I’d hoped an extra four weeks would be enough time to calm things between us, but the warm softness of her mouth echoing through me made it seem unlikely. “Damn it, Beck,” I fussed. Damn it, Emily.
As we returned to our routine, plus benefits, I gradually relaxed into the idea of having something entirely new: a physical and emotional relationship with someone who genuinely cared about me. Released from the inner turmoil of not being able to touch her, and without the pressure of counting the days we had left, I found myself enjoying our time while feeling a sense of self-determination I’d never known. Telling Beck everything about Abby seemed to have freed me from being quite as constrained by experiences in my past. I felt free to react to each moment as it came. I spent more time outdoors, and the ocean no longer seemed a threatening presence.
Beck’s tender affection became ever more familiar and reassuring and right. Increasingly, I was less self-conscious as I returned her touches and kisses. My sense of the change was not exactly like a switch being thrown, but more like the intensity of a dimmer switch being gradually turned up.
Despite the improvements in my romantic side, my cowardly streak remained firmly intact. It was June I called to inform the gang—well, mainly Mel—of my change in plans. June giggled enthusiastically, and I knew the W’s would be happy for me too. But Mel’s protective side could come off as bordering on volatile, and while I’d appreciated it when she’d shielded me from an overzealous fan, her dislike for Beck had me expecting a furious phone call questioning my motives and my sanity. I proofed the final version of Leigh’s novel while I waited for the proverbial shoe to drop. When it didn’t happen, I felt increasingly edgy during the quiet of the days, but at Beck’s late afternoon greeting, my world seemed to settle. She’d made my time here nearly perfect, and I started thinking of ways to repay her. Date night would be my first real test.