Page 58 of Summer Romance
I have never felt like this before. Not even close. Not with Pete, not with Jimmy Craddock. Never. I don’t think I could have stayed married to Pete for one week if I’d known this existed, a person who was clearly designed specifically for me.
We lie in this perfect space for a while, until I am fighting sleep. I don’t want to stop feeling the way his arm circles my back and holds me to him. Like I’m a precious thing worth keeping. I stroke my hand across his chest, memorizing its contours, and he examines the charms on my bracelet.
“Let me guess, you were into fairies?”
“School play. Third grade.”
“Ah. I remember the soccer. What’s the ship? A cruise?”
“No. When I was ten my mom surprised me by pulling me out of school and taking me to seeTitanic. It was a good movie, kind of long I remember, but we had a really fun day. So she designed this charm as a Christmas gift.”
“She designed all of these?”
“She did. She was a little over-the-top about everything in my life. It all mattered. Like she was so focused on all the little moments. Maybe because she was older, or maybe because it was just me.”
He’s holding the wedding dress charm. “Can we take this one off?”
“Nope. It’s part of the story.” I roll onto his chest so I can look at him. He doesn’t seem to mind what I said. “I’m glad she lived long enough to see my life play out.”
“Well, it’s not over,” he says. “There’s room for more.” I look at the empty links between the baby boy charm and the clasp. Wide open space.
I rest my chin on my hands and we are nose to nose. “We didn’t get any work done today,” I say.
“You’re fired,” he says, and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I’ll give you another chance if you spend the night.”
I kiss him again, because I cannot stop.
“We need food,”Ethan says at five.
“And maybe a little daylight,” I say.
“How’s this? I’ll get up and go forage for food in town if you promise you’ll spend the night.”
“Of course I’m spending the night,” I say.
He pulls me close and kisses my neck. “Thank God.”
When he’s goneout for food, I acclimate myself in the giant kitchen. I run my hands over the cabinetry and the smooth marble countertops. I open and close both dishwashers and check the wine refrigerator to see what’s in there. There’s a separate refrigerated drawer that just keeps sodas cold. It’s a lot of house. I let myself imagine living here with Ethan. I like the guest room more than that overwhelming master bedroom. We’d live down here and my kids would be upstairs. At night we’d swim and cook outside, and my kids could walk to school. I’d like to plant blue hydrangeas in the garden beyond the pool. While I’m engaging in this daydream, I’ve taken all of the glasses out of the cupboard and rearranged them the way I like. Juice glasses to the left and then water and then wine. The way the clock goes.
I don’t hear Ethan come in, and he’s standing there with a grocery bag, watching me. “Are we working?”
“A little,” I say. He comes and puts his arms around me and it feels like he’s been gone forever.
“What do you want to do first? Eat or swim?” he asks.
“Eat,” I say.
We eat outside, plates on the coffee table by our two armchairs. Same spot, and everything’s different.
33
Ethan shows up at my house on Monday morning when I’m back from camp drop-off. He’s standing at the kitchen door backlit by the sun. Dog on a leash, two coffees in hand. He takes my breath away. In one movement he puts the coffees down, drops the leash, and pulls me into his arms.
“Today we do no work,” he says with his arms around my waist and his lips hovering over mine.
“I’m pretty sure we did no work on Saturday,” I say, and kiss him.
“See? And I loved Saturday.” We’re interrupted by a text. It’s Phyllis: It’s time I met him.
