I trail a finger down his stomach, the muscles tightening under me. “You give such…great…” I lean toward his ear, my hand stopping right above his belt. “Cooking advice.”
His chest vibrates next to me. “That all?”
“I guess you now make passable braids, too.”
“Wow. A real catch, aren’t I?”
“Yeah. You really are.” My next breath is heavy.
His gaze alternates between my eyes and my lips, but I interrupt the moment by gasping at a shooting star that crossed the sky in my periphery. It was so bright, there’s no way he missed it. The sight always makes me so giddy, even if I know they’re nothing but burning rock.
“Make a wish,” Eli says, voice low.
“Have you already made yours?”
He nods, his gaze never leaving mine.
Since I started trying to get pregnant, all my wishes have gone to the same place. Birthday candles, eyelashes, four-leaf clovers, 11:11s… Gone to an aimless goal. This time, my wish is looking right at me, yet it feels just as out of reach.
Eli seems to realize this too, because he only tucks me closer to him.
I clear my throat. “Remember the first time we did this together, and you wished for a dog?” I was disappointed. While he’d wished for a pet like Dottie, I’d wished for him.
His irises are indistinguishable from his pupils, from the sky above and the ocean forward. “Baby, there’s no moment with you I don’t remember.”
I don’t know who moves first. Is it my fingers tangling in his hair, or his leg wrapping around my thighs? Do his lips reach for mine first, or is it my pelvis that starts rocking against his?
We kiss like two people inhaling all the air they can before diving underwater, like we know no matter how many wishes we get tonight, this is the end. Pressure builds behind my eyes, in my chest, and those emotions turn into frantic touches. It’s the opposite of how we were in his guest bedroom. We take, and take, and take. Somehow, he’s gotten on top of me, lips dragging from my chin to my neck, then to the top of my breasts. I stretch back, wanting him everywhere, but also needing him to stay close. He wastes no time tugging my loose, flowery skirt up and palming me through my lace underwear.
“You and that public indecency kink,” I say on an exhale.
“Only for you.”
Before I can protest, his head disappears under my skirt, making me see more stars than there are above me.
After, we lay once more on the ground, this time with half my body lying on top of his chest, our legs tangled. His fingers are tracing soft circles on my back, covering my skin with goosebumps. Hours could have passed, and I wouldn’t know. I don’t want to move. As if time could stop, and we could remain in this limbo forever if we remain still. His heartbeat is a slow metronome under my ear, asloud as the wild currents below. The eye of the storm, and yet no place will ever feel this peaceful.
His fingers on my back finally still. “I can’t watch you leave tomorrow.” The sound of his swallow is louder than anything else. “I can’t.”
I don’t want to look at him.Ican’t. Not when I know it could reflect even just a fraction of the hurt that’s ravaging my chest.
“It’s okay.” I force my voice to remain steady. “It’s probably better this way.”
He doesn’t move to look at me, either. A precarious bubble has surrounded us; one made of words unsaid and feelings better left hidden. If he so much as looks at me, he’ll see everything, and I think it might be the same if I did him. We can’t do that to the other. Leaving is already hard as it is.
I close my eyes and inhale the sweet smell of his skin once more.
Keira was right. I played a careless game. No matter how much I’ve always tried, I was never good at not falling in love with Eli Grant.
Chapter 40
Dawn has barely won over night by the time I make it to my car, hues of purple coloring the areas of sky visible between the clouds. I’d already packed my things yesterday during the day, and it’s a good thing I did, because there’s no way I would’ve been able to when Eli and I went back inside well into the middle of the night. By that point, neither one of us could disentangle themselves from the other. When we made it to bed, we didn’t talk. We didn’t acknowledge what the morning held, or how this would be the last time we did this. We brushed our teeth side by side, his gaze catching mine in the mirror, and despite it all, he succeeded in making me smile once more. And then we wrapped each other under the blankets, his chin on my shoulder, his hand on my stomach, holding me just a little too tight.
When I slipped out this morning, I wasn’t able to look at him. I wanted to—God, I wanted to—but I knew if I did, I’d never make it out the door. I’d have dragged it out, woken him up and asked for a solution, only to once again come to the conclusion that thereisno solution. Not seeing him allowed me to pretend I’d see him later tonight, when he’d be back from work while I played with Zoe. He’d come in, give each of us a kiss on the cheek, then get startedon dinner, not caring that he’d been cooking all day, because this time, it was for us, and that made all the difference in the world.
The outside air is cold, the wind even worse than last night, too sharp for an end-of-August day. I rush into my car, boxes of things from Ruth’s hiding most of my rear view. I bring my hands to the steering wheel, then force myself to breathe.
My attention is dragged to a car pulling up in Ruth’s driveway. Out comes a man who must be in his late thirties or early forties, carrying two cups of coffee inside. Not Ruth’s house.His. The front door opens before he reaches it, and a woman in pajamas I assume is his wife welcomes him in with a kiss. The smile that reaches my lips is bittersweet. Ruth might not be here anymore, but another family will occupy her place, making more happy memories there. I hope they jump in the water, use the firepit and watch the movies while eating candy. Hope they love it as much as I did. Wherever Ruth is, I know she’s smiling, too.
