“I wish you guys would stop calling it a pond. It’s a lake. I mean, you have rowboats for it, for God’s sake.”
We amble across the lawn that slopes away from the house and down toward the “pond.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Owen says as he takes his arm from around my waist and shoves his hands in his pockets.
Oh, no. My stomach plummets like a ten-ton rock. This is it. The moment I’ve been dreading. The moment he tells me he has to go back to San Francisco permanently. I’ve always known it was inevitable and that we’ve been living in a fantasy world. But it doesn’t stop me wanting to sink into the ground and disappear, to avoid hearing what he’s about to say.
He looks straight ahead. “I’m not sure it’s totally working with me being away from the office all the time.”
I clutch my tea mug with both hands and swallow hard. “I thought you seemed to be making out okay.” I turn to take in his profile. “But, I guess I don’t really know how it all works.”
Owen points to a bench in the shade of a huge tree that has a perfect view down to the lake and the trees beyond. “Let’s sit.”
I’m grateful for the seat to support my wobbly legs, and it might help stop my head from spinning. The world I’ve allowed myself to dive headfirst into is about to be ripped away.
An engraved plate on the back of the bench glints in the sunlight.
“Who were Eleanor and Charles?” I read the rest of the inscription out loud. “‘They would have loved to sit here with us.’”
“Tom and Walker’s parents.”
“Oh, God. I should have guessed. Sorry.”
Neither of us talks for a moment as we both take in the view.
“It’s beautiful here.” I flail to fill the silence. “The perfect place for family gatherings. And the way Maggie and Jim are opening it up for community events like today is wonderful.” I tighten my grip on the mug to stop my hands from shaking. “They’re amazing people. You are all—”
“Summer.” He turns to face me, takes my mug and sets it on the grass at his feet, then holds both my hands.
My head drops. I’m too queasy to even look at him. I stare down at our fingers instead, laced together, right where they belong.
He strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. “I’m worried about saying the wrong thing here.”
I squeeze my eyes tight closed, as if it will shut out the inevitable.
“Anyway—” There’s a nervous tremor in his voice.
“It’s okay.” No point putting him through the torture of an explanation. “I understand.” I lift my head. His face is a blur. “It was always too good to be true.”
“What was?” He sounds like he has no clue what I’m talking about.
“If you need to go back, I understand.” I take a breath, but it gets stuck in my throat, and I half choke and cough.
He rubs my back and chuckles. “No. No. Don’t be silly. I don’t want to go back.”
I draw in a deep breath to confirm I’ve regained use of my lungs. But I’m not sure I heard him correctly. “Tell me that again?”
“I’m worried you might think this is a bit much. Because you’re so independent and everything.” He squeezes my hands, pulls them up to his lips for a kiss, then holds them under his chin as he continues to talk. “I’ve arranged things with Elliot so I can take a year off. Well, kind of off. Work a lot less, at least.”
I must be blinking like a stunned cartoon character who’s been hit over the head with a frying pan. “You want to stay? For ayear?”
“Well, if it’s too long, then I—”
“Of course, yes. Of course, it’s not too long. Of course, you can.”
“Working remotely is hard. It would be better if I was either all there, or all not there. So, since I’m exhausted after these last few years of non-stop work, and you’ve shown me there’s more to life…”
He pauses to tip his head and lift one shoulder in a half shrug.
