Chapter Twenty
My first weekin Montauk was strange for many reasons. The summer, at least as it pertained to vacationers and beachgoers, was over. The town was settling back into its sleepy ways, and that brought a degree of quiet I hadn't anticipated. I missed the frenetic pace of the Beltway and my office, and often considered abandoning this adventure and returning home. But then I found a balance of working, swimming, and sleeping that felt manageable. Comfortable, even.
I didn't look for April once.
That wasn't completely accurate. I took pains to avoid passing the bakery and local yoga studio, but I couldn't stay away from the place where it all started. Every morning, I paddled out to the spot where I'd sat on my board weeks ago. I harbored no illusions about riding the waves now, but I hoped to see the pretty dark-haired girl as she searched for seashells.
She never crossed my path, and after that first week, I wasn't certain she'd come back to Montauk. I'd held up my end of the bargain by turning over the intel without implicating her in any way, and it should've been safe for her to return to life as she'd known it. She deserved the life she'd built here.
When my second week in Montauk rolled around, I was ready to go after her again.
My first stop was the bakery. I spent an extended amount of time surveying the goods on display while sneaking glances at the cake decorating work station, but didn't see April. I bought a huge box of pastries, and hoped it came with a side of information.
"Is April in today?" I asked the cashier. "I was thinking about ordering something special, and I know she's the best when it comes to fondant roses. My mother's birthday is coming up."
The cashier wiped her hands on her apron and shook her head. "No, April had a family emergency," she said. "Such a sweetheart, that one. She's back on the schedule next week, and not a minute too soon. Everyone loves her work." She pulled a notebook from behind the counter and pointed at me with her pencil. "Do you want to leave your name and number? She can give you a call."
I hefted the bakery box and moved toward the door. The promise of her nearness—even if it was days away—activated corners of my heart that had gone dormant. "I'll check back," I said. "Thank you."
With the pastries abandoned on the passenger seat of my SUV, I marched through the village and toward the yoga studio. The class schedule was posted on the storefront window, but I couldn't find April's name listed there.
That left only the loft apartment, and I climbed each step with a percolating sense of nervous hope. I wanted her to be there more than anything, but I had no idea what I'd say or do if she was. At the top of the staircase, I peered inside but found no evidence of her return.
I took my time getting home. I followed the coast road for miles, taking in the towns and villages as I worked through my disappointment. I convinced myself it was temporary, that I'd find April in due time, that my life had meaning and purpose even if it didn't have her.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon when I pulled into the cottage's gravel driveway. The long-forgotten bakery box in hand, I made my way inside with the singular goal of kicking back on the porch for the next few hours. The first stop was the refrigerator, and I hooked my fingers around the necks of two beer bottles. This felt like the right time to get good and drunk.
"You should really lock your doors."
I froze, blinking at the contents of the refrigerator while the sound of her voice sent my thoughts skittering away from me. Pivoting, I slammed the refrigerator shut to find April curled up with a book on my sofa.
April.
On my sofa.
In my house.
"I doubt that would stop you," I said. There was more ice in my voice than I'd intended. If April noticed, her slightly arched eyebrow was the only reaction.
She smiled and set the book down. "You're probably right about that." Pointing at the bottles I was holding, she asked, "Is one of those for me?"
April, honey.
"That depends," I replied, my feet still nailed to the kitchen floor as my gut churned with longing. "Where've you been?"
"Chicago," April said with a shrug. "Tali's guest bedroom never fails to sort out my problems." Her voice trailed off as she stood and walked toward me. She was wearing a dress, and at some point in the future—when I had the brain cells necessary to think beyond my most primitive needs and wants—I'd remember how amazing she looked. How the fabric swirled around her thighs and the v-neck skimmed her breasts.So luscious.
"Are you staying?" I couldn't shake the sharp tone from my words, even if I was a breath away from dropping to the floor and worshiping at her feet.
Come here, honey.
"Well…" She was leaning against the countertop, just within reach, and something shifted inside me. It could've been my cold, cynical heart thawing or the knots in my neck loosening, and both were reasonable explanations. But there was more to it. "I've already taken a few drawers and most of the closet space. I hope you don't mind."
Take everything. Take it all. Take me.
"Get the fuck over here," I ordered, my words rushing out in a pant. I set the beers on the countertop and caught a fistful of her dress, tugging her into my arms. "I love you."
"I know," she said, her lips on my jaw. "You came back for me, just like you'd promised. Even after everything I—"
"Shut up," I said, driving my fingers through her hair. My lips met hers—sweet, sweet honey—and my body ached for her. That was it. I was making room for her, moving around my stiff ways and rusty edges, and possessing her. "Just shut up and tell me you love me, too."
Her shoulders rocked with quiet laughter. "Should I shut up?" she asked, her words bubbling over with laughter. "Or should I tell you I love you?"
I hooked an arm under her backside, and her legs twined around my waist. "Shut up about everything else and tell me how much you love me," I said as I charged for the bedroom.
"I love you so much that I won't point out you're seriously favoring your left leg and clearly need some time on my table," April said when I set her on the blue quilt. "You know me. You know how much I want to look after that leg." Her eyes dropped and she licked her lips. "How much I want to look after you."
"I'll let you," I said. I pushed her back and tore her panties out from underneath her, grinning when her eyes widened. "Just promise you won't stab me again, honey."
