He shifted to face me and I could read the torment all over his face. “It will mean something to me when I can’t be with you anymore. Icareabout you, Sunny. I care so fucking much that I can’t even believe it most of the time.” He looked out at the yard, shook his head. “I will remember everyfuckingthing about you. I’ll remember every day I’ve spent with you, everything we did together. I’ll remember your hair and the way you laugh and how you feel next to me in the morning. There is nothing that could happen to me that would make me forget.”
Then stay with me because it’s going to break my heart when you go.Since I couldn’t ask that of him, I reached out a hand. He came over, laced his fingers with mine. “I know. Me too.”
We made our way inside and the dogs sprawled out on the kitchen floor, huffing, tongues lolling, tails giving exhausted, happy wags every few minutes. Beck and I sank into the sofa, his bicep under my head and our bodies pressed close together like we were trying to chase away the distance before it came for us. I made noises about finding a movie to watch but that involved leaving the safety of his embrace so we listened to crickets and cicadas, the passing cars, and the slide of his fingers through my hair.
Eventually, Beck leaned down to brush his lips over my temple, saying, “I do want to get married someday.”
That surprised me. More than I expected. I kind of thought he’d go hard for the untethered life since he seemed to embrace it with both hands. But then again, the things I wanted were contradictory as hell. I wanted to travel the entire world and live in a small town forever. I wanted to chase whimsy and swim in happy accidents, and I wanted to come home to constancy and stability. I wanted a man who lived thousands of miles away and I wanted him to love my weird, wonky side of the world as much as I did. I wanted him to love me as much as I loved him.
All I could say was, “Me too.”
His lips still on my temple, he asked, “What else do you want, storm cloud?”
I hummed, wiggled a shoulder. If only it was as simple as saying it out loud and making it real. But he wasn’t meant for this town the way I was. He didn’t love it and I couldn’t force it on him. “I don’t know,” I said because it was far less dangerous than the truth. “I guess I’ll just take it one chaotic adventure at a time.”
We stayed there on the couch until I could feel Beck’s stomach rumbling and I forced him to weigh in on Muffy’s cookie experiments. He didn’t “understand” the rosemary shortbread but he inhaled the gingerbread.
“When did Decker get married?” I asked as he moved on to a dark chocolate variation of our chocolate chip cookie. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around this.”
He blinked down at the cookie, frowning. “Six? Seven years ago? I’m not sure.”
“He’s been married forsix years?” I cried. “Who is this person?”
Beck shrugged like he was just as confused as I was. “I hardly know her. It happened around the time I was moving from being based in Europe to Asia, and I didn’t have a minute to get involved. Not that Dex would’ve allowed that anyway. He’s always been crazy protective of her.”
“I cannot believe the town rumor mill failed me on this one.”
“I don’t think the town really knows her. She’s not from Friendship but they met here one summer. I don’t remember how that all happened. They went to the same college and then got married not long after he was drafted to the majors. Within two or three years, I think. I’m fuzzy on the timeline. Switching continents and hemispheres really fucked with me. They separated pretty quick.”
“Separated but not divorced,” I said.
“Right.” He brushed some pine nuts off the top of a tahini cookie. “I’m not sure why they haven’t finalized things.”
“Because they don’t want to?” I ducked to meet his eyes and give him my bestwhen are you going to wake up and realizethis is a goddamn second-chance love story waiting to happenstare. “Because they just need a reason to reconnect and remember how much they want to be together?”
Beck fired back with his bestyou’re imagining things and it’s scaring mestare. “I don’t think that’s the case.”
“It could be.” I handed him the last cookie and went into the kitchen to clean up. “You never know. This might be the push they need.”
“Maybe the push he needs is out a window,” he grumbled.
As I washed a week’s worth of teacups, Beck came up behind me, crossed his arms over my torso and rested his chin on my head. He let out a long breath and I allowed myself to believe that a single thought pinged between us right now, that we wanted everything to be different but also the same, andthatwould be perfect.Wewould be perfect.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” he asked, his words low and sleepy, like he was already tucked into my bed.
“I thought you couldn’t.”
“I can’t,” he said, miserable. “But I’m tired of being responsible for everyone. I just want to be responsible for you.” He let out a breath. “Can I stay?”
“That depends. Are you going to be stressed the whole time and sleep with your phone under your pillow?”
I felt him shrug, murmur something noncommittal. Then, “You can put my phone on your side.” He kissed the crown of my head, adding, “If they can’t survive one night without me, I have more problems than I thought.”
“If Dex hasn’t already passed out, he will soon,” I said, drying my hands.
Beck turned me to face him, his hands looped at the small of my back. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I just want to be here with you.”
We turned off the lights and locked the doors, and drifted toward the bedroom like we’d done this dance for ages and knew it even with our eyes closed. He fussed over my skirt like it was the source of all his pain and I chastised him for baiting me with those button-fly jeans. I claimed his t-shirt the second it flew over his head and—despite his grumbly glaring—I pulled it on. “Mine,” I said.
