“You cannot walk, wife,” I said. “That’s all the evidence I need.”
“It wasn’t that long ago that we would’ve ridden that thing all night.”
Two things happened when she said this. First, she dropped her hand to my abdomen and let it slide down until it stopped just north of my belt buckle. Second—and most importantly—my brain took the wordsridden all nightand made that my singular requirement for survival. Food, water, rest—none of it mattered. Not until she rode me all night long.
“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel next,” she said.
“Tell me you’re joking.” I managed to walk a straight, sober line while steering Shay away from the other rides.
“Oh, come on. The Ferris wheel is like a nap in comparison.” She dropped her voice, adding, “And the Hope Elementary principal is just over there, near the caramel apple cart. If she sees me, she’s going to want to talk about next year.”
“That’s not a topic you’d like to discuss?”
She shook her head, urging me toward the Ferris wheel. “Not yet. Not tonight.”
That response begged so many questions but asking them risked answers and there was a good chance I didn’t want to hear them.
When we reached the short line for the Ferris wheel—which looked only slightly less rickety than the tilt-a-whirl—Shay added, “Helen already has me scheduled for long-term assignments through the end of the school year.”
I ran my hand down her spine. “Are you happy with that?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” she said in a tone that suggested it wasn’t entirely fine. “I just—I didn’t expect everything to happen so fast. But it’s good. I get to know the kids instead of just popping in for a day or two. I like this. Day-to-day subbing probably would’ve been too chaotic for me. I need a little order in my classroom. It was the one thing Jaime and I could never agree on. She’s all right with some moderate mayhem.”
We stepped up to the platform and settled into a car. “Do you miss your old school?”
As the wheel started moving, Shay nodded. “Yeah. Of course. I loved that place. And all of my friends are there.”
I hooked an arm around her shoulders and played with the ends of her hair. “And the happy hour situation has to be better than anything we have around here.”
“That is true.” She gazed out at the carnival beneath us. Gennie hadn’t moved from the water gun game in at least thirty minutes. “Helen wants me for a permanent position next year.”
It was too much to hope for and I could barely stop myself from begging her to take the job. “What do you want?”
She shifted beside me, her elbow grazing my flank as she shook her wrist to free her charm bracelet from inside her sleeve. The feel of her squirming, even for the most innocent of reasons, sparked something hot and urgent inside me. “That’s the question I keep asking myself,” she said softly. “It’s kindergarten, though, and that’s my one true love.”
I held her wrist and drew my thumb over the charms on her bracelet. A starfish, a shamrock, an S in an artsy script, a wonky heart, and a star with a tiny diamond in the center. She always loved her stars. “Is this a decision you need to make soon?”
“No. Helen is the kind of principal who likes to clear the decks and check all the boxes as early as she can but she can’t formally offer me the position until the person currently in it gives her notice. It sounds like that won’t happen until June and that’s on the early side.” She dragged her fingertips down my leg like it was the most natural thing in the world. “But Helen still wants me to informally accept so she doesn’t have to worry about it later.”
The wheel slowed to a stop, and from this elevation we could see the calm waters of Friendship Cove in the distance. “So, you have time to think about it.”
“Yeah.” It seemed like she was finished with this topic but then she added, “It’s a good school. I like the staff and the kids. The families are great. It’s fun to bump into them at community events like this. I’ve never worked and lived in the same neighborhood, so this wasn’t something that happened to me until now. There’s a lot to think about. It wouldn’t be terrible to stay. It’s just a big change of plans.”
“Hey.” She glanced over, her brows lifted. I ran my fingers up the column of her neck and along her jaw. “We’re in a deathtrap carnival ride. We can figure out the future if we live to see tomorrow.”
When we kissed, it felt like the first time—but so much better. I sank into her, forgetting everything beyond us and this rusty car. We weren’t married for the wrong reasons. We weren’t faking it to get anyone off my back. And we weren’t giving life to my teenage pining. This moment had nothing to do with the kids we’d once been. This was real and true, and if I worked hard enough, I could ignore all the filthy, base urges blaring from the lizard portion of my brain. The ones I hadn’t been able to repress since that night in the pantry.
But I didn’t want to repress them, and if the stroke of Shay’s fingers on my leg was any indication, she didn’t want that either.
I dropped kisses to the corners of her mouth, her chin, down the creamy line of her neck. Slipping my fingers into her hair, I met her gaze. Her cheeks were pink—could be the crisp evening air, could be making out on a Ferris wheel—and her lips were parted, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths. She was perfect.
“Do you want to come back to the house with me tonight?” I stared into her eyes, searching for a flicker of reaction. She stared back, giving me nothing.
Then the Ferris wheel started turning again and the corners of her eyes crinkled. She smiled. “Yeah. I think so.”
chaptertwenty-two
Shay
