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“A fort would be cool,” she says. “Maine had a lot happening in that war. I read about it on my tablet a few days ago.”

Margot meets my eyes over the kids’ heads.

There’s no way we can say no, and she knows it.

“I guess it’s history day, guys,” she says, smiling up at Lee. “Thank you. I can’t believe I came here so often as a kid and we never went!”

“It’s worth the trip,” he says. “Lots to do and really informative.”

“We’ll finish the museum first,” I tell the kids.

Dan’s shoulders immediately slump.

“But the fort would be socool,” he insists.

“It won’t take long, kiddo.” Margot nods at the sign. “You didn’t even see the mini aquarium yet.”

That’s enough to get their attention, and they sprint off again, Sophie slightly behind Dan in her bulky shoes.

Lee nods at us politely and heads for the entrance.

As we follow the kids at a more leisurely pace, I slide Margot’s hand into mine. Her fingers curl around mine.

Neither of us say anything.

We haven’t talked about what this means or what it’s meant to be.

Hell, I’m not sure we need to.

We both know it shouldn’t be anything.

It can’t last, and it won’t.

Like the old sailboat out back, we’re two strange ships passing in the night, flashing our lights to feel less lonely.

But her hand feels warm in mine, and for now, it’s a good day.

Today, we make our own meaning, however temporary.

That’s rare enough to make me stop fussing and live in the moment.

It’s rainingby the time we leave the fort two hours later, which turned out to be larger and more interesting than the fishing museum.

Guess there’s no faulting Lee for his recommendation.

The windows are cracked in the back, letting in the fresh, earthy scent of fading leaves, and the kids bicker back and forth lightheartedly.

“I can’t believe it closes at one,” Dan says in disgust. “Who’s done looking around a place that big bythen?”

“I know, Bud.” I flash Margot an amused glance. She has her elbow braced against the door, her hair tossed by the wind.

This is one of those precious moments you only remember after it’s gone. Like passing scenes from a movie you barely remember and never get to replay.

Right now, I can’t remember the last time we had a day this peaceful.

Getting away from New York and the routine back there was the best decision I’ve made all year. And not just because of the bombshell beside me.

“The drums were so cool,” he says. “Like, so cool with their sheepskins. And so old. And did youseethe eagles painted on the side? Can’t believe they’re two hundred years old and not worn out!”