“Not really.”
“But it is.” She pets my hand. “Because you’re alive. And that’s a fucking gift. Oh, relax, Margo.Fuckis a great word. Use it more.”
A laugh breaks from me, sounding more like a sob. But I love the way Mom can set everyone straight without falter.
The front door opens with a clatter, bringing in a gust of cold air and happy laughter. Neil, Jan, May, March, and June clamber inside, all noise and life.
And on their heels, walking with a somber, almost reluctant gait as though he’s not sure he’ll be welcome, is August. Our eyes meet across the expanse of chatting family. My heart turns over and my pulse kicks in.
Those impossibly beautiful eyes of his are uncharacteristically reserved, but I don’t miss the way he homes in on me, or how a small smile hovers at the edges of his fine lips. Like he’s so happy to see me but won’t let himself fully show it until I give him a signal.
Tenderness swells so hard and fast it hurts my chest. My lips lift in return before wobbling. August steps forward, moving past his siblings. Apparently, seeing me on the verge of crying is his hard limit for staying away.
“Just in time,” Margo announces to her brood. “You all can help finish assembling the tortellini.”
Groans fill the air. I rise and, holding August’s gaze, glance toward our room before heading that way. Mom squeezes my hand as I leave the table.
Thirty-Eight
Pen
We don’t say anything until we’re shut in our room. I head to the center of the space before turning to face him. He studies me a moment, the dark slashes of his brows lowering over cool eyes.
“Are you okay?”
The sound of his voice has my heart leaping. I press a hand to my chest and hope he can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I’m all right. August, I’m sorry I told you to go—”
“Can I hold you?” His expression tightens, and he takes a step forward. “We don’t have to talk. I just want to hold you.”
My lower lip wobbles before I bite it hard and nod. I don’t know who moves first but I walk into his arms, and he cuddles me close, pressing his lips to the top of my head. Still carrying a hint of frost, he smells of lake water and coffee. I snuggle closer, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“I’m sorry,” I say. And then start to cry.
“Penelope.” He cups the back of my head in his big hand and strokes my back with the other.
“I’m sorry.” I sob, burrowing my face into the wall of his chest. “So sorry.”
He stills, realizing that I’m talking about more than just us, then he adjusts his hold so I’m somehow closer. “I know it hurts. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.”
When I sob harder, he dips down, kisses my damp temple. “He’s a pathetic asshole. You’re the very best of him, and he’ll never get it.”
Shuddering, I settle, letting the feel of August rocking me slowly sink into my tense limbs.
“I know that’s not enough,” he says in the quiet. “And I fucking hate that I can’t make it better.”
“But you do.” My voice crackles with tears, and I lick my swollen lips before leaning back to meet his eyes. “You always do, Pickle. You walk into a room, and I feel it. Know it. And I’m... better.”
August’s eyes close as though he’s taken a blow. He rests his forehead against mine and cups my cheeks with his hands. “You don’t know how good it is to hear that.”
I hug him tighter. “Iamsorry I sent you away. I was freaking out and I just needed a moment.”
“You can have that anytime.” He rubs my wet cheeks with his thumbs. “I shouldn’t have pressed you when you weren’t ready.”
“No, you can. I like that you care. It’s just my dad—” My voice breaks, and I take a deep breath. I don’t want to cry over him anymore.
“Come here.” Grabbing a box of tissues by the bed, he takes my hand. Gently, he leads me to the big armchair by the window and sits down before pulling me into the shelter of his lap. I lean against him, and he palms my hip as I blow my nose and settle.
We sit quietly, watching the gray skies roil outside the window. Ripples spread over the lake as strong gusts come down the hills. Slowly, steadily, I relax into August. He’s warm now, solid and comforting beneath me. When I’m calm, I sit up and place a hand on his chest to feel the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat.
