I read the message at the bottom.
If you want to talk, I’m here.Either way, I’m sorry, Henry.
“I caught her taping it to the door,” Marnie says softly.“She was worried about causing another asthma attack.”
“She seemed genuinely upset,” Dot adds.
“So, what’re you going to do?”Marnie asks slowly.
I take a deep breath.“Get some answers, I hope… Lock up for me?”
“Go get her, tiger,” Dot says.
“Only don’t be an angry tiger,” Marnie adds.“Be a purring kitten.Listen to what she has to say, huh?”
I thank the ladies for their support and advice as I’m heading down the hall and out the door.
I’ve imagined seeing Venus again thousands of times.In my reunion fantasies, anger would rule, fueling my words.I’d accuse her of being exactly what my friends used to say—cold, calculating, and emotionless.How else could she have left me like that?
But when my eyes find her, glowing in the afternoon sun and in vivid color, like she might be a mirage, it’s not anger that rules me.Not even close.
It’s relief.I’m fucking relieved.She’s okay.I’m okay.We’re together.
She looks surprised that I showed.She slides off the stool and meets me at the boat’s edge.Her lovely, tattooed arm reaches for me on the pier.
“Henry, I-I’m glad you’re here.”A weak smile emerges as she motions to the boat.“See?This way, I can’t run.Come with me?”
I use the wordboatgenerously here.It’s a flat-bottomed floating dock with a bar, barstools, an outer railing, a grass hut overhead, and an almost laughable outboard motor.
Still, I take her hand and step aboard.
Finally, face-to-face with this confounding and devastating woman, ready to demand my answers and tell her exactly how shitty she made me feel, I do the fucking unthinkable.
The relief of her drives me straight into her arms.
Her breath hitches against my bearded cheek as I clasp her against me—I have to, to make sure she’s real.I latch on to her, my hands roaming over exposed skin, rough fabric, and soft curls, unsure where to settle.Her hands lock around my midsection, bringing me closer.
“Henry,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
“I can’t believe it’s you.Earlier, I panicked.Sorry.”
“Me, too,” she says.“It was my dad.”
“I know.”
“A misguided attempt to reunite us,” she goes on, still pressed to me tightly.“Are you okay now?”
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
I hesitate, dragging away from her slowly.I catch hints of rosemary in her hair and roses on her skin.Her glassy green eyes widen as she takes me in, and she smiles with what seems like relief, too.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, her breath hitting my lips as I leave her.
I want to say it back, but I don’t.How could she have missed me when she’s the one who left?
Still, my fingers trace her as we pull apart—her bare shoulders, her arms, over her bracelets, and to her fingers.They mingle together, like old friends, as we soak each other up.Her sun-toasted skin, her softness, her tender smile, and the tears brimming in her eyes—this updated version of her, lovely, artsy, emotional, overlays Venus of the past.She’s no longer the awkward, blank-faced girl from high school—the one no one understood but me.She’s different, and somehow, still as perfect as I remember.
Her bold, green eyes watch me as mine travel to the cheeks I loved touching, the full, pink lips I loved kissing, and her dimpled chin that I often ran my finger over.Her hair is all over the place, held loosely by a scarf, but I love the way the tendrils dance around her face in the breezes.
