THE FOLLOWING SUMMER…
The sun glintedoff the blue water and a light breeze rustled through the tropical foliage. Waves crashed against the sand, their soothing rhythm lulling me into deep relaxation. A bead of sweat dripped down my back, but I didn’t mind the heat. I was stretched out on a lounge chair on a beach in Hawaii, watching the love of my life.
Penelope’s easel was wedged into the sand to keep it steady. Dressed in nothing but a pink and orange bikini, with a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, she tilted her head, scrutinizing her work.
She’d captured the beach beautifully, adding her signature touch of magic to the scene. I didn’t know how she did it, but her paintings always had a certain glow, as if she could see the beauty of the natural world in a way the rest of us couldn’t.
Our wedding had gone off without a hitch. We’d kept with what had become a Haven family tradition and had it at SalishanCellars. The winery had been the perfect setting, and the weather couldn’t have been better.
Watching her walk down the aisle had been an intense experience. It had hit me just how close I’d come to missing out on the best thing that had ever happened to me. A few wrong moves—a few different choices—and I’d have been heading to South Carolina, alone, convinced I was meant to be that way. That I didn’t need anyone else. It wasn’t worth the risk.
But Pen? She was worth everything.
She’d been stunning on our wedding day. But to be honest, I was enjoying her on the beach in a bikini just as much.
What can I say? My wife is hot.
She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Are you bored?”
I grinned. “Not even a little bit.”
“Are you sure? I can finish this later if you want to do something else.”
“Baby, I’m good. Take as long as you want.”
“What do you think so far?” She gestured to her painting with the brush.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. I’m pretty happy with it.”
“You should be.”
She used her forearm to brush a strand of hair off her face and managed to swipe her cheek with blue paint. She didn’t seem to notice. Still grinning, I shook my head. She was so damn cute.
I half dozed in the sun while she worked, cracking my eyes open every now and then to appreciate her painting—and her curves in that bikini.
The beach started to get busier as people found places to sit around us. As much as I would have loved to be on a private island, alone with Pen, we were teachers, not billionaires.And neither of us minded. We’d spent the week snorkeling, sightseeing, lounging on the beach, and eating delicious food.
Slow, lazy mornings, tangled in the sheets together were the best part.
It all had me thinking. We were starting a new season of life together, and that was great. But was I ready for the next big thing?
I was. Gazing at my wife as she painted, I imagined her with our baby in her belly. I thought about what it would be like to bring a new little Haven home with us. I wanted that. I wanted to have a family with her.
But was she ready? I wasn’t going to push her into anything. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized Iwasready. And I hoped she would be, too.
She stepped back from her painting and tilted her head again. “I think it’s finished.”
“I love it.”
“Thank you. I kind of love it, too. Are you ready to go back to the room? It’s getting a little windy.”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
I stood to pack up our things, when a couple walking close to the waterline caught my eye. They were hand in hand, and I squinted, wondering if I was seeing things.
“Pen, is that…?”
