“Home,” I say. “The water, where it’s quiet and peaceful.”
At least I thought this was home. But now that I’m with Silvie, I think home is wherever she is. She makes me feel like I can have it all with her.
Her fingers keep moving, over patterns that don’t have names, shapes that only make sense to me. “And these?”
“Those were survival,” I admit. “Times I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I kept going anyway.”
She rests her head on my chest again. “I like that you have these.”
I pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ve never really explained them to anyone before.”
“I like being the first,” she murmurs.
So do I.
We stay like this until the sun begins to rise, the ceiling fan turning lazily overhead.
“I’ve got to get to yoga,” she murmurs. “Are you surfing today?”
“No, I’ve got to catch up on bar stuff,” I admit.
Eventually, we drag ourselves out of bed. She disappears into the bathroom, and I take a minute to steady myself. This feels dangerously like love and a real marriage. Like I could get used to this.
When she comes out, wearing a new yoga top and bottoms, I almost drag her back to bed. I pull her to me and kiss her softly. “I’ve got something to show you.”
I lead her down the hall, and she says, “What is it?”
I open the door to my rarely used office. Her office now.
She goes quiet.
“I figured you’d need a space to work,” I say. “Somewhere that’s yours.”
I’d had Marina’s brothers clear it out and set it up with a new desk and chair. It’s not much, but I wanted to make my space more her space, too.
She turns and takes it all in, her eyes shining. “You did this? For me?”
“Well, yeah. Of course. I know you need to work here,” I say, leaning against the door.
“You didn’t have to do this. I can work from anywhere, Cal.”
“I wanted to,” I say simply.
She steps closer and wraps her arms around me. “You’re really good at making room for people.”
I swallow. “Only the ones who matter. You matter to me, Silvie.”
Her arms pull me tighter at that. “Thank you.”
“What are you doing today?” I ask.
“I’m going to the crochet club with the Bees later,” she says casually. “Then I’m stopping by your mom’s with coffee.”
Something pulls in my chest when she mentions my mom, as it always does.
“She’ll love that,” I say.
“We have so much to catch up on,” she says, like it’s obvious.
