“At the office,” I add, still breathless.
“Might be weird, but sure.” He grins and then leans forward to drag his lips over my neck. In a sweet whisper, he says, “I love you, Mrs. Bennett.”
“I love you, Mr. Bennett.”
epilogue
Cal
Silvie lies on a towel,her legs stretched out, one hand resting on the small curve of her belly. She’s not showing much yet. Just enough that I notice when she shifts her weight. And I can’t stop noticing. I love everything about that woman.
I didn’t know it, but Silvie and her dad have been working to establish an office here in Coconut Beach as well as back in Manhattan. It appears that most of the board doesn’t mind the travel, and several have decided to move down here as well. This works out for Silvie, because she loves it here and says the beach air seems to soothe the nausea in a way Manhattan never could. So, we’re here for now. I’m surfing and she’s barefoot in the sand, the sun spilling over Coconut Beach, waking up the island.
I stare out at her and think of how we built this. I watch her close her eyes and tip her face toward the sun. Her hair lifts in the breeze, gold against the morning light, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more beautiful and powerful than the woman carrying our baby. The woman who could choose anyone and chose me.
I lay down my board and sit behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, pressing my chin into her shoulder.
She sighs and leans into me, not caring that I’m getting her wet.
“How’s the nausea today?”
“Manageable,” she says. “The ocean helps. I have no idea how, but it does.”
“It’s yours,” I tell her. “I bought it for you.”
She laughs softly. “You can’t buy the ocean, dork.”
“Watch me.”
She shakes her head and leans back into me, that simple trust that still feels unreal sometimes. For a long time, I braced myself for this to end. Because I never wanted to. But she isn’t.
We found a new place together in Manhattan. It’s more family-friendly, and she’s got a designer making it into a home for us. I’m expanding my cottage here as much as I can.Ourcottage. I told her we could find something bigger, but she assured me this was all we needed. She likes being close to my mom and Birdie, and I love that, too.
“You know,” she says casually. “We’re going to need to make the cottage a little bigger.”
I kiss her temple. “It’ll be fine. I’ve already talked to the contractor.”
“No,” she says, and there’s something mischievous in her voice. “Bigger.”
“We have plenty of room for the nursery.”
She turns toward me, eyes bright, and says, “The babies need more room.”
My brain catches on. “Babies?” I repeat.
She grins and reaches into the bag beside her, pulling out an ultrasound photo. She holds it up. “Babies.”
For a second, I just stare at the image of two blobs in the picture. It dawns on me that there are, in fact, two.
“Two?” I say again, because apparently, I’m speechless and only capable of a few words. “But I thought there was only one.”
“Me too,” she says with a chuckle. “But there was another little one hiding in there.”
“Holy shit.”
“We’re going to practically be outnumbered,” she teases.
I let out a breath that turns into a laugh. “There are two of us, Silvie. They don’t outnumber us.”
