April:
a little. I kinda want her to have a fun romp on the sack, as mom used to say
June:
Mom used to say that???
April:
baby girl, mom was a huge erotica reader. She used to say way more than that.
On that note, I must go. I have a very sexy man waiting in bed for me.
June:
Why don’t you rub it in my face a little more
April:
I would never
Xx
I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. These two could turn a grocery list into a novella.
So I type.
Me:
Sorry to disappoint. I fell asleep.
Also, this is not a why-choose or a love triangle.
The typing bubble appears instantly.
June:
Good morning sunshine.
Never say never.
For all you know, it may turn into a throuple
I groan into my pillow, then mutter, “God help me.”
Neptune lets out a sleepy huff and shifts in his bed.
And despite myself, I smile.
It’s just a few hours later when Gavin parks his truck outside the Coast Guard station, and the first thing I notice is that it doesn’t look like a station at all.
It looks like a home.
White siding, a low roof, wide windows framed with flower boxes spilling over with color. Bright blooms, green vines, neatly trimmed hedges. There’s a small garden out front that looks carefully tended, like someone genuinely cares about how this place feels, not just how it functions. It doesn’t feel official or institutional. It feels warm. Lived in.
I find myself wondering who takes care of it. Who waters the flowers, trims the hedges, and makes sure it looks this inviting every morning?
We’re right on the bay, the water stretching out in front of us, calm and blue, boats drifting lazily in the distance, and beyond it all, rising over the water, is the bridge.
