Page 105 of The Summer of Us

She sighed. “I know.”

“Come back to bed,” I murmured in her ear, flicking my tongue over the sensitive lobe.

“In a minute. I want to watch the sun rise over the Thames.”

“Fine.” I rolled my hips into her. “Then I’ll show you something else rising over the Thames.”

She gasped, then she giggled.

“I love my honeymoon.”

I tightened my arms around her. “I love you.”

* * *

Two years later

I pulled up to the house, the sight of it never failing to put a smile on my lips. I parked the car and went into the house, not surprised to find it empty. I knew I would find my wife in one of two places—by the water or by her trees.

I stopped in the kitchen and shrugged off my suit jacket, draping it over a chair. The sun glinted off the water in the pool in the backyard. It was still and serene-looking, but I knew this weekend, as usual, it would be full, with lots of people laughing and splashing.

I walked through the family room, the inviting colors soothing and welcoming. Sunny had decorated the entire house with a beachy, warm vibe. Lots of blues and greens with ivory and gray undertones. Comfortable, well-used furniture. Fireplaces, both inside and out, that were used year-round since she loved to watch the flames dance. Lots of pictures were scattered around—of us, our family and friends. Memories of our life together. She had all my mother’s paintings on the walls, even a few we had found in secondhand shops. Each one we recovered was a treasure for me. Mementos of our travels were sprinkled throughout the house. A print from London, a sculpture from Greece, a thick tartan blanket from Scotland. All of the additions made the place eclectic, warm—and us.

She made the house a home.

I walked out of the open doors, spying Sunny under her tree. I made my way over, studying her as I went. Sitting on a blanket, she rested against the trunk of the tree, her legs outstretched. She faced the water, the light breeze lifting her hair. I knew she had been to the bakery today. I had watched her come and go, resisting the urge to go find her and kiss her in the storeroom. Now that she only went in on occasion, I didn’t see her as much in the daytime, and I found myself missing her.

With my gentle encouragement, Sunny had given up the day-to-day running to Mack. He still controlled the kitchen, but he had lots of help. Lori and Shannon were still there and fulltime, along with three other staff members. Sunny handled all the marketing and finance and developed many of the new products they offered. She went in from time to time and helped out during the busier tourist time, but she now had a desk in the office here at home and worked in the kitchen a lot.

I was the official guinea pig for her attempts, and I loved it.

She volunteered at the community center fairly often. We had added a day care into the plans, and she loved spending time with the little ones, as well as talking to the teenagers. She was a favorite with many at the center—both staff and kids.

I was thrilled, knowing her life was easier now. I took my job as her husband very seriously. The caveman in me wanted her at home all the time, relaxed and stress-free, but I knew she would hate that. This was a good compromise for now. The day she decided she wanted something else, I was ready.

Emily now lived in Mission Cove, teaching at the local school. She also assisted at the community center, offering her services as a tutor. She lived in Sunny’s old apartment and loved to help out at the bakery. Sunny was thrilled to have her close. Hayley was in nursing school. I had paid off their student loans and financed Hayley’s continuing education. As their only “brother,” I felt it was the least I could do. Sunny had cried, the girls cried, but none of them objected. I was pleased to be able to look after my family, and I took my job as brother as seriously as I took my husband role.

Sunny glanced up, her smile warm and welcoming. I dropped to the blanket beside her, leaning over for a kiss hello.

“You were at the bakery,” I stated, reaching for the glass of iced tea beside her. “Yet no biscuits appeared on my desk, no visit from my wife to brighten my long, lonely day.”

She snorted, passing me the glass. “I saw you two hours prior, and I was in the bakery for a short time to pick up some paperwork. I had other errands to run. I hardly think you needed a visit.” She shook her head. “Abby was there, so don’t give me the lonely bit.”

I chuckled. “She was in and out all day. Jenny had something going on at school, so Abby was busy with her.”

Sunny chuckled. “She’s always busy.”

I had to agree. Abby and Michael had a rocky, angst-filled start, but once they both accepted the feelings they had, and Michael came to grips with the fact that he could love another woman, they had flourished. Abby adored his kids, and they, in return, soaked up that affection, giving it back to her in spades. The first time Jenny had called her “Mom,” Abby had wept in my arms for over ten minutes while telling me the story. Thinking it was something she would never have—a family of her own—I knew how special that was to her. Now married, she was entrenched in their lives. They were at our place a lot, Michael and I having grown closer, and she and Sunny best of friends.

Sunny sighed quietly, leaning against the bark of her tree, closing her eyes. I studied her for a moment, suddenly noticing the lines of fatigue on her face and the fact that she was paler than normal.

“Sunny?”

She didn’t open her eyes. “I feel you looking at me. I’m fine, Linc. A bit tired, but fine.”

“Then you need to rest more. You do too much for too many people.”

A smile tugged on her lips. She opened her eyes, the look she gave me warm and tender.