Chapter Thirty-One
thirty-one
adrian
I pause at the top of the dune steps and watch Hope. She’s on her knees near the water’s edge, scooping wave-wet sand into a crooked tower, her shoulders working under the crisscross straps of her swimsuit. A hoodie lies on the sand next to her. My hoodie. The one I lent her and she held on to. Even when life pulled us apart, she held on.
I was in line at the café when I opened her text. Watching the clip on repeat made me miss hearing my number called, and I lost out on the last cinnamon bun, but it was worth it. We used to send each other photos all the time, and I know things will never be the same, but maybe this is a sign they can be even better.
“Pardon us.” A cheerful voice jostles me out of my musings. I step aside to let a group of women in floppy hats and overstuffed straw totes descend the weathered wooden steps. I kick off my canvas slip-ons, then stoop to retrieve them and head toward the water. A gaggle of fleet-footed sandpipers dart away at my approach, and Hope lifts her head and looks around, smiling when our gazes lock.
“You brought breakfast?” Curls whip across her face and she uses a sandy thumb to push them aside.
With a nod, I lift my chin toward the horizon. “How was the sunrise?”
She leans back on her heels and smiles up at me. “I love how that’s a standard greeting in beach towns, though it’s all about the sunsets where I come from.”
My heart trips at the word love like a metal detector calibrated to signal the tiniest hunk of iron. “Still jealous that you got to grow up with a beach in your backyard.”
“Not my backyard. But yeah, close enough.” Holding her hand out, she lets me haul her to her feet. “But you saw your share of summer vacation sunrises out here. No one wants to watch the sun set over a frozen Lake Michigan in January.”
“Not even you?”
“I mean, it’s still pretty gorgeous,” she says, and I don’t bother trying to hold my smile at her unabashed love of her home state.
“And cold.” Just thinking about the frigid evening she dragged me down to the beach to watch a winter sunset in Shoreline Dunes has me grateful for the hot July sun.
“Freezing,” she admits. She’s so beautiful in the soft morning light that I can hardly believe how lucky I am that we found our way back to each other. Filled with affection, I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her sandy knuckles.
A smile crinkles her eyes. “I thought you hated sand in your mouth.” Clutching my arm to steady herself, she brushes her thumb against my lips, but that just spreads it around. I try to hide my grimace when the sand grains trickle down into my beard, but she clucks her tongue.
“Hang on.” She bends over to swipe the hoodie off the ground and pops back up with a coy grin when she catches me looking. Lifting one of the sleeves to my mouth, she wipes at my face. “That’s better.” Placing her hands on my shoulders, she presses her soft lips to mine.
I keep my eyes open, watching hers flutter shut, vulnerable. On instinct, my free hand drifts to her waist and I gather her against me, wanting to keep her close, but the bag of pastries crinkles between us.
She lets out a groan against my mouth. “Please tell me we didn’t just crush a cinnamon bun.”
Loath to let her go, I step back and open the bag. Hope peers down into it with a forlorn expression. “Good news and bad news,” I say. “They ran out of cinnamon buns, but peach muffins are much more smush-resistant. No frosting to ruin.” Digging inside the sack, I procure a muffin with the buttery, ginger crumble topping mostly intact.
She makes a gimme motion and sinks her teeth into the top without bothering to remove the cupcake liner. I use my thumb to swipe a sugar crystal from the corner of her mouth, then lick it off, intrigued when her eyes track the movement.
Drawn by the food, a seagull swoops down and she gives the bird a glare that would make Marissa proud. Its only response is to cock its head.
I pull out a second muffin, making sure to hold it close lest the bird get any ideas.
“Another peach one?” she asks, once she’s swallowed.
I nod. “Knew you wouldn’t want to share.”
“Smart man.” She shakes out the hoodie with one hand, letting it catch the breeze, and lays it on the sand. She flops down with another don’t-even-think-about-it look at the gull, who cocks its head, beady eye trained on her, but doesn’t budge.
I settle in next to her on the wedge of fabric that she left open for me, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her bare legs, glistening with sweat in the rising heat. I take a bite of muffin to steer my mind toward public-beach-appropriate thoughts.
“Don’t want to wait to eat yours later?” Her eyes are playful. “Might get some sand in your teeth.”
“I think that ship has sailed.”
Her mouth drops open. “Did Adrian Hollis-Parker just utter a nautical pun?” She puts the back of her wrist to her forehead. “Be still my heart, I may just swoon.” And she does, collapsing backward onto the sand, her bare stomach bouncing with laughter.
“A man tries to loosen up and this is what he gets?” I pretend to glare out at the waves, but a smile tugs at my cheeks. Her fingers close around my wrist and she pulls me backward, onto my elbows.
“I like you earnest.”
I gaze down at her. “You do?”
Smiling, she traces her fingertip along my forearm. “I like how you’re stoic in the face of joviality while inside your soul is smiling.”
“You can see into my soul?” I tease, but she nods solemnly.
“I can, and I love what I see.” She goes still and so do I. For a moment, I can’t breathe. She gulps, her trachea bobbing beneath her delicate skin. Then the shadow of a cloud passes overhead and she sits up, rubbing her hands across her arms.
A moment lost. Or maybe it was never there, the imagined glimmer of a fish underwater, an angler’s hope. Was it wishful thinking to believe she was about to say the words I long to hear? She turns to me, lip caught in her teeth, and her eyes have lost their spark. “I have to tell you something.”
My mouth goes dry, the crumb topping gritty in my teeth. I don’t trust my voice, so I merely raise my brows, hoping I look encouraging and not desperately in need of confirmation she’s not having second thoughts.
“I got an interview,” she says. “At the lab in Santa Barbara.”
“With Dr. Oswald? I didn’t even know you’d applied.” I shouldn’t be surprised she hadn’t told me; we only just stopped tiptoeing around each other a few weeks ago.
“I haven’t told anyone but Zuri. And at the time, we weren’t together...” She’s picking at the muffin wrapper, and I hate that she’s nervous to tell me this.
“That’s awesome news.” I reach out to squeeze her knee in reassurance. “When’s the interview?”
She looks over. “You’re okay with it?”
We’re just starting over, and California is far away, but I’ve never asked her not to consider an opportunity for my sake, and I never will. “Of course. I’m thrilled for you.”
She’s still tense, squinting out at the water. “If I get it, the job won’t start until late August. But now that we’re together—” there’s a slight hesitation in her words, like she’s uncertain of us “—I didn’t mean to blindside you with this. Just forgot all about it with all the storm cleanup, and well, you know...” Her smirk tells me I haven’t been the only one fighting to keep my thoughts in check. “But I think it will be a good stepping-stone, and it buys me some more time to figure out where I’ll end up long-term.”
That’s a minefield, and I dodge it with a kiss to her cheek. “I bet you’ll get it.”
“That’s just what you have to say as a boyfriend.”
My lips curve into a smile. “A boyfriend?” I tap my chin. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Oh my gosh, stop.” She huffs out a laugh, then leans against my shoulder. “She is lucky though.”
Sensing she’s let her guard down, the seagull hops closer, and Hope sits bolt upright, on alert. For someone who teases me about my dislike of birds too large for physics, she sure has a thing against seagulls.
She pinches off another piece of muffin. “We can make it work, right? California is far.”
“Do you still want to make it work?” I hold my breath, wondering if this is too much, too soon, for our new relationship.
“With all my heart,” she assures me. “But I’m just worried.” She folds the muffin wrapper in on itself once. Twice. “What if I love it there and end up staying?” I know what she’s asking. Before, we planned to find a place together after we finished our studies. But now I’m established. And if she settles on the other side of the country...
I take her hands in mine, crumbs, sand and all. “Right now, let’s focus on us. Here and now. And when that time comes, we’ll give each other the space to work through it together.” My cautious side is begging me to tread lightly, but I’m done listening. Risking the present for the sake of the future cost me Hope, and that’s not a price I’m willing to pay.
She leans in for a kiss, and I meet her halfway. My eyes fall closed, surrendering to my heart’s desire, to this woman I want to spend my life loving. She lets go of my hand to wrap her fingers around my arm, holding tight, anchoring me, and our kiss deepens as we lean into one another. I savor the sweet taste of her lips, knowing we may not have many more moments like this for a while. But I’m more certain than ever I want a future with Hope, a life with her, even if that means letting her go, again.