Chapter 26
Cal
The next morning, the sun hasn’t risen yet, and the soft sound of the ocean comes in the open windows.
Silvie’s curled up against my chest, her leg draped over mine, her hair fanned across my shoulder, and I breathe her in.
I just made her come twice, and then we had the best sex I’ve ever had with anyone.
The connection I have with Silvie is palpable.
I stroke my thumb in circles along her shoulder, back and forth.
Her fingers move lazily over my chest, tracing lines I know by heart.
I’ve had my tattoos for so long that sometimes I forget that they’re there.
She follows the ink down my arm, and my breath catches.
Goosebumps ripple across my skin from her touch.
She smiles. “You sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” I say as I shudder when her fingertips slide lower. “I always sleep well with you next to me.”
Her mouth drops and kisses my ink, and she looks at me, curious. “Tell me about them.”
“My tattoos?”
She nods. “You’ve got a lot. And they look like they tell stories.”
I exhale slowly. “They weren’t supposed to be a story at first. I just liked them.”
Her fingers trace a familiar curve, slowly. “But now?”
“Now they are kind of personal,” I admit. “I think I started mapping out life experiences without realizing it.”
She studies my arm, following the lines. “This is New York.”
I still for a second as she realizes.
“I see it now,” she says quietly. “Skyline shapes.”
“Yeah,” I say. “That was a whole chapter.”
She leans in and presses a soft kiss there, right over the ink.
“And this?” she asks, moving to the waves across my ribs.
“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.
Before she leaves the room, I catch her hand and pull her back to me gently. She laughs and stumbles into me.
I take my time, kissing her, breathing in her vanilla-and-coconut scent. “Have fun at yoga.”
“I will. I’ll plan dinner tonight,” she says.
“I like doing life with you,” I say.
Her expression softens. “I like doing life with you, too.”
She kisses me again and then pulls back, giving me that smile I feel all the way in my soul. I stand there watching as she heads out.
I don’t know how this will work yet. I just know I don’t want to go back to the version of my life that didn’t include her.
Tonight, Silvie planned dinner at the Seashell Diner.
Silvie, I have discovered, is not much of a cook.
And when she says she’s going to take care of dinner, she means either picking up or choosing the place we’ll get takeout from.
And I don’t mind, because every day feels like an adventure with her.
Silvie, wearing cutoffs, sneakers, and a tank top, is as casual as ever.
We peruse our menus, and I glance over at her, still unable to believe that this is my life and my wife.
“How was work today?” I ask after we place our orders and our menus are collected.
She leans across, and her cleavage is on full display. I can barely focus. Jesus, she’s stunning.
“It was good. I had meetings all day. Wilby is coming tomorrow. He’s going to stay at Birdie’s until I can find a place for him to rent,” she says. “I’m glad he wants to come back. He says he loves it here. Who would have thought?”
“Good. I’ve missed him, too,” I admit. “You think you can work here and back in the city and make it work?”
She nods. “Listen. It’s a double standard.
My father has traveled all over the world while running that company.
It’s no surprise that he did it to avoid my mother.
He ran it by doing meetings over video and calls.
And I picked up the slack back home. Now it’s my turn.
I can be wherever I want in the world, and he can pick up the slack back home. ”
I listen, and she continues. “It’s insane that he is trying to get me to come back by telling me that I need to be there to run the company.
That’s simply not true. And also, I don’t need to work eighteen to twenty-hour days as he did.
I believe a good CEO has a work-life balance.
Sure, we’ll have calls later in the evenings and travel.
But it doesn’t have to be all-consuming. It’s just not necessary.”
Our burgers and fries arrive, and we dig in. I can’t stop staring at her.
“What?” she asks when she notices.
“I just like seeing you so casual. Happy. Being you. Knowing what you want and going after it and not taking crap from anyone.”
She smiles. “Thanks. I’m not sure I have everything quite figured out. But I do know what I don’t want. And I don’t want my dad’s life. He doesn’t seem to ever be happy.”
“Have you heard anything about your mom and sister?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Wilby said she hasn’t come around, and my dad has been working even longer hours. Tyler and Belladonna have moved into my parents’ house.”
I shudder. “That’s so wild that they are married. And rubbing it in everyone’s faces. I don’t like the way he talked to you, and I don’t want him near you. He has no respect for you.”
She grins. “Look at you being so protective. It’s sexy, hot husband.”
I shake my head at her and change the subject. “I have a surprise for you after this.”
She pops a fry in her mouth. “I like your surprises.”
I like her.
Hidden Cove is a local’s best-kept secret. One that few tourists know about. Locals guard it and rarely share. It’s about a mile to get to, but worth it. The views along the way are spectacular, and once you arrive, the waterfalls are the best. I know Silvie will love it.
She walks behind me, humming softly, stopping every so often to touch a leaf or comment on the light filtering through the branches. She looks relaxed and happy. Like the noise fell away the second we entered the trail. I’ve always found peace here, and now I’m happy to share it with her.
“You bring all your girls out here?”
I look at her like the answer’s obvious. “Only the one I married.”
She laughs, and she grows quiet when the waterfall finally opens up in front of us. She stops short. Mist hangs in the air, cool against our skin, sunlight catching in the spray like it’s holding on to whatever daylight is left.
“Oh,” she breathes. “I can’t believe this place.”
“This is my favorite place on the island.”
She looks at me then and nods. “Your waterfall tattoo.”
The water is cold when we step in, shocking at first, then exhilarating. She squeals and grabs onto me, shivering as her fingers dig into my arms, and laughs.
I pull her to me, her legs hooking around my hips as I move us under the waterfall.
Water rushes over us as her hands slide into my hair.
Mine are at her waist, pulling her against me, my dick hard and ready for her.
There’s nowhere for us to be. Just us at sunset in one of my favorite places.
Where we’re exactly supposed to be in this moment. Together.
I dip my head down to hers and kiss her softly, needing her, wanting her, and giving her what she needs.
I slide her swimsuit bottoms down and kick my trunks off, pulling her up and slamming into her, both of us panting with need and desire.
I feel her grip me and come around me, and my body shatters into hers, us becoming one.
Later, we stretch out on warm rocks, the sun drying our skin, the sound of the water steady and constant. Silvie’s head rests on my chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles there like she’s memorizing me.
“I want this to be real with you,” I say quietly.
The words surprise me even as they leave my mouth. I don’t take them back.
She lifts her head, eyes searching my face. “It is real.”
“I love you,” I say. It doesn’t feel dramatic. It feels honest.
Her smile is soft and sure. “I love you too. It stopped being fake a long time ago for me.”
Relief hits me so hard I have to close my eyes for a second. Like I’ve been holding my breath through this whole thing and didn’t even realize it.
We stay there for a while, wrapped around each other, the world narrowed down to water and sun and skin. It’s slow and unhurried and feels nothing like the frantic wanting I used to mistake for love.
Eventually, she shifts, propping herself up on one elbow. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Do you want kids?”
The question lands softly but carries weight. I don’t deflect. I don’t joke.
“Yeah,” I say. “I always have.”
Her brows lift slightly. “Really?”
“Really,” I say. “I didn’t have a dad growing up. I think that stuck with me.”
She listens, quiet and attentive.
“I want to be there,” I continue. “Not just around. I want to show up. Make breakfasts. Go to games. Teach them how to surf and how to treat people right. Family means everything to me because I had to build mine from scratch.”
Her eyes shine, and she swallows. “I want that too.”
I pull her closer, pressing my forehead to hers. “Maybe this could work,” I say.
She smiles. “Maybe it already is.”
The waterfall keeps rushing behind us, steady and constant, and for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel like something I’m bracing for.
It feels like something I want.