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“We’re having a baby!”
“Yeah, we are,” Jordi says, and a wide smile grows on his face as he rubs his hands over Junie’s back and stares at the crib.
“They like it.” I look at Aaron and he nods.
He brushes a hand over the pink on my cheeks. He knows why they’re flushed. When he measured the wood, when he screwed the slats—really, when he did anything—I was mesmerized by the line of his shoulders, the strength of his forearms, the steadiness of his hands, and I couldn’t help but touch him and kiss him and put my mouth on him.
So the crib ended up taking at least five times as long to build as it should have. I have a bruise on my back from lying on a scattering of wood, kissing in the grass. I scrubbed for fifteen minutes one day to get all the white paint off my skin from when we became a little too enthusiastic stroking on paint. Making the crib was literally a labor of love.
Across the garden Robert’s eyes narrow as he follows Aaron’s hand drifting over my cheek. He and I haven’t spoken since he warned me about playing games. But there’s a building tension in the looks he sends me, and I can’t help but remember him saying we’d be leaving come Christmas.
A chill washes over me, leaching the flush from my face. I turn from Robert, putting my back to him.
Aaron’s watching me, curiosity in his gaze. “You all right?”
I nod, stepping closer. Aaron tucks me under his arm and pulls me into his side. I fit there. Perfectly. His salt-and-sun scent wraps around me. I press my hand to his chest, to the warmth of him and the beating of his heart.
The sun slips lower, nearing the close of the day. The warm breeze of summer blows over my cheeks and tangles my cotton dress around my legs. I take it all in. The feel of Aaron’s arms, comforting and solid. The beach music singing of waves and summer. The grill smoke charring the air, the perfume of the garden. Amy waving from under the shade tree, grinning as she tickles Sean’s nose with a palm leaf.
“I wish today could last forever,” I say, thinking about how this morning we were wrapped around each other in the soft salt water of the cove, and we touched and kissed, and I whispered, “I love you,” as I threw my head back, and he kissed me and said, “Say it again.”
“Maybe it does,” he says, looking down at me tucked into his side. “Who knows, maybe every moment lasts forever. What is that poem Amy loves? ‘To see a World in a Grain of Sand...’"
“‘And a Heaven in a Wild Flower.’”
He smiles. “‘Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand.’”
“‘And Eternity in an hour,’” I finish.
He holds me close, wrapping me tight against him. “Maybe this is our eternity. And even after we’re gone we’ll still have this moment.”
I nod, my cheek rubbing against his chest. “Maybe so.”
He strokes a hand over my back and places a kiss on my forehead, butterfly-soft.
I look out over the party, at the daylight leaking away, and I feel the ticking of time deep in my chest.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
It’s stuttering to a stop.
So I fling myself into the moment, grasping the end of summer, clutching it to my heart. I hold Aaron’s hand tightly and say, “I love you.”
It feels like the last time. Like I’m a leaf set free and floating on the wind, and when I fall the ground I land on will be back in Geneva, far, far away from here.
“I love you too,” he says. “Fi. I love you too.”
And that is the end of the dream.
41
Max studiesme from across the soft glow of candlelight. The candle’s yellow flickering lands on the white tablecloth, the china, and the glistening silverware. The light casts over him, highlighting the sharp line of his cheekbones and the wry twist of his lips. His black hair is combed back, his jaw clean-shaven. He’s in a dark suit and a white collared shirt, and he’s absently twisting the gold signet ring on his finger. He’s working through a problem. And he’s nervous.
We’re at a restaurant in Old Town, a low stone-walled, stone-floored space with burgundy velvet cushions, gold trim, and lead-paned windows. The restaurant has been here for centuries and has always served food that delights the senses—fresh-baked zopf, our sweet braided bread, local cheeses melted in white wine, glossy new potatoes slick with fresh butter and thyme, wildflower honey and plump figs, mountain berries and peppery rocket.
