Page 137 of The Trouble with Flings

“It’s not. We can always repaint.” I stop walking to look at her. Her hair is blowing around her face, her devastatingly beautiful eyes giving away her heartache and her happiness. I wrap my arms around her and say, “What does your heart tell you?”

Her brows knit, and then a small smile appears. “Yellow. Butter yellow. It’s not too bright, but it’s cheery, and I want our baby to be surrounded by happiness. What do you think?”

I expected her to deflect, and my fucking heart thumps a little harder. “Butter yellow it is.”

Her grin widens, and she grabs the front of my sweatshirt, tugging me down, and says, “Deal,” and kisses me.

The beach stretches out before us as we continue our walk, the waves crashing against the shore. Her arm that’s around me loosens, almost undetectably, then presses tighter against me again, and she stares out at the ocean. I’ve learned enough about Jennifer to know that something is niggling at her just below the surface.

“Talk to me, wild girl.”

“How do you always know when there’s something on my mind?”

I hug her against my side. “Does it bother you that you’re becoming an open book to me?”

“Yes.”

I bark out a laugh. “Get used to it, because by the time this baby is born, I’ll know what every little thing you do means.”

“That’s mildly scary.”

“Is it? Because from what I’ve learned, you’d rather stew or run yourself ragged than ask for help, and once our baby is here, we’re both going to be exhausted. I don’t want to miss a thing. I don’t want you to have to ask. I want to help before it becomes too much.”

She exhales dramatically. “You must’ve been studying those parenting books, huh?”

“Hey, those parenting books have gotten you several back massages.”

“I can’t complain about the happy endings,” she says sassily.

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

“You mean besides not wanting to leave?” She pauses, like she’s surprised she said it.

My chest swells, and I hold her a little tighter. “I’m not thrilled about that, either.”

She gazes out at the water and says, “The thing is, I don’t not want to go home.”

“I get it, babe. I feel that way every time I come to see you in the city.”

“Everything is moving so fast, and at the same time, it feels like it’s moving in slow motion. I’ve been here six days, and it feels like a month. Everyone has been so wonderful, and after meeting Holden and hearing him talk about his friends back home, and seeing the art he made with them, I’m excited to try to help him find that here. Your dad and Grant and Cait have been so helpful.”

They loved the idea of a mural and had several suggestions about the best way to sell it to the community, but my father suggested starting with Mayor Osten, and if he condoned it, to speak with the assisted living facility, the community center, and to Roddy about doing something at the marina.

My girl set out on a mission. She’s already spoken to the mayor, who thought it was a great idea, and to Roddy, who said he’d be happy to sanction a wall for Holden, and she made appointments to meet with the directors of the assisted living facility and the community center next weekend, because, she said, Silver Island is all about personal connections, and she wasn’t going to risk being a faceless voice over the phone with something this important.

“But there’s a piece I can’t figure out,” she says. “Maybe you can help me. I need someone to oversee the project and be there for Holden, so he doesn’t feel like I’ve put him on another island by himself. Cait said she can help for a few weeks, which is great, but when summer hits, her tattoo business will take all of her time, and Grant said he can try to help, but between his foundation, his own artwork, and Jules and Stevie, he’s already swamped.”

“How long do you think it’ll take for Holden to paint?” I ask.

“I honestly don’t know, but if this helps him make friends, I would love for it to be something he can continue in some way through the summer at least. Maybe then he can get involved with something through school, or he will have found some artsy friends. Do you know anyone who might be willing to work with him? I’m going to reach out to the high school once they’re back from break.”

“Why don’t you do it for the summer? You’re the one who knows how to get through to teenagers, and then you could see how it helps Holden firsthand. And you know I’d love to have you here for the summer, and the girls would be thrilled. Don’t you get the summer off?”

She blinks up at me. “No, I don’t get it off. We’re not expected to be in the office full-time, but I still have meetings and things to take care of. I have vacation time, but I can’t just disappear for the entire summer.”

“So do it half time and weekends, then go back for a few days.”

Her brows knit again, and I know she’s picking apart the idea. She tucks a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and says, “Spend most of the summer away from the city?”