Page 97 of Sparks Fly

“Whenever works,” Sawyer said with a small smile.

I let out a quiet breath and leaned back in my chair. “This week’s going to suck.”

Sawyer reached across the table again and brushed her fingers lightly against my wrist before speaking. “We’ll talk,” she said gently. “You’ll get through it.”

I watched her hand resting near mine and swallowed before answering. “I don’t want to pretend,” I said quietly. “Like this weekend didn’t change me.”

Sawyer’s expression softened as she squeezed my wrist lightly. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” she replied. “That’s the point.”

We lingered after breakfast with our fingers tangled together, neither of us in a hurry to leave.

And we didn’t have to be.

We still had the rest of Saturday and one more night before real life came back.

After breakfast, we walked through town with no real plan. We wandered into small shops, shared a bag of saltwater taffy, and stopped along the waterfront whenever something caught our attention. Sawyer kept reaching for my hand without thinking, and every time she did, warmth spread through me.

No one stared.

No one cared.

We were simply two women spending the day together, and I hadn’t realized how badly I needed that until I had it.

Later, we found a quiet spot near the water and sat with our shoulders pressed together while boats moved slowly through the harbor.

“I could stay here forever,” I murmured.

Sawyer glanced at me. “In Mystic?”

I smiled. “Right here. With you. Away from everything.”

Her expression softened. “We’ll do this again.”

The certainty in her voice made me believe her.

We picked up dinner on the way back to the house and ate on the porch as the sun went down. Afterward, we opened a bottle of wine and stayed outside beneath a blanket, talking until the air grew too cold to ignore.

That night was slower than the one before.

There was no urgency. No feeling that we had something to prove. We took our time, learning each other again before falling asleep tangled together in the middle of the bed.

* * *

Sunday morning arrived too quickly.

I woke with Sawyer’s arm around my waist and sunlight stretching across the sheets. For a few minutes, I stayed completely still, pretending we had nowhere to be.

Eventually, Sawyer kissed the back of my shoulder.

“We should probably start packing.”

“I don’t like that idea.”

“Neither do I.”

Getting out of bed took longer than it should have. Kisses slowed us down. Hands lingered. Every time I tried to move away, she pulled me back for one more.

Eventually, I forced myself up and pulled on one of her worn black T-shirts with my shorts, smiling when I caught her scent still clinging to it.