Page 65 of Take Two

“So.” His smile shifts into something gentler, more private than the one he carries around the rest of the afternoon. “You okay?”

I hold his gaze for a moment, long enough to let him see the answer before I say it.

“I’m more than okay.”

The rest of the afternoon slips by in the easy, unhurried way only good days seem capable of doing. Somewhere between second helpings I definitely don’t need, three fiercely competitive games of dominoes that Jamie’s uncles insist I join, and more conversations than I can possibly remember, I stop feeling like a guest.

I become part of it all, a part of something I never knew I missed out on or needed.

Cameron fares no differently. By the time the sun begins its slow descent over Puget Sound, he’s been recruited into family photographs, challenged to a game of spades he never stood a chance of winning, and unofficially adopted by at least four of Jamie’s cousins. At one point, I catch him carrying somebody’s sleepy toddler on his shoulder while Jamie’s mother disappears inside to pack leftovers into enough containers to feed us for the next week.

Nobody asks who I am anymore. I’m simply Cyaire.

As evening settles over the Sound, everyone drifts toward the dock to watch the fireworks. Boats gather farther out across the water, their navigation lights dancing against the darkening waves while children wave sparklers from the shoreline and bursts of red, white, and gold begin blooming overhead, their reflections rippling across the bay.

I stand shoulder to shoulder with Jamie, our hands brushing together until his fingers quietly slip between mine.

Nobody says a word. We simply enjoy the show together.

I don’t think I’ve ever watched fireworks surrounded by this much laughter or this much love.

By the time we finally say our goodbyes, the knot that’s been sitting quietly beneath my ribs all afternoon has returned.

Jamie’s mother pulls me into another hug before I can escape.

“You come back whenever you want, baby,” she says holding my cheeks between her soft hands.

My smile wobbles as emotion presses unexpectedly behind my eyes. I swallow down the lump in my throat and nod. “Yes, ma’am. I’d like that.”

I mean it, more than she realizes. By the way she smiles at Jamie as he takes my hand and leads me down the driveway, maybe she does.

As I climb into the passenger seat of Jamie’s truck, one thought follows me all the way to the door closing behind me.

Will I come back?

The city lights blur past the passenger window as we make our way back toward Queen Anne, the neighborhoods shifting and softening beneath the glow of the warm summer night. Cameron’s SUV stays a comfortable distance behind us, its headlights a steady, familiar fixture in the rearview mirror.

Jamie glances at me before returning his attention to the road.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he says, breaking the silence between us.

I lean my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the Seattle skyline slide past outside, the lights smearing soft and watercolor against the dark. “Yeah.”

“You okay?” His hand finds my thigh, giving it a quick, grounding squeeze, and the touch pulls my attention back from the glass, back into the car, back into the present moment with him.

I think about lying. About telling him I’m tired, or that I’ve simply had a long day, because saying either of those things would be so much easier than admitting what’s really sitting in my chest right now. The truth is messier. Somewhere between the fireworks and Jamie’s mother holding my face in her hands, I stopped thinking about this as a bubble we could keep living inside indefinitely. I started thinking about what happens when it finally bursts, and whether what we’ve found between us is strong enough to survive everything waiting outside of it.

“I don’t want to lose this,” I confess, finally stopping myself from protecting both of us from the conversation we’ve been avoiding.

Jamie’s hand tightens almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t fill the space I’ve opened up. He only chances a quick glance across at me, his eyes carrying the full weight of his concern, before his attention returns to the road ahead.

“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do, Jamie.” I let out a slow breath, watching the lights continue to dissolve against the glass. “Neither of us can just walk away from our careers. You’re heading into training camp, and by the time summer is over I’ll probably be halfway across the world filming again. We haven’t talked about any of it, because pretending it didn’t exist was easier than facing it head on.”

A short, humorless laugh escapes me.

“Social media has apparently decided we’re together before we’ve defined what this is ourselves.”

Silence fills the car while I search for the right words to explain what I’m feeling.