Page 120 of Give & Take

“You what?”

“Packed a truck.”

I sigh, looking out at the restaurant. Most of the looky-loos have returned to their meals. “Tell me what you’re trying to say, sweetheart,” I say, stroking his hair.

He smiles. “Only if you promise to keep doing that.”

What Raph was trying to say, as it turns out, is that he planned a camping trip for us while the kids are away.

I don’tlovecamping. I don’t hate it, I just don’t love lying on the ground and having no place to properly relax during the day outside an uncomfortable camping chair. I also don’t love rowdy group campsites. Or bears.

Or cougars.

But Raph has taken care of all of it, because he’s booked us a night at a tiny provincial campground on one of the local gulf islands, where not only are there no predators, but the camping spot is right on the beach.

We also don’t need a tent because he’s got a bed set up in the bed of Cal’s truck.

“Okay,” I say as I fall into the hammock Raph’s spread between two trees that evening with my e-reader. “This is perfection.” Beyond the trees around me, thecurve of beach, with its shockingly white sand and azure water, is completely empty. The sun is low and orange in the sky, and the only sound besides Raph puttering around making the fire is the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the soft rush of the ocean lapping at the shore.

Raph blows on the fire, maybe a little too hard, because he sits back after a moment, looking slightly woozy. “I’m fine,” he reassures me. Then he gives me that grin that makes my insides wobble. He’s still wearing that ridiculous t-shirt. “Better than fine since you just called this plan perfection.”

I laugh softly, watching him over my e-reader as he gets out the ingredients for our late-night supper.

He whistles while he works, taking care of everything for me while I read.

The realization hits me that I can’t quite believe this is my life. I feel like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life, and am looking around waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But with Raph, it just doesn’t. He takes pleasure in showing me a good time, both in bed, and in life. He’s happier if he’s doing something, whether that’s making dinner or doing crafts with the girls, or talking animatedly about some obscure woman poet from 18thcentury India he just discovered who “describes a mango like it’s a holy object”.

There is no other shoe, I realize. Except for all the reasons our relationship shouldn’t work.

But for now, it does. And I’ve promised myself that’s all I’m allowed to think about.

After dinner, Raph declares he needs to clean off.

It’s a stunning night—out here the stars are so bright we’ve been staring at them for at least twenty minutes while our food settles. “You going to hike to the showers now?” I ask.

There’s one shower, but it’s way on the other side of the tiny campsite.

Raph looks over at me, his head leaning back on his camping chair. “I was thinking about taking a swim.”

“What, now?”

“Why not?”

“It’s dark?”

“I won’t be scared if I’m not alone.”

I gape at him. “I was thinking about tucking in.”

“Really?” He stands up and peels his shirt off.

I bite my lip. I don’t know how I can look at this man all day and forget how beautiful he is. “Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. LaForest?”

“Not yet.” He winks, hooking his thumbs into the top of his shorts.

“Are you going to change right here in the middle of the campsite?” I laugh.

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