Page 147 of Fire Island
“Nope, not this time.”
“Okay,nowI need to see it.”
“Aye aye,” I say, sweeping her into my arms.
She throws her head back with a laugh that fills my heart so full. One step at a time, her laughter peters out. As I cross the bedroom threshold, I lower her on her feet and turn her to face the bed. “Deep breath, baby. Be brave one more time, mo ghràdh,” I whisper, the words brushing past her ear.
She steps toward the bed. I lean back and close the door, double-checking the windows are shut.
The large white box is wrapped up in a wide silver bow. She slips the small envelope out from under the ribbon. Sliding a finger under the flap, she glances back as she opens it.
I wrap around her from behind and read it for her, wanting my voice to carry the words for this moment.
“Evie, what can a man say to the woman who patched him back together, saw him for who he truly is, and stood by while he relearned it all for himself? I don’t think a word exists for it. But if it did,minesounds like the perfect syllable. We have come so far and never even left this little island. Open your present, baby girl. See how far you’ve come, myFire Heart. Callum.”
Her hand trembles around the paper. She turns, planting a kiss on my jaw. Tears streak her beautiful face.
“Go on, open it,” I rasp, emotion turning my expression gravelly.
“What is it?”
“Victory, Fire Heart.” I let my tongue roll on each R to emphasize the importance of the moment.
She stares at me for a beat before tugging at the ribbon. The two flaps of the lid are only half closed by a small strip of tape, and she peels it back. I drop my head to her shoulder, kissing her neck before I whisper, “Tha gaol agam ort.”
Fine fingers pry the lid panels open.
On the prettiest gasp a man’s ever heard, her breath stops.
Hundreds of orange monarch butterflies soar from their confines. The fluttering cloud surrounds us in our small bedroom. Evie raises her head, turning it as wonder fills her face. Her hands cover her mouth and nose.
The fluttering calms a little as some settle, landing on furniture around our bedroom, while others circle the room, free and wild. The potted flowers I have around the room brighten the space. A few nectar trays lie on top of the wardrobe to keep them fed and happy.
“They’re magnificent,” she breathes and turns back, sliding her arms around my neck. “I love them. Do we really have to go to the party?”
“It’s our party. And your wee winged friends will be here when you come home. You have a whole two weeks with them.”
She huffs a breath and lifts her head to behold them as they flurry about our room. One lands on her head before another comes to rest on my shoulder. Retracting her arm carefully, she holds her finger beside it. I regard her with absolute awe as the tiny little insect steps onto her finger.
And my girl smiles.
Her fear now well and truly replaced by adoration.
The darkness that once shrouded Evie obliterated by her light.
This little woman,myfucking woman, outshines this old lighthouse. And it just so happens I am the luckiest man alive, because she chose to shine her light on me.
Forty
CALLUM
Firefly is decorated with tin cans on strings floating in the water behind her. Shaving cream and white streamers adorn the cabin. Evie carries her shoes, our fingers laced as we stroll down the jetty. Stars shimmer overhead as we board this old fishing boat that’s bared witness to our first meeting as well as to our first day as man and wife.
Tossing the fenders over to the deck, I release the lines before holding Evie’s hand again as she navigates the gunwale in her long, stunning dress. When she’s safely on board, I climb up and make for the cabin. One of the kitchen chairs sits beside the bench seat in the small space.
“What’s with the chair?” I ask.
“You’ll see.” My wife pecks my cheek with a chaste kiss.
