Page 100 of One Small Spark
“I don’t know. Maybe a lemon curd with a blueberry meringue. Tart, but with a hint of bright freshness.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“I’m happy at the bakery,” she says after a minute. “But I don’t like feeling as if I don’t have choices in my own life.”
I wasn’t all that good at my family’s business, but I understand feeling like your choices have already been made for you. Where I lived, where I worked—they were foregone conclusions I had to break away from. We were in similar spots, once.
“You always have choices, Wren. When you figure out what you want, I have no doubt you will make it happen. Whether that’s finding a different job or a different place to live. Even taking a long vacation you’ve been thinking about for years.”
“Not everybody agrees.”
“I know. I’ve been there, too. But you deserve every happiness you want.”
Her soft smile makes my heart melt. “I do deserve happiness, don’t I?”
“Absolutely, you do.”
“What if my happiness involves a little smacky-smacky?” She raises one hand to tap an imaginary rump.
Laughter rumbles through me, along with a shot of adrenaline. “I never said you couldn’t. I only said it goes both ways.”
We sink lower in the water. It’s so cold out, any wet skin exposed to air is immediately an iceberg. At this point, it’s going to be impossible to get out again.
With Wren in my arms, I can’t even care. I will live as a half-frozen prune if that’s what it takes.
“What else do you want to do when you go to New Zealand?” I ask. “Other than lie on beach after beach.”
A plan I wholeheartedly endorse.
“I had it all figured out. I’d stay in tiny houses close to the beaches and go into town for ice cream every day. There are these caves that they take you through in canoes and the ceilings are full of glowworms, so the caverns twinkle like stars. There’s whale watching on the South Island, and it’d be cool to experience some Maori culture.”
“A lot of those things sound suspiciously outdoorsy.”
“It doesn’t count as outdoorsy if it’s in another country.”
“Is that how it works?”
She slowly bicycles her legs in the water, and I memorize the sight. “It’s not really that I hate all outdoorsy things. I just…never wanted to feel like I had to change myself to make a guy like me. I’ve done it in the past. It didn’t work.”
Protectiveness barrels to life in my chest. I want to hunt down whoever made her feel like she had to be anything other than exactly who she is. This goddess doesn’t need to change herself for anyone.
“You’re holding me kind of tight. Are you hulking out again?”
“Sorry.” I relax my arms and press a kiss to her temple. “I don’t want you to be different, Wren. If I ask you to do things with me, it’s not because I want you to like exactly what I like. It’s because I want to experience things with you. And if you don’t want to do them, that’s okay, too.”
She nods, but I’m not sure she believes me.
“I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”
Her laughter rocks through my chest. “Perfect? You must have me confused with someone else. I’m snarky and rude, and I?—”
A man and woman slowly descend the stairs next to our pool. At a guess, they’re in the age range of the women in our book group, with graying hair and faces etched with lines. They wear sandals as they traverse the wet rocks, but they’ve got absolutely nothing else on.
Wren freezes, staring straight ahead. The couple continue on to a lower pool as if we aren’t here. They gradually disappear from view, probably dipping into one of the coolest levels.
Wren dislodges herself from my arms, spinning stiffly to face me with wide eyes.
“Too much for you?” I ask.
