Page 33 of More With You

His smile tells me he’s heard, but he doesn’t respond.

With the wind whipping through my hair, dislodging the bobby pins that were holding half of it up, I turn and raise my glass to the casinos in the distance behind me, before taking a well-earned sip. It’s cold and refreshing: a perfect accompaniment to the incredible beauty of the Gulf. I spot a stretch of sandy beach along the cape of the nearest barrier island and wonder what it would be like to lay out there for an afternoon with a good book, more champagne, more fresh fruit, and Ben. Of course, with no other tourists or wildlife enthusiasts to disturb our peace.

Charging out of the bay, the water changes, morphing from cloudy green to a clear blue, pierced by gauzy shafts of evening sunlight. It’s celestial, almost, like ethereal fingertips are trying to penetrate through the sapphire depths below. But there’s only so far that the light can touch, and there’s something about the deep darkness under that layer of crystalline blue that unnerves me.

A short while later, the boat cuts between two of the barrier islands, like a sort of gateway into the Gulf. The water between the islands is shallower and bluer, verging on turquoise, and the golden beaches that completely border the islands are screaming my name. So, it’s a nice surprise when Ben kills the engine, a short distance from the stretch of sand, and drops the anchor.

He takes his glass of champagne, the bottle, and the bowl of fruit and heads toward the back of the boat, where there’s a sort of diving platform. At least, that’s what I think it is: a blunt edge that’s only slightly raised above the water level. There, he sits down and dangles his legs into the water, patting the wooden deck for me to join him.

He sets down his glass and leans forward, his hand coming up to cradle my face, while his other hand moves to take away my drink. His gaze flits down to my lips, and I know what’s coming, but…

“Wait,” I whisper, putting a hand to his chest to push him away. “There are things you should know. It’s not just me who has to decide if they can make this work, and I want you to… understand me better, so you can figure that out for you and… Grace.” Her name sticks in my throat. “Otherwise, we’re going to find ourselves back at square one, and… I don’t want that.”

He rocks back and brings his legs out of the water, crossing them as he turns to face me. “I’m listening, but my mind isn’t going to change about you,” he says firmly. “There’s nothing you could say to convince me you’re not what I want, unless you’re married, but I don’t think you’re going to drop a bombshell like that.”

“I’ve got bombshells, but no… I’m not married.” I smile a little, and, with a steadying breath, I jump right in to my long and gloomy history.

I tell him about my mother, and how she had me young—so young that she wasn’t ready to give up the perks of youth. I explain the constant carousel of bad men, the run-ins with cops, the survival mode that I’ve existed within since I was little. Even when my grandma finally took me away at fourteen, the damage had been done, and it wasn’t like my grandma had much of her own to spare, so the struggle didn’t stop; it just changed angle. Plus, my mother showed up a lot, trying to spread a thick layer of guilt on me.

I tell him how I left Wisconsin eight years ago to try and carve out a life for myself, and I was doing alright until the cops called to tell me that my grandma had been found outside in the dead of winter, wandering around with no idea where she lived or who she was. I should’ve seen the signs earlier, but my grandma always brushed off her little mistakes and forgetfulness as old age. I didn’t realize that her mind was abandoning her, moving out of her head like I’d done with my mother: taking small pieces at a time, so it wouldn’t be noticed until it was too late.

“She’s in a facility now, where she can be cared for in a way that I wouldn’t be able to,” I say quietly. “I pay for it all, and it’s why I go where the money is, but I want you to know that I’ll never expect a dollar from you. That’s not who I am. She’s my grandma, and I’m going to be the one to look after her for as long as she’s still breathing.”

I continue with my fears about Levi and that he’s most likely told the DuCates that I’m a gold digger. I know I’m skirting around the daughter issue, but I’m going to have to touch on it at some point. After all, it’s the piece that ties everything together.

“I guess… I don’t know what it’s like to have a happy home. I didn’t really have parents, so I’ve got no guidance for how to act around kids,” I admit, with a frown. “Honestly, my childhood has well and truly turned me off being a mom, so when you said you had a daughter, I started panicking. I’m not maternal. I’m not even sure I like kids, but I’ve never spent much time around one, so I can’t be certain. That’s why I freaked out so much.”

To my surprise, Ben smiles and reaches for my hands, holding them tight. “I’m not asking you to be her mom, Summer. She’s got one. But I do need to know you’re going to be okay with having her around. She’s a huge part of my life, and I want you to be, too.” He pauses. “That being said, I understand if you can’t. Everything you told me… Shit, it makes me mad just thinking about what you’ve been through. I knew you were tough, but—I can’t even describe how in awe I am of you, right now. You’re incredible, Summer. More incredible than I already knew you were.”

“I survived, that’s all,” I murmur, feeling awkward. It’s nothing special. There must be thousands and thousands of people in the country who’ve endured similar. We don’t all make it out alive.

He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Don’t minimize what you’ve achieved, Summer. It’s why, if you turned your back now, I wouldn’t blame you. But it’s also why I’ve still got hope that you’ll give this a try. You’ve climbed so many mountains, and I think this one might be an easier climb than you think.” He clears his throat. “That’s not to put words in your mouth, though, or to make any decisions for you. It’s entirely up to you.”

I nod, trying to find something to say.

“As for the Levi shit,” he carries on, “forget about it. He can say what he likes. I’d never believe a word that came out of his mouth. If my parents do, that’s up to them, but I’ll be in your corner the whole way.”

“You will?”

He kisses my hand again. “I’m my own person, Summer. They don’t dictate anything in my life.” He shuffles closer, bringing his hands to my face. “Just meet her, that’s all I’m asking. Make your decision after that. And, until she gets back from Italy, say you’ll spend some time with me? Not picking up where we left off, but something in-between?”

“Okay,” I breathe, not sure which question I’m answering.

He bends his head, and his lips find mine, and though I don’t know if everything is going to work out, life already feels better again. After all, he’s right—I won’t know how I feel until I meet her. Grace. The girl that might break us or bind us together. So, for now, I’m just going to enjoy this. Being with him, kissing him, knowing he’s mine. Even if it’s only temporary.

BEN

She’s layered—a painting beneath a painting. I thought I knew more about her, but I didn’t have a clue. She’s like a muse in a gallery, and I was the paying tourist, trying to understand what the painter was trying to express from one solitary picture. But that’s just the old version of a snapshot into someone’s life. How could I have known the true story, when she hides it so well behind her humor and her sweetness and her sensuality?

Now, I’ve scraped away the top layer and I’m seeing the secret picture of her, and it’s more detailed and harrowing and beautiful and inspiring than I could ever have imagined. She’s richer in texture and color and feeling than I’ll ever be, but she’s turned a dark palette into something vivid and magnetic. I look at her and I don’t see the shadows. I see a sunset: the sun’s last incredible display of light and victory before night comes, to remind the world that it’s going to rise again in the morning. That’s her—the hope of brightness and warmth and love.

I’m not going to count my chickens and say we’re over our obstacles, but if she’s willing to give this a chance, after all she’s been through and all she’s seen, then she’s even braver.

I’m writing this outside her cottage, on the porch where I left that painting for her. She’s inside, making coffee, and I don’t want to waste any time getting back to her. But I want to note this down, so I can remember this moment. If it doesn’t work out, I can look back fondly. If it does, then I’ll know this to be the moment that we decided to be part of one another’s lives.

Grace lands in a week. I’ll know, then, if the sun is going to set or rise on our relationship, but I pray I don’t end up in shadow again, without her.

13

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