Page 78 of Adrift

“I’m . . ..” I see his throat bob, but I don’t miss his whisper–I’ll never miss his whispers. “I’m falling for you.”

I take in a shaky breath, my heart swooping over the clouds in the sky. “Darian?”

His eyes connect with mine, like electricity to water.

I whisper back, “I fell a long time ago.”

He’s quiet again, lost inside his head, as he absorbs my admission. His fingers play with my curls distractedly, like he’s not even present.

I run my fingers over his scruff, bringing him back. “Talk to me. I’m right here.”

His gaze bounces between mine. “Thank you for trusting me with your body, Rani. I mean that. But I feel like I took something that wasn’t meant for me.”

“You can’t take something that was always meant for you, Darian.”

He tugs me closer. “When I’m with you, I feel like I’m on vacation. Somewhere I never want to come back from.” His frown deepens as his desire battles with his self-control. “Somewhere I want to stay forever.”

I play with the curls on his nape. “I don’t want to be a vacation you take, Darian. I want to be the home you always come back to.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Darian

She stirs inside my arms before her eyes blink open. Even in the dark, I can see the whites of her eyes.

She’s been asleep for a little over two hours. I’d fallen asleep with her as we stared into each other’s eyes, but my thoughts were all over the place. I knew what she’d asked of me. I want to be the home you always come back to. And I knew the answer. It wasn’t even a question. But I couldn’t just file away my concerns at the time, either.

Was I too old for her? Was she too young for me? What would my parents think? What would her mom do?

What would my dead wife think?

All my fears seemed to creep in inside the dark before I succumbed to a restless sleep, only to see the faces of my past in my dreams–of Jude and Sonia. I’d kayaked down the river to find not one, but both of their bodies lying near the rocks.

I woke with a start about twenty minutes ago, and the only thing that centered me was her–a woman I might have helped bring to shore when her kayak toppled over, but she’s the woman who stopped me from going adrift.

It’s a wonder what twenty minutes next to the one you’re falling in love with can do to clear up the confusion. To give you perspective.

It can make you selfish and greedy.

Resolute in your decision.

Because it was within those twenty minutes that I made mine. A decision that never really was one in the first place. A decision that’s only fortified with every moment we’ve spent together.

A decision to choose her.

Over all the rights and wrongs. Over all the concerns about the past and the future. Over every other person I’ve allowed to keep her away from me, including my late wife. . . including myself.

I choose her because she isn’t even a choice when she’s a necessity. Like the air that fills my lungs, the water that quenches my thirst, and my shelter from the storm.

Her fingers trail over the side of my neck and she smiles. I can’t see it, but I can feel it. Her voice is a raspy whisper, reminding me of the way she sings to my son. “I can hear you thinking, Mr. Meyer. Your thoughts are incredibly loud.”

“They can’t seem to stay silent when it comes to you.”

We’re whispering to each other, so softly, you’d think we were worried about someone listening in.

She nuzzles closer. She’d put her pajamas back on after cleaning up, but I’m hoping she has no intention of keeping them on. “And what are your thoughts saying?”

Things my heart has already conceded but my mouth isn’t ready to speak.

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