“I’ll let you get some sleep then,” he said.
“Justin?”
He glanced back at me. “Yeah?”
“Why?” I asked quietly.
“Why what?”
“Why did you come?”
“Because you needed me,” he said simply. “I will always come when you call.”
We stood there looking at each other. Then he seemed to remember himself and edged past me out of the room.
I got dressed and got under the covers, feeling good for the first time in days with clean clothes, clean sheets, clean body.
I passed out almost immediately. And when I did, I dreamed of him—being with him at a cafe on a date, walking his dog, going back to his house. I wanted to tell him something the whole time, but I didn’t know what. I kept opening my mouth to talk to him and then nothing would come out and he’d just smile at me. It was weird how mundane the dream was, but how totally invested I felt in it. When I woke up, I was disappointed it was over and I was back on the island.
It was dark now. I felt for my phone and found it on the charger next to a perspiring glass of ice water that hadn’t been there when I went to sleep. It was 3:00 a.m.
I got up and used the bathroom. Then I poked my head into the living room looking for him. He wasn’t there. I checked Maddy’s room. Not there either.
The disappointment swallowed me.
I don’t know what I thought was going to happen. He had the kids, a dog. He had a job. I couldn’t expect him to stay on this island just to hang out with me. He’d done more than enough coming here to begin with. But discovering he was gone did something to me.
I missed him.
I’d been missing him, I realized. At work. At home. I’d been wanting to see him every single day since the water park. I never got a break from it. It was burning a hole in me.
I stopped in the doorway of the living room and peered around the cottage in the dark. I could see the dishes washed and drying on the rack. A bowl full of fruit that hadn’t been there yesterday. I padded over to the front door. It was closed and locked, but the frame was cracked. Had he kicked it in? He must have. And how did he even get here? Did Neil loan him the yacht? Did he hitchhike? Can you do that on a lake? I had questions that I’d been too out of it to ask when he was here.
I’d have to wait until a reasonable hour to call him. Though something told me that if I called him now and woke him up, he wouldn’t mind. It was weird that I knew that. That if I needed him, he would be there and he wouldn’t be bothered by it no matter how late or inconvenient the time. No… not just if I needed him. If I wanted him, he would be there. It didn’t have to be important. He would be there for anything and any reason. And I knew that.
I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I turned for my bedroom—and that’s where I discovered Justin, sleeping on the little bench beneath the window.
A soft smile spread across my face.
He’d stayed.
I gazed at him, wedged into that tiny nook, his long legs tucked almost to his chest. The throw blanket from the couch covered him, and he was using a little decorative lake-life pillow. He must be so uncomfortable.
Why hadn’t he slept in the living room on the sofa? Or Maddy’s room for that matter? Why hadn’t he gone home and slept in his bed? But then I knew why.
He wanted to be close to me. In case I needed him. And he didn’t want to violate my space by sleeping in my bed without my permission, and he wouldn’t wake me up to ask it. So he’d squished himself on a glorified cushioned windowsill instead.
Something happened in my chest. A flutter. Or a crack. I had to clutch it with a hand like a part of me was going to spill out.
I’m not sure why, but I knew I’d always remember this. The breeze rolling gently through the curtains on either side of him. The curve of his shoulder and the way he didn’t make the room feel crowded even though anyone in my room who wasn’t Maddy took up too much space.
I thought too about the other night on the lawn. His hands gliding up my rib cage. His mouth on my neck and the warm way he smelled and the feel of his kiss.
I drank in his gentle breathing sounds. The rise and fall of his chest. And something in me accepted him. Opened up and let him in. I felt the stirring of something in my belly so rare to me I could count the occurrences of it on one hand.
Justin was on the island.
Not the real one. The one in my soul.
My eyes teared up at the realization. I didn’t know how to process it. It scared me, and I didn’t know what it meant or what I should do now or how it would change things. But suddenly nothing was the same.
I made my way over to the window and shook him gently. “Justin.”
He startled awake. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Come to bed.”
He stared up at me in the dark like he didn’t believe what he’d heard.
“Come to bed,” I said again. “Come on.”
He peered at me another moment. Then he got up and came to bed.
When I got under the covers, I scooted over to snuggle up next to him. He wrapped his arms around me and tucked the blanket over my shoulder like this was the most natural thing in the world to him and we’d slept like this a thousand times before. I put a palm over his heart and lay there feeling the rhythmic beating under my hand.
I wanted to tell him how much I’d missed him. That I’d stared at pictures that had only fragments of him in them, how I’d dreamed about him and how I felt when he came to the cottage.
I didn’t know why it was so hard to say what I was feeling. Maybe because it felt hard to feel what I was feeling.
