The Long and Winding Road (The Seafare Chronicles 4)

“THANK YOU, everyone, for showing up on time! You have all been awarded one Sunshine Point for Arriving on Time. If, at the end of the class, you’ve accrued six Sunshine Points, you may turn them in for a hug and a yogurt parfait with chopped walnuts. Oh, who am I kidding, you’ll get those anyway, because what do we say here at Lamazing Grace?”

“Hugs are love!” most everyone chants around us.

“Bear, sit down.”

“He made it weird.”

Otter tugs me back onto the mat.

IT’S NOT—okay, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Sure, Marty is ridiculous, and I couldn’t care less about the goddamn Sunshine Points. And hell, the breathing part of it is all right, learning that the whole hee hoooo thing you see on TV and movies is pretty much bullshit. It’s all about the deep breaths, the parasympathetic breathing to help relax, to slow each breath, to drop your heart rate and blood pressure. I’d always thought it was just a dumb thing that was meant to be a distraction for women in labor, but it’s actually starting to make sense.

And yes, Megan is a pro at it. She’s diligent and watchful, listening as if it’s her first time she’s ever been in the class. She, of course, ends up getting fifteen Sunshine Points by the time she’s done. “I’m going

to destroy that yogurt parfait,” she tells us, eyes dancing.

The other couples in the class seem to be just as into it as Megan is, following along like it’s the last thing they’ll ever do.

And Marty isn’t… so bad. I mean, if you ignore basically everything about him. He’s happy doing what he’s doing, and he seems to be all right at it.

But it’s not any of that, really, that I seem to focus on.

It’s Otter. And how serious he’s taking all of this.

He’s sitting behind Megan, her back to his chest, and breathing in deeply when instructed. He’s got his tongue stuck out between his teeth, looking a little like Izzie does when she’s really concentrating. He’s watching Marty closely, taking every instruction to heart.

He’s good at this.

He’s really good at this.

Why wouldn’t he be? Otter Thompson throws himself into everything. He’s never backed down, not really, not when it’s counted. And this is something that he wants, something he’s been waiting for. It took me a long time to get my head out of my ass, to finally want something just for us, and he was so patient with me. He knew I’d get there one day, and now here we are.

He must feel me staring at him, because he looks over at me and smiles. “Am I doing it right?”

“Yeah,” I tell him hoarsely. “You’re doing it right.”

He frowns a little. “Are you okay?”

“It happens,” Megan tells him, tipping her head back. “The daddies get a little emotional. He’s having feelings right now.”

“And that means you get a Sunshine Point for the Power of Love,” Marty singsongs as he skips by me.

Goddamn right I do.

AFTER THE class, Megan is doing exactly what she threatened to do: she’s destroying her yogurt parfait while Marty gives out hugs to everyone. Otter and I are sitting at the table across from her, wide-eyed, like we’re on an African safari and witnessing a lion taking down a gazelle. I don’t know that I can ever eat a yogurt parfait again. Which is probably a good thing, seeing as how Megan would probably tackle me for it.

“So good,” she mumbles.

“It certainly looks like it,” Otter says politely.

“Would you like some?” she asks, holding the spoon out to us.

“I don’t want to lose my hand,” I tell her before Otter kicks me underneath the table.

She shrugs and gets back to it.

“My love, my light,” Marty says, coming to sit next to Megan. He kisses her on the cheek. “Mmm. Peach flavored. How fascinating it is that you normally hate peaches.”

“I ate asparagus and peanut butter for dinner last night,” Megan tells us.