“In love.”
He smiles. “Oh yeah. And lust. God, I’ve never been so horny all the time.” He shakes his head. “If you only knew how bad it was sometimes. It’s probably what drove Sierra away.”
We laugh because it’s all ancient history. Sierra’s doing better now and back in our lives, excited to be an aunt. I do have a confession. “I probably didn’t really get it back then. I mean, I loved and wanted you all but I was caught up in the emotions of everything, but I think I get it better now.”
His eyebrow raises. “Explain.”
I still feel the slight hint of a blush on my cheeks when talking about this to them. It’s just my nature. “You know the stories about pregnancy making a woman want sex? I definitely don’t think it’s an old wive's tale.”
“So, the tables are turned. You’re the one horny all the time.” His smile is adorable, his lips pink, and yeah, it makes me think lurid thoughts. “I moved down here to take care of you this summer. Everyone else is gone…I guess it’s up to me to fulfill those needs.”
“Are you going to be obnoxious about this?” I ask.
He pushes me gently against the house. “Oh yeah.”
I smile against his mouth, feeling his want, feeling my own. I let him lead me back to the house, not my house, but the Wayward Sun, and I let him take care of me, the way we always have and always will.
The Fourth of July is always probably my favorite celebration in Lee Vines. It’s warm, the energy is perfect, locals, tourists, guests and returnees all gather like one big family reunion.
A hectic, crazy family reunion, but that seems pretty typical too.
Dexter is happily mired in pies, his kitchen running like a machine at this point. Jake and George set up the stage. Charlie pulls out the old sound equipment, sorting through his boxes, updating the technology.
We call in the bands, the vendors, the fireworks people. Katie, with her own baby slung across her chest, manages the front desk, attending to each and every need of our guests.
On the actual day I stand on the lawn, overlooking the lake below, the water salty but clear. I take a deep breath and feel the buzz of energy around me.
“There you are,” Charlie says, handing me a bottle of water. “I just wanted to let you know I think I’ve got it all set up.”
I kiss
his cheek. “Thank you. One less thing to worry about.”
“You know you could have let someone else take over this year.”
I give him a look and he holds out his hands in surrender. As if. My grandmother would kill me.
A group of kids run by, dragging their bikes and wagons and scooters. There’s a meet up spot by Epic where they can decorate for the parade that starts in about an hour. I watch those kids, thinking about the one in my belly. Will he or she love Lee Vines, too? Or will they want to run away like my mother?
“You okay?” he asks, slipping an arm around my waist. I lean into him. He provides me quiet peace.
“Just thinking about this town and how much it means to me.”
“I never understood why you loved it so much until I left. Living here could be hard for me, as an introvert. There’s nowhere to hide. I felt a little relief in college and once I lived in a city. I could breathe. No one was watching. No one wanted to know about my brother, my foster family, my past.” He swallows. “Or my dad.”
I wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his chest. We’re both sticky from the heat but I don’t mind. We’re way beyond that.
“But now,” he says. “I get it. I get the people that live here. I understand."
Over the last four weeks, with my belly growing bigger, my boys back in town, us living openly together, I’ve come to realize why I love it here. Why I’ve always loved it here.
It’s my home.
These are my people.
“The original Starlee and her husband bought this little strip of land to build a life. And my family kept it going, expanding little by little.” I squeeze him and he touches my stomach, which is bigger and bigger every day. “And now I’ll keep it going and we’ll maintain this little part of the world so that this little one feels safe.” I turn to face him. “I almost wonder if she knew we’d need it one day. As a safe, non-judgmental place to heal and grow a family.”
“Maybe.”