I nodded my head furiously. “Totally.”
Jake unstrung them and set them all free. “We just wasted hours.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry.”
He grinned at me and shrugged. “It was worth it.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, right there in view of everyone else who was on the beach.
And that was the day I knew I was head over heels for Jake.
29
Katie
“We’re not taking the canoe?” I ask Jake as we walk to the end of the dock.
He sits down and pulls his shoes off. Then he leans over and pulls my sandals off too. He pats the dock beside him. “Sit,” he says.
“Why aren’t we taking the canoe?” I have to admit it: I kind of wanted to go out in the canoe for old times’ sake.
He points at my belly. “I’m not doing anything that would put you or that in danger. What if we tipped the canoe over and you fell in the cold water? What if you went into labor?” He shakes his head. “We can fish just fine from right here.”
“You’re such a coward,” I taunt. He takes my hand and guides me as I sit down next to him. “I might need a forklift to get me back up.”
“I’ll help you.” He leans over and kisses me on the forehead. Then he cringes. “I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not mine.” He shakes his head and looks at my belly. “It should be so obvious. I mean, seriously, you have that.” He motions toward my big stomach. “It’s right in front of you, like a basketball. But bigger.” He stares at it.
“It’s okay, Jake. You can kiss my forehead. Or my cheek. You can touch my belly. It’s all right. I promise.”
“It’s not all right,” he complains. “You are not mine. You’re someone else’s. I keep forgetting that.” He quietly tosses his line in the water and stares hard at his bobber.
“I’m not anybody’s, Jake. Not anymore.”
His head jerks up. “What?”
“It’s kind of hard to explain.”
He hands me a fishing pole. “Start at the beginning. How did you meet your husband?”
“Oh, that’s easy to explain.” I let out a breath. “I met Jeff at basic, right after I joined the military.”
“Love at first sight, right?” His green eyes don’t meet mine.
I rock my head back and forth like I’m thinking about it. But I don’t need to think hard. “Pretty much. Then we got pregnant right away. With Gabby.”
He just sits staring silently ahead.
“We haven’t seen one another in eighteen years, Jake. You can’t fault me for falling in love with my husband.”
He nods. “I know. I just wonder what might have happened between us if we’d never stopped writing to one another. If we hadn’t let that fizzle out, where would we be now?”
“There’s no way to know that.” I set my pole on the dock next to me and squeeze my hands together. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t take it back. I loved him. The way I felt for my husband eclipsed what we had at sixteen. That was puppy love compared to what it feels like making a family with someone.”
He grunts.
“You loved Laura, right?”
He finally meets my eyes. “What I feel for you right now eclipses what I ever felt for her.”
My belly drops down toward my toes. “You don’t mean that.”
“It’s stupid, I know.”
I lay a hand on his knee, which is jumping in place. “It’s not stupid. It’s just not real, either.”
“It’s real,” he says.
“Okay…” I say slowly.
“Let’s fish,” Jake says. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“I’m going to beat the pants off you, Jake,” I tease.
He grins. “You want my pants off, Katie, you just let me know. You don’t have to outfish me for that.”
I can’t hold back my grin. “You suck.”
Jake bumps my shoulder gently with his. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says.
“Me too.”
30
Katie
A note stuck to the door lets me know that Dad and Adam have taken the little kids to the store to get baby supplies and food.
Katie,
You have no diapers, no baby clothes, and almost no food. We’re going to buy out the store. Back later.
Adam
PS. We took two good-looking kids with us. And a dog.
Jake waves at me from his perch on the golf cart. “Everything okay?”
I hold up the note. “My parents took the two little kids to the store. They’ll be back soon. I think I might take a nap.” I yawn into my fist. I am tired and my back is killing me.
“Sleep well,” he calls, and then he drives away.
I let myself into the cabin. I haven’t locked the door since we got here. But the moment I step inside, I freeze.
The afghan that’s usually flung haphazardly across the back of the couch is now folded neatly. And the games are all stacked on the table, all with their names facing out, in alphabetical order. The dishes that were in the sink have been washed and put away. And I bet that if I look in the bathroom, all the towels are folded in thirds on the shelf.
My heart gallops in my chest. I turn to run back out the door, but a big body steps out from behind the door, slamming it before I can get out.