Julian looked so good! She had almost forgotten the intensity of her attraction, but when he pulled her into his arms and she breathed in his scent, she felt she could faint from it. He held her wordlessly, and it felt like they were alone in the world there in the musty air and dim light of Marine Specialties.
She’d fantasized about their reunion endlessly, but in her daydreams (a) she had not been pregnant, and (b) it hadn’t taken place under a movie poster from the 1987 vampire film The Lost Boys.
“My God, I didn’t even realize how much I missed you until this second,” he said, pulling back and looking at her.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, uncomfortable under his gaze. Would he be able to tell? Did she look different? It was vitally important to her to get through whatever time they had together without mentioning the pregnancy. There wasn’t even a question; she would not tell him. Seeing him again was a gift—a fleeting, impossible offering from the universe that was knocking her about just to show her who was boss. She had capitulated: Universe, you win! But here was one last thing, at least, she could control.
She would not ruin their reunion with the messy truth.
He kissed her and murmured something about getting out of there.
“Where are you staying?” she asked him.
“A place called Captain Jack’s. You have to see my room. It’s like being on a boat.”
They walked down Commercial, his arm around her waist, keeping her close. Every guy they passed shot him an appreciative glance, and it gave Marin an odd sense of possessive pride. For just a few minutes, she let herself feel like she was part of a normal couple, reveling in the mundane happiness of being in love.
Captain Jack’s was a quirky hotel out on a wharf, a long string of cabins right on the water. It was the type of establishment you’d be hard-pressed to find outside of Provincetown. Julian led her to a shingled cabin painted bright green and facing the bay. The building was framed by dock pilings decorated with old buoys flaking with paint, threaded with long ropes of Christmas lights. A sign outside the cabin read NO SMOKING. NO CATS.
Inside, the room had vaulted wood ceilings, white wood floors, French doors opening onto the deck, and plenty of wide windows. It was decorated with nautical bric-a-brac. He had a view of the Long Point lighthouse in the distance.
“This is beautiful,” she said, feeling nervous.
Julian reached for her wordlessly and led her to the bed. His touch felt so good she could barely breathe, but she worried that he would notice the distinct new curve to her belly, the fullness of her breasts.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured.
“I missed you too,” she said, her body arching toward him. And when he was inside of her, her thoughts were no longer coherent enough for worry.
Afterward, she curled against him, willing herself to just enjoy the moment and not think about the reality that, when confessed, would destroy this very temporary happiness.
“Is that a tattoo?” he asked.
“What?” She’d forgotten about the beach rose. It was already a part of her—the new her, the woman who woke up to take long walks on the beach instead of a walk to the subway, who spent her morning cutting tile instead of filing briefs, and who had a baby growing inside of her.
“Yes. It’s a beach rose. I got it the first week I was here.”
“Interesting.”
“Interesting good or interesting bad?”
“You tell me,” he said, stroking her hair. “Marin, what’s going on? You’re not just out here to get away from everything that happened in New York, are you? Why did you get so mad on the phone and bring up Genie?”
She rubbed the inside of her wrist, and it all came pouring out: her Genie results, Rachel’s e-mail and phone calls and the road trip and all that had happened since the last time she saw him.
“You were trying to tell me that morning after you got back from visiting your mom in Philadelphia,” he said. “When you asked me about the statistical likelihood of error?”
“I wasn’t trying to tell you. I wanted plausible deniability. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, let alone you.”
He started saying all the right things, about how she could have talked to him about it—should have talked to him about it. It should have been a comfort to her, but it just made her feel that much worse about the one thing she still was not telling him.
“Can we go to the inn?” he said. “I want to see where you’ve been staying all summer.”
“This wasn’t how I envisioned you meeting my family,” she said.
“I never knew that you had envisioned me meeting your family,” he said, smiling and squeezing her hand. She pulled her hand away, not wanting to encourage him. This could not go anywhere. They would have a good day or two, and then he would go back to New York. And by the time she returned to New York, visibly pregnant, it would be over.
Just because Julian had missed her, just because he had shown up to visit, didn’t mean he wanted a baby. And it certainly didn’t mean he wanted a baby that might belong to her former fiancé.
But for now, he was there with her. Stay in the moment, she told herself. You can have one day of happiness.
“We’ll see who’s home. It might be just Kelly in her studio.” She felt a flicker of excitement to introduce him to Kelly. Then, afterward, she could talk to Kelly about all of her complicated feelings. Kelly would understand.
“Marin, I want to make this work. Let’s turn all of the craziness of the past few months—the work stuff, all this upheaval with your family—into something positive. Let’s build, okay? We can do this.”
She closed her eyes. We can do this. Oh, how she wanted to believe he was right.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Blythe knelt on the grass and hammered the last of four wooden stakes into the ground to wall off the patch of fresh soil she’d tilled. Next, she would cover the garden bed with compost. Working in the heat, panting with exertion, she still couldn’t quiet her mind.