by Katy Regnery
“Maybe,” I say. “But that’s what I needed to swing this place, so I don’t care.”
That afternoon two weeks ago in Coupeville, after tasting wines at the Aspen Wine Shop, I ducked around the corner to meet Janelle of Front Lane Realty. And when I left Whidbey Island on the ferry that evening with Leigh, I had put a bid on a three-bedroom house with a water view, the sale contingent on my being able to sell my apartment in Seattle.
Jude hooked me up with the realtor for the Hawks that Monday, and by Wednesday, I had an “asking price” bid on my apartment. Both places have gone to contract now, and pending inspections, the transfers will take place at the beginning of September. Until then, I’m renting this house, although technically speaking, it’s almost mine.
Leigh was already on board with my decision to move, of course—hell, it was her idea—but when I spoke to Frumplestein and Steve, asking how they’d feel about my working from home three days a week and only in the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays, they were surprisingly supportive—I guess because after promoting my face as half of ‘The Voice of Seattle,’ they don’t want to risk losing me.
Everything’s falling into place now. In fact, there’s only one major piece of the puzzle missing: Luke and his kids. My fervent hope is that they’ll want to be residents of Whidbey Island too. If they don’t...
I take a deep breath and hold it.
If they don’t...If they don’t...
Nope. I need to stay positive. If nothing else, Luke will see that my commitment to him and our relationship is airtight and solid. And that’s got to mean something, right?
In the meantime, Leigh’s right: I’ve gambled my entire future on this idea.
“Hey, Manda...you still there?”
“Mm-hm. Just having a minor panic attack.”
“Stow away those anxious thoughts, girl. It’s going to be good. He wants a solution. You’re offering a perfect one.”
“What if it’s not a solution he likes? Moving? Transferring his kids to another school? Maybe I should have asked him first? What if—”
“Stop what-iffing. Neither Sitka nor Seattle was going to work out. I think this is a great idea.”
“Maybe I should have rented instead of purchased.”
“Hey, Jude!” calls Leigh. “Say it again, baby!”
And from another room of the Stanton house, I hear Jude’s voice boom, “GO BIG OR GO HOME!”
“The man has spoken,” says Leigh with reverence.
“Amen,” say I.
***
An hour later, the Kingstons pull into my new driveway in a rental car, and I swing open the front door to greet them.
Meghan races to the porch and throws her little arms around my waist. “We rode on a plane and a boat!”
“A ferry,” I say. “Did you like it?”
“Yes! It was windy, and I loved it!”
“Hey, Gilly,” I say, opening one arm to her while keeping the other around Meg.
“Hi, Amanda,” she says, giving me a hug. “This place is cool.”
“It’s called Whidbey Island.”
“I know,” she says. “Daddy showed it to us on a map.”
“We passed an ice cream shop,” Meghan informs me.
“It’s soooo good,” I tell her. “How about we stop there after dinner?”
Chad approaches us, carrying a backpack on his shoulder and pulling his sister’s suitcases behind.
“Hey, Chad,” I say. “You made it.”
“Yep,” he says. He doesn’t smile at me, but he doesn’t sneer either, so I guess that’s a step in the right direction.
“How was your trip?”
“The ferry was okay, I guess.”
“I like it too,” I tell him. I gesture inside. “You guys are staying upstairs. Meg and Gilly, you’re sharing the peach-colored room. Chad, the blue bedroom is all yours.”
The girls run up the stairs to check out their weekend digs, but Chad lingers in the doorway for a minute.
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I was such a jerk last time.”
“You weren’t,” I say.
“Yes, I was,” he insists. “It wasn’t you.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “How about we start over?” I hold out my hand. “I’m Amanda, and you are...?”
“Charles Kingston,” he says. “But my friends call me Chad.”
I can’t help smiling at his handsome face, so earnest like his dad. “It’s really nice to meet you, Chad.”
“You too, Amanda. Thanks for inviting us here for the weekend.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I tell him, squeezing his hand once before letting it go, his footsteps on the stairs and laughter with his little sisters music to my ears.
When I look up, Luke is standing a few feet away from me, a pink backpack on each shoulder and a large black duffel bag in one hand. He’s wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt that says, “North to the Future.” Tall and ridiculously handsome, my heart skips a beat when we lock eyes.
“Welcome,” I say, feeling a little choked up.
The duffel hits the ground with a thud, the backpacks follow, and a moment later, I’m in his arms and his lips are on mine. His tongue slides into my mouth, hot and hungry, and I whimper with pleasure, leaning into him, against him, savoring the feeling of being held by him once again after these terrible weeks apart. His fingers curl into my ass, pushing the softness of my sex into the growing hardness of his and groaning into my mouth when I arch my back and rub my breasts against his chest.
A car engine turns over next door, and I draw away, feeling drunk and wanting but also aware that we’re standing on my front porch.
“What will the neighbors think?” I ask.
“Good thing you’re just renting,” he says.
I cup his face with my hands, the scruff of his jaw feeling right under my palm again. “I missed you.”
“I love you,” he says in return. “The second the kids are asleep...”
“Mm-hm,” I hum. “Great minds. And I love you too.”
It surprises me a little how easy it is to tell Luke that I love him. I don’t even think about it—the words appear of their own volition because they want to. Because they are my truth and all that matters.
“This place is so great,” says Luke, bending down to pick up the bags and bring them into the house.
“The island?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Reminds me a lot of home, actually. The water. The Olympics in the distance. We went through a few small towns on the drive up. It’s such a pretty place.”
My heart leaps at this admission, but I face forward as I lead him upstairs to “our” room. When I swing open the door, he gasps.
“Wow. Great view! What peak is that?”
“Mount Baker,” I say, crossing the bedroom and opening the sliding door to the deck. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“I’ll say,” he answers, grinning at me before looking at the mountain again. He pulls me back into his arms and kisses me, but he’s gentler this time—less greedy, less hungry. Just being together makes our restless souls peaceful again. “So what’s on today’s agenda?”
His lips skim down the column of my throat, scrambling my brain, though I try to concentrate. “Umm. Lunch. I can order pizzas. Then sightseeing, if you want. Or we can swim off the dock. I got marshmallows for roasting tonight, and the girls want to go to the ice cream shop, I think.”
“And then?”
His blue eyes are dark when they look into mine.
“Bed,” I whisper.
He kisses me again, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to tangle with mine. I love his kids, I remind myself, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be impatient for alone time with their dad. A gale of laughter from down the hall makes me break off the kiss and step away.
“You better stop kissing me,” I say, looking pointedly at his erection, which is tenting the thick denim of his jeans. “Or we’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”
He glances over my shoulder at the door to our room, which is open, then growls softly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“Put your stuff wherever you want,” I say, grinning at him as I back out of the room. “I’ll go downstairs and order food.”
An hour later, we’ve stuffed ourselves with pizza, and the kids are swimming off the dock. Luke dragged two Adirondack chairs from the lawn to the dock, and we’re sitting in bathing suits, side by side, watching his kids swim in the sunshine. Luke’s got a beer in one hand, and he holds mine with the other, looking relaxed, looking happy.
“I could get used to this.” Looking at me, he grins. “Beautiful woman. Happy kids. Cold beer.”
“Not bad, huh?”
“Not bad,” he says, nudging me in the thigh, “but we still need to talk.”
“I know,” I say, trying not to wiggle too much in my seat. On one hand, I’m dying to tell him that I bought this place and want him and the kids to move down here. On the other, I’d like some kind of reassurance that he’ll be on board with my plan before spilling the beans. “I know you don’t want to move, but—”
“Amanda,” he says, “I’m not against moving. In some ways, actually, I think it could be good for me and the kids to have a fresh start somewhere new. Sitka is where Wendy and I were together, you know? We got married there, bought a house there, raised our kids there. I could see how Sitka might feel weird for...”
“Me.”
“You,” he confirms, squeezing my hand. “It would be awkward to ask you to live in a house that belonged to my late wife. I wouldn’t do that to you. So believe me, I see moving in my future.”
“That means a lot to me,” I say. I look at his kids splashing around in the water, wondering—hoping—that his move might bring him here to Whidbey.
“But to be clear,” he says softly, taking a sip of beer, “not to Seattle. I can’t live there, Amanda. I don’t want to raise my kids there.”
“I know,” I say. “At first, I didn’t really get it. I figured, you were from Seattle, you went to college there, but after the carnival...” I look at Meghan, who has water wings on her little arms. She’s still such a baby, so vulnerable and young. “If anything had happened to her...”
“Thank God you were there,” says Luke, raising my hand to his lips and kissing it. “You saved her life.”
I look at him as he lingers over my hand. “I get why you want them to grow up somewhere small and safe—where they can ride their bikes to town for ice cream in the summer, or stop by the local library, or go swimming with their friends.”
“Exactly,” he says. “Are we on the same page?”
“I think so,” I say. “But I don’t want to give up my job.”
“I get that. You are, after all, ‘The Voice of Seattle.’”
I punch him in the arm. “You know I had nothing to do with that!”
“Ouch!” He chuckles and nods. “Okay, okay. But all kidding aside...could you really see yourself moving out of the city?”
“I could,” I say, “if I was still close enough to Seattle to keep my job.”
“So...a suburb? Commutable?”
I nod, already knowing that my office hours have been drastically reduced. “I think Steve would let me work from home a few days a week.”
“Really? That would be great! So you’d just go into the city a couple times a week?”
“Mm-hm,” I hum, “and the rest of the time I’d be home. I could grab the kids at school, make dinner for us...that sort of stuff.”
“Could that sort of stuff include us spending my lunch breaks together?” he asks, his voice low and soft.
“I’d insist on it,” I say, grinning at him as I recall those steamy afternoons in my Sitka rental apartment.
“Don’t look now,” he says, “but I think we’re actually coming up with a plan. We just have to narrow down where and when.”
“Daddy!” yells Meghan, paddling over to the edge of the dock. “Come in and throw me!”
“The where and when can wait ’til later,” I say. “Your daughter wants to be thrown!”
Luke reaches for my face, drawing it closer to his and giving me a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re amazing.”
“I just know what I want,” I say, watching as the love of my life jumps into the water to play with his children.
***
Luke
As much as I have loved an afternoon of swimming, an evening spent BBQing and watching a movie on TV, I’m more than ready for some time alone with my girlfriend.
“Upstairs, troops!” I say, shepherding my two sleepy, older kids toward the stairs after lifting Meghan off the couch to carry her. She fell asleep halfway through the movie, her head on Amanda’s lap.
Hand to God, the way my children are bonding with Amanda during this visit has me hoping for big things, for forever things.
As I approach the stairs, I turn around to see Amanda picking up popcorn bowls and spent juice boxes. “Meet you in our room?”
“You bet.”
She winks at me, and I feel her smile to the tips of my toes.
Talking on the dock about both of us moving to a Seattle suburb makes me feel like we’re making real progress on our plans for the future, but right now, I just want to be with her. I want her naked and warm and willing in my arms.
Thank God I insisted on baths and pajamas before the movie so I can ease Meg under her covers and turn off the light. When I turn to Gilly in the bed beside Meghan, she reaches for me, so I sit down beside her, gathering her against my chest.
“You love Amanda, Daddy, don’t you?”
“Yep, Gilly-bean. I do.” I pause for a second, still hugging her. “Is that okay?”
“I think so,” says Gilly. “You’re sad and mad when she’s far away, and I like it better when you’re happy. All day today you were happy.”
“I’ve been pretty grumpy lately, huh?” I lean away to catch her eyes in the dim light.
She shrugs. “I get it.”
She makes me smile, my eleven-year-old going on eighteen.
“I love you, Dad,” she says, laying her head on the pillow.
I kiss her forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
I leave the door cracked, then walk down the hall to Chad’s room. He’s lying in bed, looking at his phone, and I stand in the doorway, realizing how much he’s grown this summer. The way he apologized to Amanda this morning made my chest swell with pride.
“Hey, son.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“You all set in here?”
“Yeah.” He turns off his phone and sets it on the bedside table, and I yank the pull chain on the lamp, darkening the room. “Hey, Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s okay.”
“What is?”
“You and Amanda,” he says. “She’s nice. And we...well, I kind of think we need her.”
I cock my head to the side. “You think so?”
“She’ll never be my mom,” he says quickly. “But it’s not that bad having her around.”
“I’m glad to hear that, son.”
“Good night, Dad,” he says, rolling to his side.
“Good night, Chad,” I tell him, closing the door behind me as I head back down the hall toward Amanda’s and my room. On the way, I peek in at my girls, finding both snoring softly.
When I get to our room, Amanda’s not there, so I assume she’s still downstairs. Instead of going to find her, I decide to jump in the shower real quick. I let the hot water rivulet down my body, thinking about the Seattle suburbs I remember from my childhood. There’s Snoqualmie to the east of the city, Kent and Auburn to the south...I’m sure there are countless places up north too, but we’ll have plenty of time to narrow down towns we like, looking into places with solid school districts. I’ll need to find a police department with an open position, of course, and that could take some time, but this is what I want. We’ll figure out a way to make it happen.
I wait for a feeling of sadness to accompany the realization that I will be leaving Sitka, but it doesn’t come. I will always love Sitka as the place where Wendy and I settled to raise our beautiful children, but a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying is released at the prospect of moving on. Sitka, despite its great natural beauty, will also and always be the place where Wendy—and the dreams we shared together—died a shocking and terrible death. Moving to a Seattle suburb with Amanda and starting fresh? It feels good. It feels...right.
I turn off the water and wrap a fluffy white towel around my waist, mentally thanking the owners of this rental for choosing such nice accessories for their renters. I run my hands through my hair, brush my teeth quickly, then open the bathroom door, surprised to find the room dark but seemingly empty.
“Amanda?”
“Out here,” she calls from the deck. I hadn’t noticed, but the sliding door is open, and a candle is flickering on the balcony.
I grab a pair of boxer briefs from the bedside table and pull them on, then hang up the towel on the bathroom knob.
Outside, she’s sitting on one side of a two-person Adirondack loveseat, staring out at the water, which sparkles under the light of a full moon and a host of twinkling stars.
“Hey,” I say.
“I saved you a seat,” she says.
I sit down next to her. She’s changed out of her jeans and T-shirt and into a light-colored, satiny nightgown that hugs her unbound breasts, dips low in the front, and makes my mouth water.
“I thought you’d be in bed,” I say, putting my arm around her to pull her closer to me.
“Nope.”
She reaches for a glass of wine on the table in front of the loveseat and takes a sip without saying anything else or looking at me.
“Everything okay?” I ask her. I’m not the best at reading women, but I was married for fourteen years. “You seem...quiet.”
She shifts a little in her seat to look at me. Her red hair catches the moonlight, and her lips are soft and shiny from the wine she’s drinking. She’s the most effortlessly sexy woman I’ve ever known, and the fact that she wants to build a future with me is a miracle I never saw coming.
“Do you like it here?” she asks me, her eyes searching mine in the moonlight.
“Here on this balcony?”
