Page 103 of Seven Summers Ago
“So, you cook breakfast now?” I snicker. This is new too. There had been plenty of times when he cooked for Milo. But it was less cooking and more being creative and preparing whatever they had in their kitchen, which sometimes wasn’t much.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by how much my skills have improved.”
“Are you kidding, I’m already impressed by how much your skills have improved.” I smirk up at him and he flashes me a boyish grin.
“In the kitchen, I meant,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to my temple as we walk. “You know if I’m any better at sex it’s not from practice, that’s for damn sure. Maybe it’s because I’ve gone so long without it. Withoutyou.”
I clutch at his hand and stop him. He glances down at me, and I search his face for hurt but it’s not visible in his expression. Instead, there’s hope and appreciation.
“I’ve missed you like crazy,” he admits, tenderness in his tone.
“I’ve missed you too,” I confess. “I’ve missed…this.” I draw up to him for one more slow kiss. It’s laced with passion but not lust. Like we are marking this moment as it is—significant.
Pulling back, I exhale a light sigh and release my grip on him, and he groans loudly. I can’t help but smile.
“C’mon.” I tug his hand. “Cars. Charlie. Then home and breakfast.” The wordsCharlieandhomein the same sentence when speaking with Beck fills my heart with a yearning of family. A real family with him. Something I didn’t think would ever be possible.
As we’re about to take the steps down to the lower level, my gaze lands on the small parking lot near the dock. I recognize the figure standing there; arms crossed and a bewildered expression smeared on his face. My feet halt and I drop Beck’s hand.
It’s West. Here. In Golden Harbor. At the ferry dock.
“Hey, you okay?” Beck asks, ready to take the first step down below.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, barely able to look at him. I hesitantly glance up at him and shake my head before gesturing at West with my chin.
It takes a moment for Beck to skim the crowd before his eyes land on him. He instantly goes rigid. “West?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was coming,” I whisper.
Beck’s jaw ticks. “I thought you guys were over?”
“We were. We are. It’s complicated,” I stammer.
“It’s not that complicated. You’re either with him or you’re not.”
I reach for his hand but he flinches and my chest spasms. “Beck—” His name cracks as it rushes out. “I’m sorry. We’re not. But…”
“But what?”
“I have to think about Charlie too.”
“No, you’re not using Charlie as an excuse this time. Because if you did, you’d know she would want us to be together. You’re doing this for you.”
Glancing between him and West, I say, “I just need some time.”
“You had time. You had seven fucking years.”
“Beck, please.”
“I love you, Rosie. But I’m not gonna be your consolation prize.”
“You’re not. Never. Besides Charlie, you’re my favorite person,” I declare, desperation in each pulse of my heartbeat.
“I don’t like sharingmy wife,” he growls.
The way he saysmy wifecauses a welcomed burn to radiate between my thighs. I touch his arm, and this time he allows it. “I love you.”
“Prove it.”
