“I’m sure.” A little softer she adds, “Just hold me.”
Those three simple words burrow deep and threaten to shatter my heart. I slide one arm under her body and pull her close, curling myself around her in an attempt to protect her from the world. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Sunshine.”
“It’s okay.” She sighs and turns to face me. “Probably better that you weren’t. You might’ve punched the doctor for being mean to me.”
I lean in and kiss her forehead. “Can’t promise I’m not going to hunt her down later.”
“How’d it go?”
“What? My ride?”
“You stopped to see Rock, didn’t you?”
That’s the last thing I want to talk about now. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“No. Please. I need…to hear your voice. Tell me about your trip. Take my mind off of…things.”
My throat’s so tight, I can barely speak. “First, do you need anything? Advil? Water? Food?”
“No, just you.”
I kiss the top of her head and run my hands over her back. “Like I said on the phone, I went to Niagara Falls.”
“Canadian side or American?”
“Canada.”
“Really? What made you cross the border?”
I hesitate, not sure if I can put it into words that’ll have any meaning. But that’s why Charlotte and I work so well—she always helps me make sense of the most absurd situations. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this trip I took with my parents…uh, my mother and her husband, when I was a kid. Before Heidi.”
“BH, huh?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle.
“I bet you were so cute when you were little… I was hoping… I wanted…” Her voice breaks.
“Shhh. It’s okay.” I lean closer and rub my forehead against hers. “I was a scrawny daredevil who scared the shit out of my parents because I kept asking about going over the falls in a barrel.”
The silly memory does the trick. A quick chuckle spills from Charlotte, her warm breath sliding over my neck. “Go on,” she encourages.
“We visited my mom’s cousin or aunt. I vaguely remember sitting in her kitchen drinking loganberry juice.”
“Ooo, I remember that stuff. It was so good. My dad used to bring us home loganberry syrup whenever he went up there on a run.”
“You’re in luck. I brought you home a bottle.”
She squeezes me again. “You’re the best fiancé.”
Pleasure that I did at least one thing right fills me for a second, then evaporates. “No, I’m not. I should’ve been here, Char—”
“Knock it off and finish your story.”
This woman. God damn, I love her.
“Everything’s changed so much, I barely recognized anything. Couldn’t find the house. Who knows if I was even looking in the right place?”
“What were you going to do if you found it?”