Summer Sunsets (28 page)

She looks at me, her eyes
luminous with tears. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
Her fingers clench the envelope so tightly her knuckles turn white,
and I sense she’s really stressing.

I bend low and kiss her
temple. “It’s okay. Really.” I touch the envelope. “What did he
want, anyway?”

“
Nothing.” She touches her
throat, as if that’s going to steady her voice and keep all the
pain inside. “He just wanted to see me and wish us
well.”

I pull her to me so her
head rests just below my chin, and once again it seems that no
matter if her father has appeared with well-meant intentions,
they’ve turned out to be anything but helpful. “Okay, well, you
need to forget about it for a while and enjoy the day you worked so
hard to put together.” I kiss her forehead and smile.

“
Don’t you drop me!” Skye
squeals as I carry her up the stairs to our apartment after we’ve
left the chaos of the wedding behind. Normally, carrying her isn’t
a problem; however, this time, she’s wearing this long white dress.
Don’t get me wrong—it’s beautiful and has only a slight train—but
it’s still getting in the way.

“
I’m not going to drop
you—unless you keep squirming like that.” I level a warning gaze in
her direction.

“
I can walk, you
know.”

I nod. “Normally, yes. Some
days are a little more clumsy than others, but you’re still alive,
and I’m only thinking of the life of our unborn son.”

“
Daughter!” she argues and
sticks her tongue out at me.

I laugh. “Yeah, that was
really mature. Is it the best you can do?”

“
Just remember what they say
about paybacks.”

I look at the stairs we’re
halfway up and shake my head. “That’s okay. We might never get off
this staircase to worry about those.”

She shrugs. “You were the
one who wanted to carry me.”

“
It’s an important
tradition,” I argue, and half stumble.

Skye cinches her grip
around my neck. “An important tradition that might just get us both
killed.”

“
Very funny,” I mutter and
manage to negotiate the rest of the stairs. The keys are in my hand
already. I never thought it would be so difficult seeing around
piles of white silk, but I still manage to find the lock and get
the key in. The lock clicks, and I twist the knob, swinging it wide
so I can carry her across the threshold before closing the door
with my foot and heading into the bedroom, where I’ve scattered
piles of red rose petals across a bed draped with mosquito netting.
As she catches sight of it, she inhales and smiles
again.

“
Devin, it’s
beautiful.”

“
So are you,” I say, gently
setting her on the bed. Once her head touches the pillow, I lie
next to her, feeling my heart start to speed up. It always does
when I’m around her. Somehow I think it always will.

For a moment, we just stare
at each other. Then, as I shift from lying on my side, I rise above
her and slowly lower myself so my lips touch hers. I stroke the
sides of her face, feeling myself getting lost in all she
is.

Her fingers reach for my
tux jacket and begin tugging it off before reaching for the buttons
on my white shirt. I pull back slightly so I can see her face,
liking the way her closed eyes suggest a peace I wasn’t sure I’d
ever see on her face again, not with all the stress we’ve been
under.

“
Skye?” My voice sounds
rough, and I know it’s all the emotions that are bursting inside
me. “Look at me, please.”

Her eyes slowly open, and
her lips part slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s waiting
for me. I smile and brush my fingers across her cheek and down her
throat, amazed at her beauty. She shudders at my touch, and that
broadens my grin because I know she feels the connection, too. She
feels what I feel.

“
I love you,” I whisper.
“I’ve always loved you.”

“
I love you, too,” she says,
drawing me closer so I’ll kiss her again.

In the heat of our lips
meeting, I feel her unbuttoning my shirt, and I feel myself
slipping out of my clothes before I ease the dress from Skye. As
usual, she’s so beautiful it takes my breath away, but I can tell
she’s self-conscious just by the way her hand lingers over her
stomach.

“
What’s the matter?” I touch
her hand. “Why are you trying so hard to hide your
stomach?”

“
It’s kind of
embarrassing.”

“
What? That you’re
pregnant?” I lay my hand on top of hers and twine our
fingers.

She shrugs. “I’m used to
having a flat tummy. It feels strange for you to look at me now
that I have an alien in me.”

I burst out laughing,
thinking of that old horror film. Only Skye would make that
connection. “You’re
not
carrying an alien, I’m sure.”

“
How do you know? Maybe
you’re an alien, too.” She reaches up and tousles my
hair.

“
Very funny.”

“
I thought so,” she
quips.

I lean close and kiss her
again, my hand still resting on her belly.

Suddenly I feel her body
stiffen, and I draw back, unsure what to make of it. A huge smile
crosses her face, and she inhales sharply. “Skye? What is
it?”

“
Didn’t you feel that?” Her
fingers wiggle beneath mine.

“
Feel what?” Although I’m
used to Skye getting side-tracked, this is unusual even for her—and
a little unnerving. What’s is going on?

Without saying a word, she
lifts my hand from atop hers and pushes my palm flat against her
stomach. When I start to say something and move, she shakes her
head and murmurs, “Just wait. You’ll understand.”

So I wait. I’m ready to
give up when I feel the slightest brush from beneath her skin, and
I tense. “What in the world?”

She smiles. “So it wasn’t
just me. You feel it, too, don’t you?”

Half-thinking it’s my
imagination, I wait, and there it is again—the slightest stroke
against my palm, so weird and foreign, like the alien she
mentioned.

“
Yeah,” I say cautiously,
trying to imagine the baby moving inside her. Yeah, Skye is small,
but our child is now definitely big enough to move, and when he or
she does, there’s a possibility Skye will feel it. I hadn’t
expected it.

“
Okay, maybe I was wrong and
you
are
carrying an
alien.

“
So not funny.” She elbows
me.

“
It’s incredible, Skye,” I
say, pushing my hand more firmly against her, waiting for another
brush. This time, it’s a bit harder. “Amazing.”

“
Yeah, I know.” She sets her
hand atop mine. “It feels so weird on the inside, like my stomach
is suddenly shifting. I can’t even begin to explain it.”

I stroke her skin,
wondering if he can feel that from the other side. It’s kind of
hard to tell because Skye immediately begins squirming,
demonstrating that she definitely feels it. “What are you doing?”
she gasps, between giggles.

“
Trying to see if our son
can feel that.”

“
It doesn’t matter if
our
daughter
feels
it. It tickles!” She grabs my hand to still it.

“
Party pooper!” I pretend to
pout.

“
I think you need a little
distraction.”

With that, she leans close
and kisses me, hard and heavy—nothing like the romantic sort that
happened in front of the wedding guests. This tells me exactly what
she has on her mind, and I’m not arguing.

The world slows to
half-speed as I touch her and revel in joining our bodies, and by
the time we’ve spent ourselves, we’re both sweaty and tired.
Instead of lingering in bed, Skye grabs her robe from the closet
and slips it on.

“
Where are you going?” I
ask, propping myself up on one elbow.

“
To get some water. You want
anything?” She ties the robe closed, which is really too bad
because I was enjoying the view.

“
Just you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Poor
you. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Although I roll to my side and try to find sleep, it feels wrong
just to lie in this bed all by myself, and no matter if I turn to
the other side, flip on my back, or even roll onto my stomach, it
doesn’t stop me from thinking about the other side of the bed, now
empty.

It’s taking a long time for
her to get a drink so I stand, tug a pair of jeans on, and head
toward the kitchen to find Skye standing there. Yes, there is a
glass of water nearby, but what she’s focusing on is the card from
her father, still unopened in her hand. Part of me wishes she would
just throw it away and be done with it. She deserves
better.

But Skye’s not going to do
that. No, her fingers peel up under the envelope flap and tug it up
so she can ease the card out and open it. For a few seconds, I
debate whether I should clear my throat so she’ll see me standing
there—or should I just leave, or maybe just walk in without
warning? Instead, I stand there, waiting, unsure what to do because
I sense this is a private moment for Skye.

She reads the card, and her
expression abruptly changes as tears pool in her eyes and flow down
her face, which is about all I can stand. Taking a deep breath, I
slip into the room and stand next to her, leaning against the
counter.

“
All right. So you read the
card. What did he say?”

Brushing a hand across her
face, she tries to hide the tears, not that it matters. I’ve seen
him do this to her too often, and it infuriates me. “That he’s
sorry, and all he wants is a chance to be there for his grandchild
like he was never there for me.”

My shoulders sink and I
want to shake Skye and tell her he has no right—that he hasn’t had
any rights to her since he walked out—but that would only make us
argue. No matter how much water flows under the bridge, part of her
still tries to see the good in him.

“
So what does that mean?” I
ask, stepping in front of her. I reach down and set my finger just
beneath her chin. In her dark eyes, I see the old Skye, and she
worries me.

My wife shakes her head. “I
wish I knew.”

Disgusted, I take the card
from her. “Well, it doesn’t matter. This doesn’t matter. You matter
and so does the baby, so let’s focus on that.” I nod to the glass.
“Did you get all the water you wanted?”

She peers toward the glass
and absently nods. “Yeah.”

“
Good. Then I’m taking you
back to bed.” With that, I sweep her into my arms away from the
past to a place only Skye and I exist.

Chapter Twenty

The weeks slip past as I
settle into the new job. While I’d rather pay for everything on my
own, I’m smart enough to know this salary isn’t going to take care
of everything, especially not with a baby due in a month, so my
parents have been helping us out so Skye can stay home. I figure
she’ll want to work once the baby is born and will quickly grow
tired of being stuck in a house with an infant who only speaks in
globs of sound, not words.

That means that right now
Skye has a lot of time on her hands during the day—time to
redecorate everything three times. I swear, the furniture
rearranges itself at least once a week, and I usually find out only
by tripping over something, usually the couch or coffee table. I’ve
suggested Skye really shouldn’t be moving things because of the
baby, but she’s never been all that big on listening to me or
anyone else, so I’m pretty sure me saying anything isn’t going to
do any good.

Since she moved the
furniture last week, I should be safe as I carry a pizza box and a
two-liter of soda into the house. As I walk to the kitchen, I look
around the living room, looking for Skye, but she’s nowhere to be
found, which unnerves me. Usually, she’s buzzing around the
apartment, doing something.

“
Skye? Where are you?” I
call, setting the box on the counter. “I brought dinner.” My
stomach growls, and I think about opening the box but decide to
wait, figuring she’ll emerge out at any moment. Pizza, especially
loaded with supreme toppings, is Skye’s guilty pleasure, and on our
budget, we don’t eat out very often.

I grab the paper plates
from the pantry and set them next to the box before turning toward
the doorway. I listen for a minute, thinking she’ll say something,
but only silence answers. “Skye? Did you hear me?” I set my hands
on my hips, straining to hear a reply.

Silence. Something just
isn’t right.

I frown, heading toward the
bedroom. Sweat beads at my temples, and suddenly the room feels
stuffy, like I’m suffocating. I reach the bedroom and find it dark.
The only light filters in around drawn curtains, and that’s not
much.

“
Are you in here,
Skye?”

Instead of answering, my
wife shifts in bed, and I hear the covers rustling. The frown
deepens as I edge closer to the bed and sit at her side. I can
barely see her lying there, her long, dark hair spilling like dark
ribbons around her face.