Page 201 of Heartache Duet

He dips his head again, and I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he says, “I once had dinner here, and they had two different sized forks.”

I laugh under my breath.

“And knives. And spoons, too. And I’m pretty sure I ate a pigeon.”

My head tilts back with the force of my guffaw. “You probably did.”

His eyes soak me in. “I love watching you laugh.”

My heart soars. “I love you.”

He smiles, standing to full height again. “Did you have a pool house?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Did you have a game room?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you have wings?”

I giggle. “None of the houses on the other side of the road are as extravagant as this, but we had the lake.”

“The lake?”

I nod.

“There’s a fucking lake?”

I can’t help but laugh at his response. “Yes.”

“Jesus. In Florida, we had swamps.”

“With gators?” I ask.

“I’ve never seen one.”

“You had endless summers.”

“And deadly acts of nature.”

“Do you miss Florida?” I ask him.

He shakes his head, adamant. “I have everything I need right here.” He takes my hand, kisses the inside of my wrist. “Do you miss the lake?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “We had a little patio that sat out over the water, and whenever Mom was home from deployment, we’d sit out there, watch the fireflies, and talk all night about anything and everything.” A lump forms in my throat. “I miss that patio, and I miss that version of her.”

“She’s still there,” he assures, tapping at his heart. “In here.”

I wipe my sudden tears on his shirt, wondering how it is he can make me feel so much in so little time.

“Let’s go,” he says, dragging me toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

“To your patio.”

“Connor!” I dig my heels into the floor, stopping him. When he turns to me, I tell him, “You can’t just go onto someone’s property and sit out in their yard.”