“Now that I would like to see,” she says wryly, setting the empty champagne glass on a nearby table. “You’ve never been one to dance much, Drew.”

“I don’t really ever dance,” I say simply because it’s the truth. I may have coordination out on the football field, but I’m not a big fan of showing off my moves on the dance floor. As if I have any moves, which I don’t.

“So, what do you think? Like your reception?”

Fable and I turn to find Dad standing before us, drink in hand, a giant smile on his face. He’s dressed in his usual suit with a button-down shirt, no tie, his tanned face not from a spray bottle but from too much time out on the golf course. He looks relaxed and happy … and older than I’ve ever seen him, with the wrinkles lining his face and the gray streaked liberally in his dark hair.

“It’s beautiful. You’ve outdone yourself,” Fable says earnestly, flicking a quick glance in my direction before she turns a full-wattage smile on Dad. “Thank you so much, Mr. Callahan.”

“Fable, you’re a part of the family now, so please call me Andy.” He pulls Fable right from my grip and hauls her into a giant bear hug, wrapping his arms around her tight and giving her a long squeeze. “You brought my boy back to me, you know. I owe you everything.”

My heart stutters in my chest. I’ve never heard Dad say anything like that before, especially to Fable. We usually skirt the issues rather than face them head on.

Right now, though, we’re facing them. Acknowledging them. And I like it.

“Thank you … Andy.” She withdraws from his embrace and smiles up at him, her eyes glistening with a sheen of unshed tears. “Thank you for this party, for inviting everyone, and for including my brother in it all.”

“Owen is a part of our family now, too. Trust me, we need as many members as we can get.” He laughs, but the sound is painful. I feel it down to my bones, but I wouldn’t change what happened for anything.

Though I still regret the loss of my mother, and of my sister, I will never, ever regret Adele’s death. The woman got what was coming to her. I just hate how it affected Dad.

“The cake.” Fable gestures toward it, trying to change the subject, which I appreciate. “It’s so big. I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

Ah crap, I hope Dad doesn’t take that remark as an insult. A few years ago, he would have. He would have thought it was a slam against his judgment.

But no, he’s laughing, making Fable laugh with him. “It better be. I ordered it from the best bakery in all of the Carmel Valley. And I paid top dollar for it, too.”

“I can’t wait.” Her smile grows. “I’ve always had a thing for cake. I have a major sweet tooth.”

Me, too. More than anything, I’m addicted to the sweetness that is my wife.

Fable

My husband keeps shooting me these looks that tell me he’s feeling overly sentimental. Drew gets a little dreamy-eyed when he feels that way. And there’s a dopey smile curving his lips that makes him look as cute as can be. He’s so handsome, with all that dark hair tumbling across his forehead, his blue eyes flashing at me. The angular cheekbones, the lush mouth, the firm line of his jaw …

I’m weak-kneed just looking at him. Still. That he has the power to make me feel this way is overwhelming. I’d much rather focus on my love for Drew than deal with the uneasy sensation that slipped over me the moment we first saw that glimpse of the ocean. As we drove south on Highway One, past the Monterey exits, my heart started to race and my palms began to sweat.

All those tough, ugly feelings swarmed back to the surface, making me itchy. I thought I could handle this, coming back here. I thought everything would be all right because I knew she was gone and those old ghosts that had haunted Drew for so long had slowly evaporated over time. He fought hard to conquer his demons. I stood beside him, cheering him on the entire time.

But maybe since I’d spent so much time focused on his demons, I never realized I had my own. Being back in the Monterey Bay area, I feel small. Like I’m nothing. I’ve reverted back to that tough, poor, slutty girl again, pretending to be in love with a gorgeous, perfect guy all for a lump sum of money that will temporarily take care of me and my brother.

Drew could sense I was feeling that way, too. I think my nervousness became this living, breathing thing that seeped from my body and into his. Owen was oblivious, sitting in the backseat with his earbuds in, the music so loud I could still hear it, tinny and bass-heavy. Drew had looked over at me and reached out across the console to take my hand and bring it to his mouth, pressing the softest, sweetest kiss to my knuckles.

“I love you,” he’d whispered, his gaze flickering to mine before he returned it to the road stretched out before us. “Don’t ever forget it.”

Just like that, the knots in my stomach slowly unwound and my breathing eased. “I hate this place,” I whispered in return.

“Why?” He let go of my hand and turned his attention more firmly to the road, hitting the blinker and slowing down as he pulled off on the upcoming exit. “It’s where we fell in love.”

The realization had stunned me. He’s right. We had fallen in love here. It may have been scary and ugly and heartbreaking, but our week in Carmel had also been sweet and hopeful and full of wonder. I’d never felt anything like what I experienced with Drew with any other boy.

And that little conversation, Drew’s simple words, fueled me for the rest of the trip. Out here on his father’s back patio, the fairy lights wound in the trees twinkling above, the sliver of a pale white moon watching over us, the music loud and the chattering voices even louder, I’m content. Comfortable. Holding my own. Feeling like I belong here.

“We should check out Ocean Avenue tomorrow,” Drew whispers close to my ear, amusement tingeing his deep voice.

“What? Are you serious?” Even though I’ve come to terms with being here, it doesn’t mean I want to linger and make it a serious vacation. Besides, Drew needs to get back home so he can resume practice.

“Well yeah, remember the spot where we kissed?” His eyes are warm as they search my face, filled with so much love I feel my heart swell.

“Yes,” I whisper achingly. “Of course I remember.”

“I want to go back there.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his index finger lingering on my skin. “I want to kiss you again in that little alley and remember how wet we were from the rain. How nervous I was. I was scared you might reject me.”

I’d felt the same way. We’d dealt with much of the same feelings and fears and hadn’t even known it.

“I want to take you to that store where you got the dress that just about killed me and buy you whatever you want,” he continues, his fingers drifting across my jaw. My eyes flutter closed as memories rush back at me. “I want to sit outside the dressing room and have you come out to show me every single thing you’re trying on.”

That he remembers all the little details sends a thrill of pleasure spiraling to the very depths of my soul.

“And then I want to wander off for a bit and let you do whatever you want, secretly hoping that you’ll send me a text that says ‘marshmallow.’ Though if you don’t, that’s okay, because I’ll send you one instead.” He offers up a crooked smile and the sight of it cracks my heart wide open, overflowing with so much pure love for him I want to cry. “Because we made a deal. Whenever we see or hear that word, the other comes running. I’ll always be the one to rescue you, Fable. You never have to worry about that.”

“Drew.” My voice cracks and then I’m in his arms, my face pressed to his neck, his lips on my cheek. He’s whispering words of love and devotion but I don’t really hear them. I can only feel. His soft hair tickling my cheek, his hands smoothing up and down my back, his warmth radiating into me. He’s solid and real, the sound of his heart beating steady and strong against my ear, and I slowly pull away from him. “When can we leave?”

He starts to laugh, the sound rich and full of honest humor. “We can’t leave yet. We’ve only been here maybe an hour.”

“Isn’t that enough time?” I ask hopefully.

“Fable, we’re staying here. We can’t just bail on our party and go upstairs.” His laughter dies, his expression gone serious. “Everyone will know what we’re doing.”

“What? Having sex? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” I stare at him wide-eyed and he slowly shakes his head. “We’re newlyweds, Drew. We’re still on our honeymoon.”

“No, we’re not.” He glances around, making sure no one is standing close to us, I’m sure. Heaven forbid anyone hear us talk about sex. “Come on, Fable.”

“Ha, you’re so cute.” I hook my arm through his and snuggle close, breathing deep his warm, spicy scent. “Saying all sorts of romantic words to me, filling my head with sweet memories, and then you go all shy on me. Afraid you might offend your dad?”

“We’re surrounded by people. They’re all here for us,” he murmurs, his lips barely moving. How does he do that? It’s a pretty slick trick.

“They’re not here for us; they’re here for your dad.” I wave a hand, dismissing his words. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“What about Owen?”

“He’s sitting at that table with your dad’s new girlfriend.” Her name is Tami and she’s sweet as can be. Nothing like that other woman, who shall not be named. “She’s making sure he’s well fed.” Tami is rather motherly toward him, and not in a creepy way, either. I think there’s something about Owen that screams lost little orphan boy with a shitty mother or something. He seems to bring that out in every woman he meets.

“I thought you wanted cake?” He’s searching for every excuse to stay out here and it’s the cutest thing ever.

“Hey.” I grab hold of him by one of the belt loops on his trousers, pulling him into me so close our h*ps almost collide. “Let’s sneak inside for a quickie and then we can come back out, and hopefully the cake will be ready by then.”

“Don’t you think they’ll want us to cut it?”

I roll my eyes. I know I’m pushing and probably making him uncomfortable since we’re on his dad’s turf, but I don’t really care. I like pushing him, just as much as he likes pushing me. Sometimes we need that extra push even when we don’t realize it. “We aren’t going for all that traditional-type reception stuff, are we? I didn’t wear a baby-blue garter under my dress, you know.”

His brows lift, his mouth quirked in a crooked smile. Now that remark caught his interest. What a surprise. “What do you have on under that dress?”

My skin warms at his blatant perusal, the way his eyes seem to touch upon me as they rake over my body. I can feel him, as if he just physically touched me. A shiver shakes through me and I tighten my finger around his belt loop, tugging him so close our h*ps do collide this time. “Maybe you should come inside with me so you can find out?”

That’s all it takes. He follows behind, crowding me, his hand at my lower back, fingers trailing down over my backside, getting lost in the folds of my skirt. The dress is all white lace, sleeveless and short, with a flared skirt that hits just above the knee and a wide swath of black satin ribbon as a belt tight around my waist. It’s pretty and feminine, and I can’t wait for Drew to take it off and discover I have no panties on beneath it.

Absolutely can’t. Wait.

Later that night, long after Drew went to sleep, I find myself tossing and turning beside him, too restless with the memories running through my brain. I finally crawl out of bed, grab my phone, and head out onto the tiny balcony that is adjacent to the guest room we’re staying in. Despite my restless brain, my limbs are loose and warm, my body well used by my husband. After the quickie in the bathroom, we’d come back outside to find the cake being served and I ate the biggest piece I could find.

It tasted delicious, the secret smiles Drew and I shared as we were surrounded by dozens of strangers making my head light and my heart sing.

After the party, we officially went to bed, where my husband made love to me for hours.

Now I huddle outside, the cool, gentle sea breeze sending my hair everywhere and making me shiver since I’m only wearing a thin nightgown. I look at my phone and find a text message from Drew. I have no idea when he could have sent this to me. I thought I’d been with him the entire evening. But a sweet poem was delivered to me one line at a time:

My beautiful wife, I will

Always love you

Respect you. You’re …

Sweet and sexy

Hot and tempting

My love for you is

All consuming

Lucky me to have found

Love

Only

With you

The tears fall silently, one after another, sliding down my cheeks, dripping from my jaw to land on the ground. But these aren’t tears of sadness, they’re happy. I’ve come full circle. I remember the last time he left me a letter like this, when I didn’t see the hidden message at first. When I’d been so overcome with desolation and loneliness. That letter had given me hope and though he’d let me down at first, he’d eventually come back into my life the way he was meant to.

Now, we belong to each other. And though he’s busy and consumed with his new career, nervous over it, starting a new life with me, and fully reconciling with his father, he still takes the time to write me a sweet little poem that lets me know exactly how he feels.