Warning: Explicit content.

From the small Juliette balcony of my first-floor apartment, I saw a silver sedan drive up to the front of my flower shop. It was the same vehicle that held some of my choicest memories, the same man behind the wheel who held the key to the special place inside me, where dreams and hopes resided. The place that had been locked away for over four years.

“Go around and park on the side street,” I called out before hurrying back inside the house to turn off the oven. Presence and punctuality were always professor Samuel Fischer’s hallmark traits, regardless of the incessant rain that never failed to worsen traffic. I removed my apron and hung it on the door knob of the pantry, quickly smoothing my hands over my dress and tucking back the messy tendrils of hair dislodged from my bun. Without another moment’s delay, I ran down the stairs and threw the door open just as he was about to ring the bell.

He said nothing at the first sight, but the smile in his eyes and the dark, wind-swept hair managed to intensify the flutter I had felt in my chest all day. His coat was in the crook of his arm, a messenger bag on his right shoulder, and he seemed to have evaded the rain. I stepped aside and he slowly, tentatively, entered the foyer, waiting for me to lead the way up the narrow stairs. I sprinted up, my bare feet making no noise on the cold wood. Ushering him in, I gestured at the coat rack behind the door, and slipped away to the kitchen, my nerves an excitable mess.

It was strange to have a man in the house. Besides Rachel and her twins, no other person had been to that apartment since her mother died two years ago.

He hung up his coat and his bag and slipped off his shoes. I sensed his gaze on me, drinking me in, probably still wondering deep inside if it was indeed happening. His eyes flitted between me and the overly feminine aesthetic of the apartment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The furnishings were my choice, but a lot of the furniture had belonged to old Iris, from whom I inherited the property. I had not had a man in my life in ages, and it showed.

I was taking out the habanero puffs from the oven when he entered the kitchen, the smell of food suddenly masked by the overwhelming masculine aroma now filling the apartment. My hands inexplicably began to turn weak.

“The bathroom is that way if you’d like to freshen up,” I said, brushing back the hair that kept falling over my face. “I also made coffee. Help yourself if you like.”

But instead, Sam walked up to me, leaning in to help me retrieve the tray full of jam pastries and place it on the griddle. I refrained from looking up at him, our proximity making me breathless. My cheeks burned, but I blamed it on the heat from the oven.

“Come here.” He tugged me close, his arms wrapping tight around my waist, my face nestled in the crook of his neck, filling my nostrils with the familiar scent of his skin. “Oh… Melissa.”

I put my arms around him, telling myself that I was not going to cry and ruin the evening. 

But, god, I had missed those embraces, at once fiercely passionate and achingly tender.

“I wasn’t expecting your invite today,” he whispered into my ear. “I’m afraid I’m dreaming.”

I would be lying if I said I did not feel the same myself. About a fortnight ago, our paths had accidentally crossed after four years, as if fate had given us an opportunity to make amends and start afresh. And we had grasped the chance, untangling the threads of our past as the truth spilled out like ink on a blank page. Whatever went wrong all those years ago was neither of our fault. We had only been the victim of circumstances.

“I hope it wasn’t much trouble coming over,” I murmured against his shoulder. “I know it’s a good forty-minute drive to my place from the university.”

Sam inhaled deeply, squeezing me in his arms. “Where’s the whiskey?” he asked. My eyes opened.

“What?”

“Whiskey. For the coffee.”

“Oh.” I drew away and pointed at the cabinet next to the fridge. “The caramel syrup is in the pantry there. I’ll leave it to you. You know how to get the right proportions.”

With a self-assured smile, he opened the cabinet and perused the shelves while I arranged the food on the tiered charcuterie stand. I found myself smiling when his eyes lit up with appreciation as he grabbed the arcopal mugs from the table, resting my apprehensions that he would find the whole arrangement too unmanly. His masculinity was never fragile, neither was his spirit.

The rain was a light drizzle when we sat at the table. Warmed by the small chandelier overhead and the little tea lights around the kitchen, the small room was homey and inviting. His face was serene as he helped himself to one pastry, then another, then a couple more, his unashamed display of hunger filling me with an uncanny satisfaction.

“These pastries are incredible,” he said, licking the blackberry jam from his fingertips. “I haven’t had them in ages. Don’t think I’ve ever had them this well done. I love that you added fresh berries to make them extra fruity.”

I mentioned that the jam was made by one of my regular patrons, an old lady who used to be Iris’ friend. Homemade jam was one of his weaknesses. When my neighbour in Birmingham flooded us with an overwhelming quantity of preserve and marmalade, I – unbeknownst to my mother – had whisked away a few jars for him. I refrained from bringing up the memory, choosing to focus on the present moment.

We conversed easily over the bite-sized treats and the no-cream Irish coffee. I asked how he liked Aldlake and his tenure at the best-rated business school in the region. He expressed his love for the quaint beauty of the town, his mixed feelings about all that rain, and admitted that after teaching at large universities for most of his career, he preferred the smaller size of his current workplace.

“How long is your contract?” I asked over a bite of a pastry. Sam took a swig of his coffee and licked his lips.

“Three more years,” he replied, reaching for a puff. “I have the options of extending it or becoming tenured.”

“Does Kurt like it here?”

“Oh, yes. Loves the weather, too, believe it or not. Probably because it gives him the chance to play in the rain.” He smiled to himself, staring inside the mug. “I was so worried about how he would like the flat I got us in a short time. It’s a decent place, three bedrooms, big windows and all, and I figured I could always get something better if it didn’t feel right. But the moment he saw the little terrace we have at the back, he was sold.”

I involuntarily thought back to his flat in Birmingham that I had helped furnish while his family was yet to move in from London. It was where we consummated our relationship and where we shared hours of burning passion, tender affection, and a fragile bubble of happiness. “Do you own the property as well as the business?” he asked, biting into a puff. When I answered in the affirmative, he nodded to himself. “You’re lucky, having a place of your own. I’ve moved around too much to enjoy that luxury.”

“I thought you’re used to it. You moved all your life, since your father was in the foreign services.”

He gave me a small smile, probably pleased that I remembered that. “I do miss having a permanent home, you know,” he murmured. “Somewhere you can take root and grow old. And Kurt’s getting older. I want him to have more stability.”

I could understand. His son was born in Cambridge, then lived in Bristol, London, and now in Aldlake. That was a lot of moving in ten years.

“Can I….” He hesitated, swirling his beverage. “Can I ask how you came to own a flower shop?”

It would not make much sense without recounting the story from the beginning. And so I did, telling him about my move to Aldlake as a public relations assistant at the mayor’s office right after Sam and I parted, the deputy mayor Rachel McKay and her two school-going children developing a fondness for me as I assisted her mother Iris with the flower shop, losing my pregnancy at fourteen weeks, spiralling into a hopeless state of depression and being unfit for my job, Iris handing me the reins of the shop to help me heal, and leaving the property to me after she passed away, since her daughter never had the skill for floristry.

I had no notion of what I had done to deserve such generosity, but I was eternally grateful. Aided by my knowledge of flowers, gardening, and a business degree, I had been able to keep Iris’ dream alive and blooming.

Sam fell into a deep silence once I finished. When I looked at his face, my heart sank to realise I had said too much. He had learned about my pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage only four days ago, too short a time for a colossal truth to sink in. Without another word, I rose from the chair and hastened to clean up. He stood as well, slowly tucking the chairs under the table and discarding the used napkins in the bin. I returned to the table to fetch the mugs, but he caught me in his arms.

“Are you sure you still want to see me after what I did to you?” he asked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you slapped me across the face and slammed the door on me forever. I never fulfilled a single promise I ever made to you.”

His parting words came alive in my mind. “You promised you’d always love me,” I answered.

“And I do, more than ever.” He breathed raggedly as his hands trailed up the curve of my body, his touch as familiar as it was welcome. “I needed to lose you to be able to realise how precious you are to me. Every day, every moment, a part of me was missing without you. But seeing you again also reminds me of all that you threw away. You were a star student, Missy. You had goals, ambitions. I ruined it all for you.”

He swallowed hard, almost unwilling to say more. “I put you through things that caused you to lose our baby.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was. I didn’t listen to you when you wanted to tell me about it. Your mother turned you out of home without a clue about your physical state. You were all alone, heartbroken and depressed. The toll it must’ve taken on you…”

“Sam—”

“I cannot stop thinking that if things had been different, there would be a little child running around this very apartment, probably without any knowledge of their father. And the more I see of the new life you’ve built here, the more I’m reminded of the life we could’ve had together, the possibilities that never came to fruition because of my stupidities.”

“But you’ve found me again,” I said, staring at the details of his face etched in my mind— the protruding eyes, the lines around his mouth, the cleft in his chin, the way a few locks of his hair always fell across his forehead. “We have the rest of our lives to make the most of our possibilities.”

“Rest of our lives…” he whispered incredulously to himself. Then he pressed his lips onto mine, snatching my breath away. My stomach clenched as our mouths opened, then sealed again, seeking, plundering. Tension surged through us and charged the air in an unspoken promise of what was to come. His fingers curled in my hair, unconsciously setting the tresses free from the bun to let them fall across my shoulders. When I breathed a small sound of need into the kiss, he pressed me closer against his body, as if wishing for me to melt into him.

“That day when you unknowingly stumbled into my shop, I was horrified,” I confessed shakily. “If you were here, so would your wife. And I couldn’t bear to face her again.”

“You won’t. Ever.” He reclaimed my lips, crushing me to his chest. Lost in his powerful embrace, I felt the untold burden of the past lift from my shoulders, replaced by a peace that I had never known.

His hands drifted down my back and held my waist, kneading the flesh through the fabric of my dress. A slow fire flowed between us, fueled by four years of longing and the dormant spark that had been rekindled by a single touch.

“Do you want this?” he breathed. “I don’t want you to think I was only trying to sweet talk my way inside your—”

I resumed the kiss, circling my arms around his neck to leave no space between us. “I’d quite like you inside my knickers,” came my quiet assurance. “My bedroom is right there.”

Sam scooped me in his arms and carried me in the direction of my bedroom, kicking the door open and shouldering the drapes of the canopy aside to lay me on the bed. We were kissing again, more possessive than the last minute, his mouth devouring mine, our hands trying to touch everywhere at the same time. His lips trailed down the side of my neck, marking the skin with wet kisses, nibbles, and the occasional hard bite that he knew drove me crazy. My back arched, my toes curled. I had not had a man’s touch in many years, and there was no other man whose touch I craved more. Impatient, I tugged up my dress and pulled it over my shoulders. Sam paused, taking in the sight of my body in only a pair of underwear.

“Last night, as I sat at my desk, I felt you around me.” He showered my face with kisses, his hot breath ghosting my skin, causing prickles of anticipation. “Somewhere very close. So close, I could almost smell you…”

His lips drifted down my neck and met my decolletage, making me shudder. “The rain was beating outside and I imagined you running amok through the downpour, the fragrance of your drenched skin cooking up an intoxicating cocktail inside my head along with the smell of the wet earth…”

I pressed the back of my palm to my lips when he unhooked my bra, my eyes rolling back. “Oh, those sweet moans…” he cooed, kissing each of my ample breasts. “How I’ve missed your delicious noises…”

He kissed down my ribs all the way to my stomach, stopping at my navel. Looking down, I found him lost in thought as his fingers absently feathered across my stomach.

“Are you alright?” I asked. His heavy sigh fanned my skin.

“I’m such an unlucky man,” he rued. “The son who’s my life, I had him with a woman who tried to destroy me. And I could do nothing for the woman I truly loved or the child I created with her.”

My head fell back, my eyes burning from sudden melancholy. Sam crawled back up my body. 

“I’m sorry…” I mumbled hoarsely. “We can keep going.”

“Not when you’re crying.” He wiped the tears from my temple. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I haven’t been with anybody after you,” I rasped, touching his cheeks with my fingers.

“Neither have I, after you.” He kissed each of my fingertips, down my wrist and up my arm, until he found his way back to my shoulder. “There would never be anyone else in your place.”

“What will Kurt think?” I bit my trembling lip but the words escaped anyway. “I’m the reason why you and his mother are no longer together.”

“No. That’s because his mother is a conniving woman.” His lips met my forehead again, lingering there. “Even Kurt will agree that it’s more peaceful with just the two of us than it ever was in the past. It feels like a home now, not a battleground.”

“She’s still his mother.” With both my hands I covered my face. “I knew she wasn’t the greatest, but how could she…”

I could not bring myself to finish the question. That a mother could invent a story about her child having an incurable disease had so long been a myth to me, until Sam and I met again after years and the truth was revealed. Curiosity had got the better of me, and I had dug up newspaper reports from four years ago to learn about the legal side of the story. It was a small story but I did manage to locate it after some search. Norma-Jean Fischer had lost her job of a nurse and barely escaped prison by paying a hefty fine. The doctor – her partner in bed and in crime – had his license revoked and was serving a ten-year sentence.

“Sweet Melissa…” He moved my hands aside to stare at my tear-stained face. “You’re mourning over someone else’s sin.”

“Does she regret it at all?”

Sam gave me a grim smile. “You know her as well as I do. What do you think?”

“She– she doesn’t? After an unforgivable scheme like that…”

“She planned it. She suspected I had someone else in my life, realised it was why I finally wanted a divorce, and knew that the only power to stop me from walking out on her was Kurt.”

He held me closer, my sobs muffled in his shoulder. “She was openly proud to see me devastated to lose you.” His words were brittle. “It took me every morsel of my strength to remind myself that she was my child’s mother, the woman I married hoping for my happily ever after.”

Wiping away my tears, he gazed into my eyes. “That was her kindness to me after all my patience, decency, and duty towards her. And then there’s you, being kind to me despite the suffering I put you through.”

“You did what any good father would’ve done. You wouldn’t be the man I loved if news like that about your child didn’t affect you harshly.”

“Yes. The human heart and the games you can play with it.”

“I’m sorry about everything,” I croaked, pulling his face so close to mine that our breaths seemed to be one.

“Why are you sorry? All you did was love me and make me happy. “

“I want to do that all over again. Love you and make you happy.”

He kissed me again, the burning desire erasing all melancholy and igniting my body. Sliding my hands between us, I began to unbutton his trousers. The zipper gave way to let me feel his rock hard length inside his underwear. I pumped him gently, earning a low groan from him.

“We shouldn’t be doing this without a condom, should we?” he asked. “But I don’t have any.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to.” I pointed to the bedside table on his side. “Look in that drawer.”

He tossed his trousers onto the floor and reached for the drawer, sliding it open to find the small purple box I had bought earlier in the afternoon. He laughed.

“You knew where this was going to go,” he said, tearing the seal from the box. I slid off my panties before rising on my knees and pulling him into my arms.

“And you did not?” I asked, unbuttoning his shirt. Sam caught my lips between his, tugging me onto his lap.

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” he breathed, kneading my buttocks. His hand sliding between us to feel my wetness elicited a gasp from me. I pushed down his boxers, letting him to sheath his raging erection.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered between kissing me senseless. “Seeing you surrounded by those flowers at your shop stirs something within me.”

“You’re stirring a lot within me right about now,” I hissed, grinding onto the head of his solid length. His hands settled on my hips.

“Do it then,” he coaxed. “Make me yours again.”

I straddled him, holding his shoulder with one hand and positioning his erection at my eager cleft with the other. The thick bellend breached my tissues with a suctioning pop, my eyes rolling back to the sensation of being filled so completely. Sam laid us down and slowly pushed the rest of himself into me, flexing and easing the passage rendered tight from four years of abstinence.

“Missed you…” My laugh was tense and breathless. “Missed you stretching me open like this…”

“Yeah, I almost forgot how tight you are.” He stroked my head, slowly rolling his hips back and forth, loosening me. “Alright?”

I nodded. He leaned in to kiss me, his jaw clenching with effort as he picked up pace.

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He slammed into me in a rhythm that was both brutal and beautiful. It was all so familiar— the power, the possession, the searing closeness, as if he would lose me again if he let go. I writhed against the tangled sheets quickly dampening underneath me, the change of angle making him moan into my mouth. His muscles tensed and relaxed with each thrust, his gaze locked onto mine, daring me to look away, almost trying to reassure himself that I was really there, that it was not some twisted dream he was going to awaken from.

The canopy shook above us, the bed frame creaking from the strain. I wrapped my arms around him, my legs spread wide, our bodies now seemingly fused into a single entity. He gripped my hair with one hand and my hip with the other as his pace turned jagged and urgent. The coil of tension wound tight as he hit the most sensitive spot inside me, my body aflame, my senses dazed and distant. As the pressure built, I gripped his shoulders, seeking purchase against the imminent waves of rapture.

“Sam…” My breath hitched, stars bursting behind my eyes as the tension peaked and released in a dizzying cascade of agonising ecstasy. I wailed, my legs thrashing and my pelvis clenching. His relentless thrusts kept me on the edge, allowing me no relief until another tidal wave charged at me, knocking the air from my lungs. My mouth opened in a noiseless scream, blood roaring in my ears as my sanity unravelled. I clung to him, bracing myself when his control started to slip.

“God… Missy…” He groaned through clenched teeth as his release took over him with a primal ferocity, washing away the last four years from existence. I stiffened and fell apart again at the same time, our cries echoing through the room in that moment of blissful surrender. But he did not cease nor soften, only continued spreading me open, seemingly burying himself into the pit of my stomach. I tried to slow down, to catch my breath, but felt powerless to resist him. The telltale pressure built within me once more, my body stretched to its limit but still willing to give and take more.

He gritted his teeth, and I knew he was close again, his muscles taut from holding back his approaching climax. I lifted my hips and thrust up into him, and he got the signal, hammering down in a fast, erratic rhythm until I was falling off the edge with a howling moan, taking him with me.

His palm slapped onto the bed as he exploded again, the shockwaves of pleasure a reminder of how connected we still were and the fierce passion that still burned between us. 

“I love you…” He gasped with every spasming jolt of his hips. “I love you, Missy… Never want to lose you again… ever…”

My fingers dug into his back. “I love you too…” my voice broke as I said the words that I thought I would never get to say again. They sounded right. They felt right.

We were throbbing together in the wet, slippery heat when his phone rang in the living room. The sound made me flinch. Sam buried a groan in my neck, his fingers tightening in my hair.

“It’s Kurt,” he panted into my ear, twitching inside me. Moisture squelched between our limp, entwined bodies, the air in the room hotter than the summer had been, the noise of the city farther than any ocean would be. I sought his lips, and he welcomed me eagerly, our breaths shallow as we joined in a ravenous kiss.

“Are you going to answer it?” I asked on a hard swallow, wiping the sweat from his flushed face that bore the look of exhausted relief. He recaptured my lips, breathing heavily into the insistent, voluptuous kiss.

“I’ll call back later,” he said, brushing back the damp hair from my forehead. “Are you alright?”

I nodded, though I knew my muscles would be starting their protest soon enough. “You?”

“Never better.” His lips brushed my nose. “I’m sorry I went too hard… You were incredible and I just couldn’t stop…”

“Are you apologising for the most earth-shattering makeup sex?”

Sam’s smile was laced with warm surprise. “Makeup sex? So… you’re taking me back?”

“I invited you over, made you your favourite pastries, and let you nearly break my pristine bed with some wild carnality.” My brow arched at him. “And you’re still wondering if I’m taking you back?”

His chest deflated on a deep exhale. “Oh, sweetheart…” Wrapping me in his arms, he rolled us over, draping my boneless body across the expanse of his torso. Our legs tangled, our lips meeting again, this time more languidly. “You’re the answer to all my prayers. I had no idea where to look for you. Thought I’d never find you again.”

Sam paused abruptly, his head moving from side to side as he scanned my bedroom for the first time.

“What era do you live in, Melissa Catherine Connor?” he wondered aloud. “Let me guess— 1850?”

My full name on his lips sent a tingle down my skin. I had not heard or used my middle name in ages. But he still remembered it.

Brushing away the surprise, I smiled against his shoulder. “Why 1850?”

“That’s when Romanticism peaked.” He buried his nose in my hair. “There’s a sublime serenity about your house. The moment I came in, it felt like stepping into a different world.”

“That’s the idea.” I looked up at his face, the lines between academician and devoted father blurring to be replaced by the tender vulnerability of a man who was still crazy about me. “You didn’t have to grade papers tonight, did you? Or prepare for a class for tomorrow?”

He shook his head, unsheathing himself. “But even if I did, I would trade it to be with you like this.”

“What do you do once Kurt goes to bed?”

“You mean after I clean up the kitchen and tidy the living room?” His barely audible chuckle made my blood simmer. “I mostly read. Work on research papers or prepare for a talk or seminar if I need to. Find something interesting to watch sometimes. Sit with a drink, reflect, think about you.”

Our fingers entwined, a smile surfacing on his lips. “It wouldn’t be too drastic if I decided to settle here in Aldlake, would it?” He asked quietly. “I could accept the offer to become tenured, Kurt wouldn’t have to keep changing schools, and I’d finally find the home I’ve always sought.”

My heart leapt at the prospect. “It does sound a little drastic,” I said lightly. “You’ll grow tired of the rain.”

“I grew tired within a week of moving here. But since I know how insatiable rainy days make you, I think I can manage.”

I laughed, running my fingers down the dark hair of his chest. “Aldlake has been good to me. I hope it’s good to you too.”

“It already has. It brought me back to you.”

“You have Kurt to thank. He needed the restroom that day in the pouring rain, and that led you into my shop.”

“Yes,” he laughed. “I probably should thank him. He called you the sweet lady from the cute flower shop.”

“Does he still have that problem?” I asked. “He used to need the restroom every thirty minutes or so.”

“It’s a lot better,” he said. “Turned out it was a stress response. After his mother and I separated, it slowly started getting better.” His mouth quirked. “You remember everything.”

“And so do you.”

He ran the back of his fingers down my arm, his eyes welling up.

“When the world seemed to be crashing around me,” he said. “I held onto every little memory of you to keep me going. The hypnotic pull of your hazel eyes, the warmth of your body in my arms, the delicate lure of your face in the morning light, the sweet excitement in your voice when you talked about grafting roses, the colour in your cheeks when I kissed you, the mischief in your smile when we talked adult books we secretly read as children, the sun glowing on your skin as we strolled through the country park, the way you always smelled of flowers and freshly cut grass, the very bad coffee you always made…”

Sam tried compressing his lips but his eyes still brimmed over. He held my hand as I raised it to wipe away the tears rolling past his nose. “I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for what happened to you,” he carried on. “I keep wishing I could change it, take back all the hurt I caused you…”

My free hand pressed to his lips, quietening him. I snuggled closer into his arms, his protective embrace warming my body, my heart.

“Where do we go from here?” I asked.  

“Wherever you want to. There’s no pressure from me. You lead the way and I will follow. It’s been a long time and many things have changed. I’m a single dad, you’re a businesswoman. But I do know one thing.” He looked at my face. “We had to keep it a secret in Birmingham, but it no longer has to be so. I want to make you a proper part of my life.”

I gave him a nod. “I know there’s a lot to figure out. But we can simply savour this moment for now and sort out the rest later, can’t we?”

 “Of course we can.” He reached for my lips again. “I can give up the world just to be in this moment forever.”

We smiled into the demanding kiss, our lips probably getting the best workout of their lives. “Since your son isn’t home,” I said. “Will you… stay the night?”

The question came out softly, laced with hesitation. Sam raised himself on one elbow, hunching over me.

“If you’re willing to have me,” he replied. “I wouldn’t want to impose, though. This is your domain and I understand if—”

“I’d like you to stay,” I assured him. “Throw your clothes in the wash, if you want. I’ll get you a toothbrush, and there’s an extra large bathrobe in the cabinet that might finally find its purpose tonight.”

He inhaled me without restraint. “I get to traipse around your apartment in a bathrobe?”

“Oh, I’ve missed seeing you traipse in a bathrobe.” Against my stomach, I felt him hardening again. “What would you like for dinner? There are a bunch of restaurants around the corner if you’re in the mood for takeaway.”

“My dinner is right here.” Trapping me between his legs, he deepened the kiss, our bodies aching for more— when the shrill ring of his phone emptied a bucket of ice on our growing arousal.

“I should take it,” he said, laying a kiss on my forehead. “But I’m not done with you.”

“No?”

“Not by a long shot.” After another kiss, he paused, simply staring at me with those bottomless blue eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m so happy, Missy. So very happy…”

“So am I.” My eyes watered but I quickly blinked back the surge of emotions. “I love you, Sam-I-Am.”

“And I love you, my sunshine.” He kissed my lips again, then my hand, before rolling away. After putting on his boxers, he went into the kitchen to discard the soiled condom in the garbage bin. A moment later, the phone stopped ringing.

“Hey, buddy.” Sam’s voice was smiling and tender. “How was the trip to Sunny Point today?”

I heard the soft creak of the sofa, followed by his voice again, this time slightly perturbed. “You picked up what?” He gently demanded. “A kitten? Where did you find a kitten on a camping trip? Stranded in the rocks. Yes, yes, I know it’s small and cute, but- Kurt— listen— Kurt—”

“Oh, boy.” I giggled, rolling over in bed, the weight of the years lifting to make room for a togetherness we had once thought lost.