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  I fumble a few times, because it’s hard to see where to put my fingers when my vision is so blurred with tears. But I push through. I play the song. And when I hear Bass sing the words that I can’t, my heart expands with more love than I’d ever thought possible.

  And through my tears, I feel myself smile. I feel myself smile, because even though he won’t admit it, the man sitting behind me has rescued me. He’s saved me from a life full of guilt and self-abhorrence. Instead, he’s shown me a life of precious memories and hope.

  When the song is finished, I put down the guitar and relax into his arms. He kisses me just below my ear. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met,” he says, just as we watch the last rays of the sun be eaten up by the sea.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sebastian

  I try not to wake her, but it’s hard because I have to touch her. I’m not sure when I’ll get to touch her again. It’ll be at least two weeks, that’s how much longer she’s staying in Hawaii. But even after that, who knows what will happen.

  We stayed up all night talking. Well, in between our marathon love-making sessions that is. We couldn’t get enough of each other. It’s more than evident that she’s afraid of my leaving. I’m worried about her staying. I’ve asked her to come home with me, but she won’t. She says she needs more time.

  She’s done so much healing this past week, particularly after she went under the waterfall. It’s a transformation I’ve been fortunate to witness. I just hope after I leave she doesn’t sink back into a depression.

  “Don’t go,” she says, waking up to see me watching her.

  “Don’t stay,” I say back to her.

  It’s the same thing we’ve said to each other for days.

  I wrap her in my arms. “Thank you for giving me the best vacation of my life.”

  She snuggles into my shoulder. “There aren’t enough words to thank you for what you’ve given me.”

  “We’re good for each other, aren’t we?”

  She nods but doesn’t respond.

  “We’re good for each other here and we’ll be good for each other back home,” I say.

  “I hope you’re right, Bass. I really do.”

  Ivy’s phone rings and she reaches over to check it. “Do you mind?” she asks.

  “Go ahead,” I say, reaching for my own phone to check for messages.

  “Hi, Eli,” she says.

  My ears perk up when I hear her ex’s name. I know they talk. She said they’re friends. But something about him calling her when we’re in bed together just rubs me the wrong way.

  I fiddle with my phone as I listen to her side of the conversation.

  “No, he hasn’t left yet,” she says into the phone. Then she’s quiet as she listens.

  “I’m fine, Eli.” Another pause. “Two weeks from Thursday.” A longer pause and I can almost make out the male voice on the other end. “That’s okay, Holly said she’d pick me up.”

  She moves the phone to her other ear. “I can’t really talk about that. He’s lying right next to me.” She looks over at me and I try to pretend like I’m not listening, but she must know I am.

  “We’re adults, Eli. It’s fine. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

  She says goodbye and hangs up the phone.

  I turn to her, raising myself up onto an elbow. “Well, that wasn’t awkward in the least.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Sorry. He can be a bit protective of me.”

  I straighten my spine. I want to be the one protecting her.

  “You talk to him about me?” I ask.

  “Sure, he’s one of my closest friends.”

  “What did he say when you told him I was in your bed?”

  “He said he thinks I’m rushing things.”

  “Maybe he’s jealous,” I say.

  “I don’t think so. He’s dated other people since we broke up.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not still in love with you, Ivy. I should know, I hid my feelings for my best friend for years while dating other women.”

  “It’s not like that. He’s moved on. We really are just friends.”

  I study her, hoping she’s being straight with me. Then I look at Dahlia’s picture next to the bed. “Do you think you’d still be together if you didn’t both carry that recessive gene?”

  She shrugs, staring at the picture. “To be honest, I don’t know. We didn’t break up because of that. We broke up because it was too hard to be together when Dahlia was so sick. And then after … well, I’m not sure either of us had the energy to be with anyone.”

  “Do you want more children, Ivy?”

  She reaches out to touch the picture of her daughter. Then she nods. “I do. But not for a long time. And not unless he gets tested for the gene.”

  I grab her hand. “Not unless I get tested,” I say. “I’m the one you’re going to have babies with. I hope you know that.”

  She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t smile or swoon like most women would when hearing that declaration. She just looks scared. Terrified even.

  I pull her down on the bed so she’s lying under me. I hover over her. “We have all the time in the world, sweetheart. We won’t do anything until you’re ready. But it sure will be fun getting in the practice.”

  Finally, I see the hint of a smile. It’s my green light to devour her once again. And for the next two hours, we do nothing but practice and practice.

  ~ ~ ~

  Tears roll down her face as she walks me up to the security line outside Lihue airport. When it’s almost my turn to go through, her grip on me tightens.

  “You go ahead,” I say to the people behind me, stepping out of line and pulling Ivy over to a nearby bench.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m a blubbering idiot.”

  “It’s okay. It just means you love me.”

  She nods. “I do, you know. I’m not sure how it happened like this, Bass. It’s only been two weeks. But I love you so much. More than I thought I could ever love someone after …”

  “Me, too,” I say. “But it didn’t take me two weeks, Ivy. I fell in love with you long before that.”

  “When?” she asks.

  “I think it was when you were dancing in that puddle during the storm.”

  She looks walleyed at me. “Really?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. Really. I had never seen so much emotion pour out of one person. You were so beautiful. And when you told me about the rain being a magic potion that makes the flowers grow, I knew you were the one for me.” I squeeze her hand. “It was Dahlia who said that, wasn’t it?”

  She nods. “She loved the rain. She loved going outside to splash in the puddles and catch drops on her tongue. She loved watering the plants and flowers at the shop. She … she said she wished there was a magic potion that could help her grow up and be a mommy like me.” She chokes out her next words. “Because she knew she never would.”

  “I wish I could have met her,” I say. “She sounds like an amazing girl.”

  “She was.” Ivy puts her head on my shoulder. “I can show you her bedroom if you like, you know, sometime later after I get home. You’d think a paint truck vomited on the walls with all of her colorful paintings.”

  I’m reeling on the inside knowing she’s thinking of the future. A future with me in it.

  “I’d love to see it,” I say. “I’d love that more than anything.”

  She catches me checking the time. “I know you have to go. I guess I’m just trying to hold on to the fantasy a little longer.”

  We stand up and I kiss her. I don’t care who is watching and how indecent it is. I need her to know how much she means to me. That when I walk away, I’m not walking away from her. From this.

  “The fantasy is not over,” I say. “It’s just the beginning. Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

  She nods, a tear running down her cheek as I walk away.

  “I’ll see you soon, Ivy Greene.”

  Sh
e tries to smile and then she blows me a kiss. And all the while I’m saying a silent prayer that the woman I love will find the strength to heal and come home.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ivy

  I lie here in bed, staring at Dahlia’s picture like I do every morning. But now I have another face to stare at as well. I pick up my phone and page through the pictures of Bass—the pictures of us—just to make sure I didn’t dream the entire thing.

  I know I didn’t, because when I look at the photos we bought at the luau that are still perched on my dresser, everything comes rushing back. He left his photo here. I think he did it on purpose. He wanted me to look at them and remember. How is it that after only two weeks, he gets me so well?

  I was worried about all the alone time I was going to have here after he left. But I also knew I needed it. I needed it to figure out if it was just being with Bass that changed me, or if I had really changed. And the past few days have given me hope. Hope I never knew existed.

  Even Holly said I sounded different when we talked on the phone yesterday. She said different was good. She said different is what I need and that everything will be different when I come back next Thursday. I’m not sure what she means by that. Does she think when I get back I will have miraculously forgotten about the last seven years of my life?

  My phone rings and I smile when I look at the screen and see Bass’s picture. We’ve been texting a lot, but this will be our first call since he left a few days ago.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  “Hey, beautiful. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

  “You’d think after almost a month here I could sleep past six, but no, you didn’t.”

  “You’ll be happy about that when you get back to New York. It’ll be easier to adjust to the six-hour time difference.”

  “So, it’s one o’clock there. Are you on your lunch break?”

  “We don’t have official lunch breaks around here, but, yeah, I just ate lunch.”

  “What did you make today?” I ask, knowing as the newest member of the firehouse, he’s often tasked with kitchen duty among other things.

  “Spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “I bet you’ll be happy when you don’t have to cook so much, huh?”

  “Good news on that front, we have someone retiring this week, which means we’ll get a new guy. I won’t be the probie anymore. God, it seems like I’ve been one forever.”

  “Yeah, but in a way, you’ll be a better person for having gone through it. I mean, sometimes we need to experience hard times so we can appreciate everything that happens after.”

  “Words of wisdom, Ivy Greene? I thought that was my job.”

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “Don’t be. Your saying that is everything I wanted to hear.”

  I can practically hear his smile over the phone.

  “So, what have you been doing for the past few days?” he asks.

  “I’ve been playing a lot of guitar. Tua and I have become friends. He meets me by the fire pit every night at sunset and we play together.”

  “Do I need to worry that I’ve been replaced?” he jokes.

  “Yes, Bass, you’ve been replaced by a short, stocky, forty-something native Hawaiian who plays the ukulele. Oh, and he has a wife and four kids, by the way.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he says. “And speaking of the guitar, I’ve been thinking lately about the song you sang to Dahlia. You see the irony, right?”

  “What, that she loved the rain and I sang her a song about sunshine?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  I think back to when Dahlia was barely two years old and decide to tell Bass the story. “She was in the hospital after her transplant. Volunteers would come around the pediatric wing and entertain the kids. There was a guy who played guitar. Dahlia would perk up every time he would play for her. She asked me to play, too. So every time he came in, he would teach me a little more of the song. Then when Dahlia came home, my dad bought me a guitar so I could keep playing. I’m still not sure if she really loved that particular song, or if she just knew I couldn’t play any others, but it became our thing.”

  “Thank you for sharing that memory with me,” he says. “Ivy, are you crying?”

  I close my eyes to squeeze out the tears that never came, and I realize that was the first time I’ve talked about her without choking up.

  “No. No, I’m not,” I tell him. “I think I might be smiling a little.”

  “I wish I were there to see it. I miss your smile. I miss everything about you.”

  “I miss you, too. But I’m trying to stay busy. Oh, you’ll never guess who I had lunch with yesterday.”

  “Who?” he asks.

  “Erma.”

  “The seal lady?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. Did you know she’s only seventy-six?”

  “Really? I would have guessed ninety or more.”

  “I think it’s being out in the sun so much that has aged her. But she’s fantastic. I know we learned a lot about the island from all of our excursions, but hearing about it from someone who has never left Kauai gave me a whole new perspective.”

  “She’s never left the island?” he asks.

  “Not once.”

  “I can’t imagine being stuck in one place for so long. But maybe if you don’t know what else is out there, you would never miss it.”

  “I’m glad I found out what else is out there, Sebastian.”

  “Me, too, Ivy. You sound good. I’m really happy—”

  I hear a loud siren go off in the background and then someone’s voice comes over a loudspeaker shouting out numbers and stuff. “I have to go, sweetheart. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Please be safe.”

  “Always,” he says right before the line goes dead.

  My heart races. I’m not sure I’ll ever breathe easily knowing he’s out there risking his life to save others. I worry about him. And I’m not sure I could take any more loss.

  But then I think about what Alder’s wife, Christina, keeps telling me. She says that God never gives you more than you can handle. And if that’s true, the rest of my life should be a cakewalk because no way could I handle anything else.

  Christina grew up going to church. She still goes every Sunday, making sure to bring Alder and their two-year-old son, Ricky. I appreciate all her words of wisdom even though I don’t always agree with them.

  After Dahlia died, she tried to get me to go to church with them. But I couldn’t. I found it difficult to pray to a God who took away my children. My life. I also found it difficult to be around Ricky. But lately, I’ve found myself wishing I could start praying again. Praying that Bass doesn’t get injured. Praying that I’ll be able to start living.

  I’ve promised myself that I’m going to be a better friend to Christina. She married my brother five years ago and we became instant friends. She fit right in with Holly and me. We did everything together. Right up until she had a healthy baby boy and I became a terrible friend.

  I just couldn’t be around her when she was with Ricky. I couldn’t watch him reach milestones that Dahlia hadn’t reached. I couldn’t watch him have playdates when she was cooped up in the hospital. I couldn’t witness how happy they were as a family.

  I don’t think Christina has ever held it against me. I’m sure she could imagine how things would be if her child were as sick as mine was. And she made a lot of effort to make sure we could have plenty of girls’ nights. But family gatherings were hard, and the sicker Dahlia became, the fewer I went to. In fact, last Christmas, my family had two holiday celebrations, one for all of them and one for me because they knew I couldn’t be around Ricky. I told them not to bother, that I wasn’t in the mood for celebrating when my child had just died weeks before. But they insisted.

  I wonder what this year will be like.

  I get out of bed, not wanting to think about the anniversary of Dahlia’s death. Getting through her birthday last month
was hard enough. But one thing I do know—I don’t want Eli to be the one to comfort me anymore. Bass is the one I want. He’s the one I need. He’s the man I want to spend my life with.

  I head for the shower, taking off the FDNY T-shirt with his last name on the back. I stare at it, wondering, hoping that someday maybe it will be mine.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Sebastian

  Brett raises his glass. “Out with the old, in with the new.”

  The rest of the guys raise their glasses, too, waiting for me to complete the ceremony. I reach behind me, grabbing the large box I put together for Noah August, Engine 319’s newest addition.

  Inside the box is a bunch of stuff I threw together: a soup ladle, a bottle of laundry detergent, a toilet brush, some turtle wax. I pick it up and hand it to Noah.

  “I like my shirts lightly starched, Probie,” I say, thinking how good it feels to be able to call someone else by that name.

  Noah’s eyes go wide. “I have to do your laundry, too?” he asks.

  The entire company laughs. Noah has no idea what he’s in for. Well, maybe he does. Being a probationary firefighter is a bit like rushing a fraternity. While technically, we can’t haze him, we can make him do all the scut work around the firehouse. Like cooking, cleaning the toilets, and washing the rigs.

  I raise my own glass. “Welcome to the brotherhood, Noah August.” But before I drink, I stare at him. “Anyone ever call you Auggie?”

  “Not in all of my twenty-three years,” he says, looking slightly annoyed.

  “To Auggie!” I shout, before taking a drink of my soda.

  “To Auggie!” everyone else replies.

  Noah shakes his head. But he doesn’t say anything. There’s not much he can say. Once you’ve been given a nickname, it tends to stick. Some of us never got a nickname. I was always just called Probie or Briggs. But some of the guys weren’t so fortunate. Like Duck, whose real name is Steve Hanson. Steve can’t seem to walk without his toes pointing out. Or Miles Nelson who everyone calls Stache because his facial hair makes him look like a seventies porn star.