How it was Sai, that old village tabby cat, that finally got Dee more comfortable, that got us talking.
How much Dee changed! She didn’t just become a beautiful woman with curves that make me swallow hard. But she grew a hard skin, found a spring of compassionate self-confidence that made her the brightest person in any room, pushed back at her asshole father, and started to finally do what she wanted to in life.
It was all getting better; we were on the right path. We were going to get out together!
I look away from the person with the dogs, stare out to sea, to where the world curves around. Hunting down Dee often feels like chasing the horizon. I’ve gotten nowhere in ninety days. Each day seems to move at half-speed. Each night slower still.
I hear the crinkle of a food wrapper. It’s carried on the wind. I look toward the person by the shore, see now that it’s a woman. She kneels down, pours something into her hands and then lets the dogs eat out of it.
They’ve got to be strays. Nobody feeds their dogs like that when taking them for a walk. Maybe a snack or two, but not a handful.
I wonder if Dee would have wanted to own dogs. I don’t mind cats, but had my ideal life for us played out, we might have owned a dog, too. Maybe a rescued pit bull.
The woman stands up, and one of her hands goes to her belly. She rubs it. I wonder at it for a moment, turn my eyes away back toward the horizon and the setting sun. It’s a huge lantern coming back down to—
I snap my eyes back toward the woman. She’s still got her hand on her belly, and I see there a small bump.
My heart starts to race, blood thunders in my ears. There is no chance in hell… it could be anybody! How many pregnant women are there? There must be loads.
There’s no chance.
“Come on,” she says to the dogs. Her voice is carried on the wind.
Dee’s voice.
I recognize it instantly.
Then I smell a hint of perfume.
Dee’s perfume.
I recognize it instantly.
I stand up, start walking toward her. She hasn’t noticed me.
As I get closer, her features become clearer.
I see her smile.
Dee’s smile.
I recognize it instantly.
“Dee!” I shout, but a passing car drowns me out.
“Dee!”
Chapter Thirty Four
I spin around on the spot after hearing my name called.
I recognize his voice instantly.
I see a huge man walking toward me, his broad shoulders swaying.
I recognize his gait instantly.
He closes the distance between us, his strides urgent, his hands outstretched. Slowly his face comes into focus, and I see the same face that stops people on the streets, only harder. I see the same eyes that could be mistaken for a wolf’s in the night, only darker. I see the same lips, perfect for kissing, only thinner.
He takes my face, a little frantic, a little rough, cups it into his hot palms, and I feel them calloused where they once were smooth.
His kiss is nothing delicate, nothing gentle. I’m lifted off my feet before I even know what’s happening, and I’m confused and wondering how he found me, and only after moments do I gather myself, find his lower lip, and kiss him back.
I recognize his kiss instantly.
It hasn’t changed, but it’s rougher around the edges, and his tongue seems restless, as though he wants to explore all of my mouth all at once.
He holds me tighter, breaks the kiss, then moves his lips to my ear where I feel him against my neck, where I hear him smelling me.
I press myself into him, want to be swallowed up by him. I don’t know what I feel, but relief isn’t the word. It’s confusing, a hurricane of conflicting thoughts swirling around in my mind.
How did he find me?
Did he bring Dad with him?
The last one stings: How much have I missed him?
His hands are hungry, run up my sides, hold onto me. It’s like he never wants to let me go. I don’t try to push back, I let him just hold me, smell me. His body shakes a little, not from tears, but from… I don’t know what.
And then I find my strength. I feel my own surge. I grip onto him, as if for dear life, hold him tighter against me, cradle the back of his head as I sense the weight of his emotions from the drop of his shoulders.
It’s my Duncan, and he’s here… he’s found me.
I look into his eyes. They’ve changed. He’s changed. He’s got new scars, but they aren’t fighting scars. His hands are just as rough on the knuckles as ever, but now his palms are no longer so soft. They’re harder; he’s stopped taking care of them.
That means he’s stopped fighting.
He doesn’t say anything, he just looks at me, and his eyes travel down my body, to the bump of my belly.
He puts a hand there, kneels down, presses his face to my belly, holds me around the small of my back. His fingers slip beneath my sweater and he lifts it up, exposing my skin, and he kisses me softly, making me shiver, sending goose bumps erupting up and down the length of my body.