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It was you who recommended the trip in the first place.
You lean back on the couch, listening to the silence come from the phone tucked up to your ear. So far your conversation has been mostly one sided, you telling Phillip about your day and getting nothing but tired hums in response. It’s usually this way. He doesn’t sound bored-- he’s told you countless times how much he loves listening to you talk-- but you can feel the exhaustion from the other side of the phone. It’s been a long week for him, a long week of working nonstop made longer by being away from you.
He’s always hit with it right before he comes home. The week wears him down until his excitement to be back in your arms is more draining than anything else. So he lets your voice wash over him as he sits tucked away in some corner on base, waving off Shadows until you’ll finally wish him good night and hang up. It’s good enough until he sees you again. It’s all he really has.
You pause, picking lint off the pillow beside you. “We should go somewhere when you get back,” you say, not really sure where the thought came from or even why you said it.
“Where’d we go?” His voice picks up slightly. He’s interested. Maybe. You can’t tell through the phone. Your brain scrambles for an answer and settles on one quickly.
“We could go to that lakehouse you were talking about. Your uncle’s?”
“Cousin’s,” he corrects you, followed by what you assume is a thoughtful silence. You sit in it with him before he lets out a happy huff. “I like the sound of that.”
— — —
By the time you’re outside, towel under one arm and bag in the other, he’s already untying the boat from the dock. He’s quick with it, too quick, because now the boat is drifting away before you’ve even left the grass. You hit the wood running and you immediately regret leaving your shoes inside, moving quickly from foot to foot and letting out a high pitched hum as you run towards the boat. Hot hot hot hot hot.
He watches you from the boat with a stupid lopsided grin. “Didn’t want shoes, sweetheart?”
“I figured I’d be fine without them,” you laugh, stopping on the edge of the dock to evaluate the long step over the water to the boat.
He reaches out a hand to you. You take it, moving past him to quickly sit down at the front of the boat before the waves make you topple over.
The speedboat is small and almost a decade old, but it’s in such good condition that you worry it might just be for show. It was already tied up and on the water when you pulled into the driveway. It came with the house, Phillip explained as the two of you brought the bags inside, along with a broken jetski that he insists you try out before you leave. There’s also a pontoon in the boathouse, but both of you had unanimously and wordlessly decided that the speedboat is the better option. You lean back against the warm leather, letting out a pleased sigh.
The boat rumbles to life as he pulls away from the dock. He watches you from behind his shades. You know he’s watching you even as you’re looking at the water because it’s all he does. It’s all he’s been doing for the past two days he’s been with you. He’ll cast you glances whether you’re looking or not, take you in over and over again and never get tired of the sight.
When you finally turn over your shoulder to look at him, his expression shifts and he’s grinning at you, one palm on the wheel and wind brushing back his hair as he pulls out of the cove.
You watch him too, but you make sure to do it in moments when he’s not looking. You get half a glimpse of him shaving in the mirror from your spot on the bed before he eventually calls you in to help him with the nape of his neck. You peer at him through the kitchen windows when he’s working on his truck, you glance at him as he drives you two around in it, one hand on the wheel and the other absent-mindedly brushing a thumb back and forth on your thigh. You love him in the quiet lulls between his work when he drops all his guard and lets you take him to bed and brush a hand through his hair until he’s asleep. When the edges wear off and all that’s left is the man you love more than anything in the world.
Water splashes up onto your face as you hit a small wave. His eyes crease behind the glasses as he watches you tilt your head back and laugh. You’re always happier when you’re out of the house with him, living quickly by his side, dragging him to festivals and fairs and vacations you’ve got all planned out.
You tuck your legs up to your chest and rest your head on your knees with a soft smile.
You don’t know it, but you’re glowing. He would stay out here with you forever if he could.
— — —
You kick your feet off the back of the boat, leaning to the side to reach over him for your drink. He fishes it out of the plastic bag and hands it to you wordlessly. After piloting around and stopping at the marina for gas and drinks, the two of you had found a quiet cove to drop anchor.
He cracks open his beer. “I got a reservation at a nice restaurant near the house for tomorrow night.”
You keep your eyes on the water. “Yeah?”
He laughs softly, looking at you. “Yeah. Figured you could get all dolled up and we could go out.” He takes a sip before setting his drink down. “Haven’t taken you on a date in a long while.”
This is true, but it’s hardly his fault— and hardly something you mind. This is the first time he’s been back from work for more than a couple days in over a month. Usually he’ll come home Friday or Saturday evening, both of you will sleep in until noon and lounge around the house together until it’s back in bed, and then he’s gone the following morning. You’ll hold him close to you when you can, it doesn’t matter if you’re in your cluttered kitchen or at some restaurant he’d picked out. Time with him is time with him. You’ll love it either way.
You turn to him. “I look forward to it.”
There’s a pause. He takes a breath, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “I’m happy we came out here. Better than bein’ stuck in the damn house until I’m gone again.”
“I like being stuck in the house with you,” you hum, leaning towards him until your arm is pressed against his. “I like being anywhere with you.”
“Didn’t mean I don’t like it,” he corrects himself, looking down at you. His hand rests on yours, fingers brushing over your knuckles. “Just meant it’s nice to get out.”
“I get what you mean,” you chirp, looking down at your hands. You stare at the ring on his finger and the small cuts littering his knuckles. You pause, then look back up at him. “I didn’t pack anything fancy.”
“Then we’ll go out and buy you something to wear before we leave for dinner.”
You laugh at that, but you know he’s serious. He says it like it’s the obvious solution, because to him it is. He’d give you the world if he could, but a shopping trip will have to suffice.
“Really?”
“Of course.” He hums, leaning over to kiss you again.
His lips land on the corner of yours this time, and you lift a hand up to cup his cheek. You move to return the kiss fully, but his hands shoot to your waist faster than you can turn and before you know it he’s peppering kisses down your neck. Warmth washes over you. You’d melt right then and there if you could. He’s gentle, he always is, as his hands snake around your waist fully. You can feel him smiling into your neck as he lets out a pleased hum.
He’s missed you, missed this, missed having your weight and warmth nearby for him to latch onto and love without warning. So when he has you he’s all over you. He’ll wrap himself around you and hook his head over your shoulder when you’re making lunch. He’ll bump his leg up against yours under the table as you talk about your weeks over coffee. Any space around you, he’ll fill.
He’ll be packing up in less than a week. You won’t have forever. But you’ll have a while.
You let time slip your mind as his lips find yours again.
“Love you, gorgeous.”
“Love you too.”