Page 53

THIRTY-ONE

COURTNEY

The sun glints off the water like a million scattered diamonds, the yacht bobs as laughter rises in bursts from the upper deck.

Auguste’s family is loud, chaotic, and absolutely perfect in a way that makes my chest ache.

They’re tangled up in each other’s business, quick to tease, quicker to hug, and so painfully affectionate it feels like I’m watching a movie I hadn’t been cast in—but somehow, he’s pulled me onto the set anyway.

I sit cross-legged on the deck beside a small kiddie pool Auguste and his brother Etienne rigged up with towels and a few inches of water for the twins, Ethan and Elliot. They’re tiny whirlwinds of baby babble and drool, armed with a bucket of foam toy sharks that have already bitten me six times.

“Oh my gosh,” I exclaim, lifting a rubber great white out of the water. “These sharks are hungry.”

Ethan lets out a high-pitched shriek of glee, arms flailing as he drags his green diapered butt closer, splashing me. Meanwhile Elliot continues gnawing on a foam water squirter.

“Are you trying to give the little monsters nightmares?” Auguste says, grinning as he settles beside me with a glass of icy soda water garnished with mint and lime.

“No. They love it,” I say, holding up the shark so it “chomps” his bicep. “It’s called the circle of life.”

Auguste leans in, voice low and warm by my ear. “You’re savage, and I like it, but if either of them starts demanding true crime documentaries by bedtime, I’m blaming you. ”

Elliot crawls over and promptly sits on my foot like it’s the most comfortable seat on the boat. I blink down at him, heart doing a weird soft thing in my chest.

“You were like this once,” I say to Auguste, eyes still on the baby. “Tiny. Bite-sized. Probably still scowling at everyone.”

He laughs. “I had the same hair. My mom says I looked like a hedgehog with attitude.”

My eyes flick back to Ethan, then up to Auguste. The thought hits before I can stop it…

What would a mini Auguste look like now? Would he have his forest green eyes or maybe my blue ones?

Jesus, no.

Nope.

I have no right thinking about mini mes and hims. Especially when I know I’d probably never be a good mother. I’m not naturally affectionate and it’s not like I had the best example of how to be a mom.

Meanwhile Auguste knows exactly what a caring, nurturing mother is like. Auguste’s family is the kind people imagine with white picket fences and pastel colored homes, cluttered with family portraits and childhood keepsakes.

They’re the kind of perfect that doesn’t feel like performance. Simply love, unfiltered.

I’m pretty much soaked when Auguste walks the boys over to Sabrina. Her arms are open wide, coaxing them to run to her on shaky legs.

“You’re good with them,” étienne says, sliding onto the deck chair beside me, alcohol free beer in hand.

This is the most he’s said to me since we arrived. I’ve felt him observing me, biding his time. This moment.

I look up, catching the weight in his expression. Protective and serious. The way Auguste looks anytime another man so much as breathes in my direction.

“I like kids,” I say, fishing the toys out of the paddling pool and shaking them dry.

He nods slowly. “Yeah. So does he. Always has.”

My stomach does a slow roll in time to the picture unraveling in my head. The image I can’t shake of Auguste and his babies.

étienne takes a sip of his beer, then tilts it toward me. “You know he’s all in, right? Like, no brakes. This isn’t only a fun fling for him, he’s brought you into our family and he’s got you playing with my boys. ”

I swallow. “étienne?—”

“I’m not here to scare you off, Courtney,” he says, eyes softening. “I’m just… that’s my baby brother falling for you. I know he’s done some stupid shit, but it comes from a good place.”

“I know that and I would never use any of that against Auguste or intentionally hurt him.”

“Good,” étienne says. “Then you understand why I have to say this. That if you’re not into Auggie like he’s into you… you need to walk. Cut him loose and be cruel to be kind. Before he gets any deeper.”

I nod in reply, but as he gets up, I say, “I care about him too.”

étienne’s hazel eyes narrow on me. “Perfect. Because in our family, we stick no matter what.”

Before I can answer, Auguste appears with the disposable camera he bought at the gallery earlier in one hand, a sippy cup in the other, and an excited Elliot balanced on his hip.

“Look who’s ready for some daddy time,” he croons, handing the cutie to his father as he attempts to throw himself at me.

“Say cheese, buddy,” Auguste murmurs, raising the camera. “Smoosh in.”

The camera clicks on my soaked, bedraggled appearance right before he tugs me to him and leads me to the loungers where my kindle is waiting next to his iPad.

He sinks onto the empty sun bed and takes me down with him, seating me between his legs. As he hands me my kindle, he winds up the camera and clicks again.

“Why would you want a picture of this?”

He shrugs, pressing a kiss to my temple and snapping another photo. “Because you look perfect and you belong in my memories. You belong here.”

And just like that, my heart is free-falling again. Plummeting deeper into something and someone I had no idea existed for me.

Putting the camera down, Auguste picks up his iPad. I’m settling into his chest and into my book when I glance up and see the cover of mine and Delilah’s last read flash up on his reading app.

It’s overwhelming how good it feels that he’s taking an interest in something I love. I don’t know much about men and relationships, but I know that not all show interest in their lover’s hobbies.

“Where you at?” I ask, raking my nails along his short, prickly beard.

“Your favorite part,” he retorts with a devious grin, brow cocked and loaded with innuendo .

“What’s that?”

Auguste brings his iPad closer, showing me the header of the chapter: Run, Pet. Run.

“That’s definitely one of my top three moments.”

“If you had a safeword, what would it be?”

“A safeword?”

“Yeah, Court, your safeword. What is it?”

“Umm… cake.” Because nobody has gone out of their way to bake me breakfast every morning.

That morning when he showed up at my door with Samson and his home baked cake, I was hooked.

“Cake?”

“Can’t have your cake and eat it, right?”

Green eyes glow with mischief as he settles back with a chuckle.

One arm cradling me with his hand flat on my belly, thumb rubbing endless circles while he reads and I attempt to get into my book.

It’s impossible though. I’m too aware of the way his body reacts to what he’s reading.

His breaths shallow and his pulse hammers louder into my ear.

I don’t know when I fall asleep, but I wake up with Auguste taking my kindle from my hand and putting it down along with his iPad. Pressing a kiss to my temple, he pulls his oversized hoodie over me and we both drift off together.

We napped for almost as long as the twins, and I feel better for it when we sit for dinner, a picnic type spread of finger food.

Every single thing is more delicious than the last. I can’t get over how thoughtful Marley was to make sure that everything is milk free so I don’t feel left out.

More than that, I can’t get over how easy these people are to be around.

It takes me back to Auguste’s remark earlier— you belong here.

“Are you guys ready for the start of the season?” Eddie asks, taking a small bit of tomato from his bruschetta and giving it to one of the twins sitting between him and Rina.

“Sure,” Auguste and étienne reply in unison.

“How does the shoulder feel?” Rina asks Auguste.

“Fine, I’ve been working with the team therapists and trainers to keep it loose. It feels good.”

“So it was a good decision to come back early after all,” his dad says .

Auguste’s hand rests on my thigh, tugging my leg flush to his. “Definitely.”

“He needs all the practice he can get. We’re gonna grind your asses so hard this season,” étienne teases.

“Maybe try a different resolution this season… one you can stick to cause it’s starting to look bad how fast you fail.”

“No, we are not starting the trash talk this early,” Rina groans before focusing on me. “How about you, Courtney, you looking forward to the hustle and bustle?”

Oh.

I open my mouth to speak but suddenly all eyes are trained on me and after the conversation étienne and I had, I don’t know what to say.

“Actually, Court has a job lined up with the Crescents football team in New Orleans this year.” Auguste’s hand grips my thigh tighter as he leans in and kisses the top of my head, lingering a beat longer while he breathes me in.

“She spent the summer with the marketing and PR teams here for experience.”

Hugging his arm I scoot as close as I can get to him. This is why getting involved with him and spending time with his family was risky. Now they’re all staring at us like we’re aliens and hearing Auguste talk about me leaving is crushing me from the inside out.

“They signed that hot British player recently,” Sabine croons next to Marley, fanning herself.

“Seriously?” Auguste snaps at her.

“What? I’ve never seen so many tattoos and that much attitude in my life. I could think of worse teams to work for.”

“Stop it.” Marley elbows her, playfully. “You’re going to give him a heart attack.”

I think an aneurysm is most likely given the hard clench of Auguste’s jaw and the pissed flush glowing bright on his face.

“The Crescents are tipped to go all the way this year,” étienne says, changing the conversation. A hint of pride tinges his voice when he adds, “Good on you for getting in with them. They have a great reputation for looking after their staff.”

“Oh… it’s just an internship, so...”

“Everyone has to start somewhere,” Rina says, lifting her glass of rosé. “Cheers to everyone and all your endeavors. It’s going to be a big, wonderful year. New family, new babies… new adventures.”

“Here, here!” Eddie toasts with her.

“To a girl,” Sabine toasts with Marley. “Pink skates! ”

“Good luck, Auggie,” étienne taunts again.

Auguste clinks his drink to his. “Don’t cry too hard when I run circles around your defense.”

They’re all toasting one another when Auguste taps his glass with mine. My stare flashes to his and before I can utter a word, his mouth is on mine. The kiss chaste and sweet while his fingers dig deep into his marks on my thighs, hidden beneath the light fabric of my maxi dress.

When he pulls back with a light nip, his disposable camera is back in his hand.

“To the best memories,” he murmurs with a click.

“The best memories.” I hug his arm tighter, refusing to let go while we eat.

Dinner continues to sunset, and as we turn back to land, Auguste takes me up to the top deck.

We’re alone, the sun dipping low, painting the horizon in fuchsia and tangerine.

The breeze tugs at my frizzy curls and the salt air kisses my skin as I wriggle deeper into Auguste’s body behind me.

His arms wrapped around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder while I hold on to the railing.

The shutter clicks again and my chest clenches tighter.

“Out of film,” he huffs. “Guess I’ll have to remember this one the old-fashioned way.”

He pulls out his phone with a chuckle and snaps a selfie of the two of us. The last time anyone took this many photos of me was before my mom moved us away from my dad. There were no more photos when he was taken out of the picture.

Auguste turns me in his arms, stare roving over my face like there are a million things he needs to say and there isn’t a single word left to say them. It’s the feeling that’s been roiling inside me all day.

The music drifts softly from the deck below. The melody is light and bouncy, and when Auguste holds out his hand, I take it without hesitation.

Because it’s Auguste.

Because when his hand is in mine, the whole world feels quieter, brighter… better.

We sway under the darkening sky, the motion of the boat beneath our feet making every step just a little off balance.

Every little bit perfectly imperfect like us.

Me, him, and this sneaky, unexpected thing that’s grown between us.

This connection that I’ve never shared with anyone else and that I know I’ll never find outside of him and me.

I peer up at him, trying to steal one more perfect glance.

A memory that I’ll keep safe in my head and my heart.

As always he beats me to it. Auguste’s already got his eyes on me, doing the same.

Holding me like I’m some kind of miracle or phenomena.

And even though it kills me to find my ache mirrored in his eyes, I don’t look away.

“If you didn’t have to leave,” he whispers, still rocking us from side to side, “would you want more?”

Always asking the hard hitting questions…

Rolling onto the tips of my toes, I press my forehead to his. Close my eyes. Breathe in his scent.

“It already feels like more,” I croak over his lips.

What we have… what we’ve found is everything I never imagined I could have. That I was worthy of having or capable of finding.

This is… love.

The kind I never allowed myself to believe in outside of fiction. That I’ve been too afraid to stumble into.

Until Auguste.

Because love—real, terrifying, soul-deep love—doesn’t guarantee a happy ending.

And mine is already bleeding out of me, drop by drop, every time I look at him.

Every time I think about leaving.

Even more when I think about staying.

Because either way this love is going to wreck me.