"What do you mean, makes more sense?"
"Oh, nothing," he says, "it's just Maker spent the last few months talking about this girl that's too good for him and now I understand why. I didn't realize you were Marley Grove."
Bellamy scowls. "Jameson. Don't say that."
Maker looks down into the fire, not meeting my eyes.
"I think you've had too much to drink," Jemma says. "Jameson, you need to hold your tongue."
He kisses his wife. "You're telling me what I need to hold?"
She laughs, "You're bad."
"I could get worse," he says.
"Oh my God, you are such a troublemaker. Listen, Marley, Jameson doesn't know what he's talking about."
"He does though, doesn't he?" Maker says, speaking up. "There's a reason I didn't come after you. It's because you're way too good."
"Hey," Wavy says, cutting in uncharacteristically. "I think you guys should go talk alone. I feel like these other men, Beam and Jameson and my darling husband Walker, have had too much whiskey tonight and I don't want them to say something their wives will regret. So I'm calling it a night. Walker, you're coming with me. Let's go check on the babies. Thank you again, Bellamy. This was such a fun night. I'll be sure to get up in the morning to help you with breakfast."
Walker and Wavy leave and the other two couples stand.
"Sorry," Jameson says. "I truly didn't mean anything by it. I wasn't trying to start anything. And I reckon everyone's right. I have had too much to drink, too much shitty ass whiskey."
Jemma grabs him by the collar and drags him away, and Beam and Bellamy pause. "I'm glad you came, Marley," Bellamy tells me, "and I hope this isn't getting too awkward." She looks between me and Maker.
I shake my head. "No, I'm fine. I'll just stay down at the yurt?"
"Yeah, your bag's already in there." We had dropped it off before we came up to the barbecue.
"Thank you," I say. "I'll be up to help for breakfast too. I'm pretty good at making bacon and pancakes."
"Perfect," Bellamy says, giving me a quick hug. "And, Maker, you be nice."
Beam shakes his head, lifting his hands in defense as if he had nothing to do with it.
And he walks away, leaving us alone. The fire's nearly out and Maker tosses some water on top of it, killing the last of the flames. "That got awkward," I say.
"It did," Maker says stoically.
"I never would have come here if I'd known."
Maker looks up then, sharply. "You wouldn't have? Because here I am wanting to believe that if you knew I was here you'd want to be here more than ever."
"There might be some truth in that," I say, "but…"
"But what?" Maker asks. "You're mad at me?"
"Do I have reason to be?" I ask him.
"I wanted to come to Riverside to see you. I was planning on coming tomorrow, though I doubt you believe that now."
"I believe you when you tell me things," I tell him. "I believe in you," I say more firmly.
"Why? You listened to everyone talking tonight. I fucked things up 100 times over."
"Yeah?" I say. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"
"Maybe," he says, strain in his voice. He stands, walking toward me and I get to my feet, looking up at him.
"I wish you would have come back for me," I tell him honestly, plainly.
"Your brothers hate me."
"So?" I ask.
"So, I didn't want to get my ass handed to me again. And beyond that, I didn't want my being there to hurt you. I care too much about you, Marley. I don't want to see you hurt on my account."
"Then don't hurt me," I say. "Instead, kiss me."
And so Maker does. Without wasting time, without hesitation, he lowers his mouth to mine and he kisses me, sweeping me off my feet all over again.
Maker
I kiss her the way I've been thinking about for the last few months. When I lay awake at night in my half-built cabin remembering the night I shared with Marley Grove. The curve of her body, the swell of her breasts, the way her eyelashes fluttered when she came… the memory flashes before me as I kiss her.
The memory runs over me, through me, as our lips press tight against one another. Our mouths open. Her tongue finds mine and, God, I need this woman now, forever, always. She kisses me hard, deeply, tugging at my shirt as if she needs me closer and also wants to push me away.
When the kiss ends, I cup her cheeks, my thumbs on her cheekbones, my eyes on hers and hers alone.
"I'm sorry, Marley. I should've come back sooner. I should have fought harder. I shouldn't have listened to your brothers.”
She shakes her head, presses her fingertips to my lips. "No, it's okay, Maker. Everything in its own time, right?"
I nod. "See," I say. “Even that, that reply, it's more than I deserve."
“How long are we going to be going around in these circles?" she asks me. "Because we don't have all day. We don't have…"
I pick her up then at her waist, the curve of her flesh in my hands. I carry her down the hill toward the water. We may not have all day, but we sure as hell have all night.
I take her to my boat, the one I came here on, the one we left here on all those weeks ago. With her at my side as I took my seat in the captain's chair.
Now we don't sail away. We stay put. The night is ours. I take her below deck and I lay her on the bed. I kneel before her. She scoots to the edge, looking down at me, and I press my hands to her thighs.
"I fucking missed you," I tell her, pleading with her, "and I fucking need you, Marley."
She blinks back tears. "Are you sure it's me you want, that it's not just the idea of me?"
"I've spent the
