Twenty-Two
The next morning, they woke early and watched the sun slant through the swaying masts of the harbor. Bash overflowed with a sense of peace that he’d rarely felt in his life, all things considered.
Toni sat crosslegged in the glider next to him, hanging onto her coffee mug as if it contained the secrets of the universe. They hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep, after all. He catalogued a touch of shadow under her eyes, her lush lips slightly swollen from their kisses, her look of thoroughly satisfied relaxation.
She pointed down the harbor at the farthest float. “Right there. That’s where it happened. Do you know that I still avoid that ramp like it’s cursed?”
He watched it rise and fall with the wake of an incoming trawler. “Tristan said you didn’t swim for a year.”
“That’s true.
