I'VE MISSED THIS...

They are both absorbed in their music for most of the morning, taking breaks only when I bring out snacks, or they need a quick breather. I settle onto the deck, watching the waves roll in; the steady lull of the ocean is a comforting background to their music. Now and then, I notice Rain looking over at me, his gaze lingering just a little too long. His blue eyes catch mine, and for a moment, it feels like no time has passed. That same magnetic pull makes me wonder if he still feels it, too.

As the sun sinks lower, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, we head to the beach. The sand is cool beneath our feet, and the rhythmic crash of waves fills the silence between us. Rainidy makes fun of the baseball cap and large aviator sunglasses Rain wears so no one will recognize him. Rainidy sprints ahead, her laughter blending with the sound of the waves as she splashes through the surf. Rain and I trail behind, our steps slow, the quiet between us charged with unspoken words.

He nudges my arm lightly, his voice low. “Do you remember that night we spent on the beach in San Diego?”

I glance over, a smile tugging at my lips. “We got lost trying to find that tiny seafood place, didn’t we?”

He chuckles, nodding. “And we ended up wandering around until dawn.”

For a moment, it’s just the two of us, our shared memories casting a warm glow between us. But then, Rainidy calls out, breaking the moment, and I watch as Rain races toward her, scooping her up and spinning her around as she shrieks with laughter. Watching them, I feel a pang, a reminder that some moments—moments that were just my daughter’s and mine—are now Rain’s, too. I guess I need to get used to it.

When we get back to the house, the sun has fully set, and the three of us are exhausted from the day. Rainidy heads to bed early, and I wander into the kitchen, craving a glass of wine. I get a glass and turn toward the fridge when I feel a warm presence behind me. Turning, I find Rain leaning in the doorway, his eyes lingering on the thin straps of my beach coverup, the loose fabric brushing against my legs.

“Katy,” he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.

I swallow hard, the air between us growing thick. His eyes linger, tracing over me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. It feels as though he’s memorizing every detail, every inch of me.

“Rain, I… just needed a drink.” My voice is softer than I intended, breathier, and his gaze darkens slightly.

He steps closer, so close I can feel his warmth, smell the faint scent of salt, and smell something distinctly him. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long.

“I’ve missed this,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed… us.”

His words catch me off guard, and I look up, meeting his gaze, my heart pounding. There’s a raw honesty in his eyes, a depth of emotion I wasn’t expecting. And for a moment, the walls I’ve built around myself start to crumble.

Before I know it, my hand reaches up, resting lightly against his chiseled chest. I can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingers, and it feels so familiar, so right, that I almost forget the years between us. All the reasons this is a bad idea and why I shouldn’t let this happen. But then, his hand slides down to my waist, pulling me just a little closer, and I forget everything.

Being this close to him again, being held in his arms, all the countless lonely nights fade away. And I’m back with the only man I’ve ever loved. The man I’ve never been able to forget, even though I’m the one who walked away.

“Katy,” he murmurs, his voice rough, filled with a longing that matches my own.

I tilt my head up, my lips parting as his face inches closer, the space between us dissolving with each heartbeat. The air feels thick and charged as if we’re both teetering on the edge of whatfeels like temptation. We both know it is way too soon for us to be feeling this way. But just as his lips brush mine, just as I can feel his warmth, the soft murmur of his breath—

His phone buzzes, and reality crashes over us, bringing us harshly back to the present.

Rain’s hand slips reluctantly away from my waist as he glances at the screen, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. ‘I need to take this,’ he murmurs, his voice tinged with regret. “It’s Derrick, my manager.”

“Yes, of course,” my world spins. Gathering my composure, I quickly stammer, “Rain, we shouldn’t be doing this anyway. Not now—not ever.”

He looks at me, his expression a mix of frustration and understanding. “Okay. But just know I’m here, and I’m not going to allow you to run away again—Not this time.” When my eyes widen in surprise, he mutters, “Not now that I know about my daughter.”

I nod in sudden understanding of the real reason he wouldn’t let me go. I step back, forcing myself to regain distance and some stability. “I know, Rain. I understand.”

We stand there in silence for just another moment, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between us. My eyes search his face for some clue on how to proceed, but there is none.

As he finally puts the phone to his ear, I slip down the hallway, feeling his eyes follow me.

It’s much later when I can finally slow the chaotic thoughts in my mind enough to sleep. Hearing him get that call from Derrick shook me. I keep comparing this Rain to the man I used to know and love. They’re so similar and yet different. His eyes are the same intense blue, and his face is more chiseled and mature. His shoulders are broader, his dark hair is still long, and his arms are just as strong as they used to be.

I remember how we’d spend hours together, all tangled up in bed lost in our own little world. How it felt to catch him staring, how it felt when he made love to me.

When I do fall asleep, my dreams are filled with unfinished music and songs. When I finally wake, there’s a strange restlessness—a yearning for the love we used to share so effortlessly. Back when life was sweet and simple, and I still believed in happily ever afters.

It’s a reminder that despite everything, there’s still a connection between us, no matter how much time has passed.

Rain

My parents’ number blinks on the screen, the one I’ve known by heart since I was a kid. There’s no evading this call. As much as I want to keep the thrill of having a daughter to myself, I know it’s time. My family needs to hear the truth–it’s unavoidable, yet it hangs over me–making me hesitate.

Finally, I tap the screen to call.

The phone rings once, twice, before my mother picks up. “Rain? Honey, is that you?”

I swallow, trying to clear the thickness in my throat. “Yeah, Mom. It’s me.”

“Well, it’s about time! Your father and I were just saying how long it’s been since you called. Are you alright?”

I close my eyes, steeling myself. “I’m good, Mom. Actually, I have some news. Something big.”

A pause, and I can almost see the look she’s giving Dad as they both go silent. “Okay, dear,” she says slowly, “What is it?”

I take a breath. “I, uh... I have a daughter, Mom. Her name’s Rainidy. She’s eleven.”

The silence stretches longer this time. Then she whispers, almost to herself, “Rainidy, who’s eleven…” A little laugh slips from her. “I’m sorry, did you just say you have a daughter?”

“I did. I do.” I say it quietly, giving her time to let the truth sink in.

“Rain,” my father’s voice cuts in, “we need some context here. You’re talking about a granddaughter we’ve never known? How is that possible?”