The Last Frost

We stand there for a moment, foreheads pressed together, the world fading away. And for the first time in a long time, I feel truly alive.

The kiss lingers between us, a living thing, as we return to the dance. We don’t speak of it, not directly, but it’s there in every glance, every accidental brush of hands. A promise. A beginning.

In the weeks that follow, the tension between us becomes a physical thing, a hum in the air whenever we’re together. We still meet at the allotment most days, still work side by side in companionable silence. But now that silence is charged, heavy with unspoken words, unvoiced desires.

The summer heat intensifies, the sun beating down on us as we weed and water and tend to our growing plants. I feel it in every pore, every inch of my skin, this heat that mirrors the one building inside me.

Robb feels it too. I see it in the way his gaze lingers on me when he thinks I’m not looking, in the way his fingers brush mine when he hands me a tool or a seedling. Casual touches that send sparks shooting through my veins.

One particularly sweltering afternoon, we’re working on the irrigation system, trying to get the new sprinklers working properly. The air is thick and still, the only sound the drone of insects and the distant hum of traffic.

I’m fiddling with a connection, my brow furrowed in concentration, when the hose suddenly springs to life, water spraying everywhere. I let out a yelp, jumping back, but not before I’m thoroughly drenched.

Robb rushes over, his face a mask of concern. “Susannah! Are you alright?”

I look down at myself, at my soaked shirt and shorts, and burst out laughing. I can’t help it. The shock of the cold water, the absurdity of the situation, the tension of the past few weeks – it all bubbles up and spills out in a fit of giggles.

Robb stares at me for a moment, then he’s laughing too, the sound deep and rich and wonderfully familiar. We stand there, laughing like fools, the water still spraying around us.

When our laughter finally subsides, we’re both breathless and grinning. Robb reaches out, brushing a wet strand of hair from my cheek. His touch is gentle, tender, but it sends a jolt through me, a lightning bolt of desire.

Our eyes meet, and the laughter dies in our throats. The air between us shifts, charges, the humor of the moment giving way to something darker, hotter.

Robb’s gaze drops to my lips, his own parting slightly. I sway towards him, drawn by an invisible force. His hand tightens on my cheek, pulling me closer.

We’re a breath apart, a heartbeat away from a kiss, when the sprinkler suddenly dies, the water pressure giving out.

The moment shatters, reality crashing back in. We spring apart, both of us flushing, avoiding each other’s eyes.

“We should…” I trail off, gesturing vaguely at the hose.

“Right,” Robb says, his voice rough. “I’ll just…”

We fumble to fix the sprinkler, our movements clumsy, our thoughts a tangled mess. But as we work, our eyes keep meeting, keep clinging, the promise of what almost happened hanging between us, a tantalizing, terrifying thing.

I can’t stop thinking about that almost-kiss. It haunts me, taunting me with what could have been. With what I wanted, what I still want.

But fear still holds me back. Fear of the unknown, of the future. Fear of losing myself in this, in him.

And then, a few days later, a brochure arrives in the mail. A river cruise through Europe, winding through the waterways of Holland and Belgium. Arthur and I had always dreamed of taking a trip like this, of seeing the world together. But then he got sick, and the dream faded, replaced by the reality of hospitals and treatments and the slow, agonizing decline.

I stare at the brochure for a long time, my thoughts a whirl. And then, before I can second-guess myself, I call Robb.

“Susannah,” he says when he answers, his voice warm. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Robb,” I say, my heart pounding. “I… I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” I can hear the smile in his voice. “What kind of proposition?”

I take a deep breath. “I’m thinking of taking a trip. A river cruise through Europe. And I was wondering if… if you’d like to come with me.”

Silence on the other end of the line. For a moment, I think I’ve made a mistake, that I’ve misread everything.

But then Robb speaks, his voice rough with emotion. “Susannah… are you sure?”

I close my eyes, my heart in my throat. “Yes,” I say. “I’m sure.”

Another pause, and then: “In that case,” Robb says, his voice warm, “I’d love to.”

We leave a week later, boarding the sleek river cruise ship in Amsterdam. The journey is everything I dreamed it would be, a winding path through picturesque towns and stunning landscapes. We cycle through tulip fields, explore ancient castles, dine on gourmet meals as the world drifts by outside our window.

But it’s the moments with Robb that I cherish the most. The shared laughter over a mispronounced Dutch word. The quiet conversations in the ship’s lounge, watching the sunset paint the sky. The way his hand finds mine as we stroll along the cobblestone streets of a quaint village.

He’s everything I could want in a companion. Attentive and kind, with a dry wit that matches my own. He makes me feel seen, cherished, in a way I haven’t felt in years.

But beneath the easy companionship, the tension still simmers. It’s there in the way his gaze lingers on me when he thinks I’m not looking. In the way my heart races when he takes my arm to steady me on a uneven patch of pavement. In the charged silence that falls between us in the intimacy of our shared cabin.

One night, about halfway through the trip, we’re sitting on the balcony of our cabin, watching the moonlight dance on the water. The air is cool, the only sound the gentle lap of waves against the ship.

I can feel the weight of Robb’s gaze on me, heavy and wanting. I turn to him, my heart in my throat.

“Robb,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He reaches for me, his hand cradling my cheek. “Susannah,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire.

He leans in, his lips a hairsbreadth from mine. My breath catches, my thoughts scattering.

But then he pulls back, his expression serious. “Susannah,” he says, his voice rough. “I need you to be sure. I need you to want this, truly want this. Not because you’re lonely, not because you’re running from the past. But because you want me, now, in this moment.”

I look at him, my heart pounding. “I do want you, Robb,” I say, my voice trembling with emotion. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.”

Robb’s eyes darken, his grip on my cheek tightening. “Thank God,” he breathes, and then his lips are on mine, hungry and demanding.

The kiss is explosive, a dam breaking, all the tension of the past weeks pouring out in a rush of passion. I cling to him, my arms winding around his neck, my body arching into his.

We stumble back into the cabin, our lips never parting, our hands fumbling with buttons and zippers. Clothes fall away, discarded in a frantic rush, until we’re skin to skin, heart to heart.

Robb’s hands are everywhere, tracing the lines of my body, igniting fires in their wake. I gasp as he touches me, as he explores every inch of my skin, his touch reverent and worshipful.

“Susannah,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice rough with desire. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect.”

I flush, heat pooling low in my belly. “Robb,” I gasp, my hands fisting in his hair. “Please…”

He understands, his touch shifting, focusing. He trails kisses down my body, his lips tracing a searing path across my skin. I arch into him, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Robb,” I whimper, my hips rocking against his touch. “Robb, please…”

He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin.

“You,” I gasp, my voice trembling. “I want you. All of you.”

Robb groans, his control snapping. He surges up my body, his lips claiming mine in a searing kiss. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him inside me.

He enters me in one smooth thrust, and I cry out, my body arching off the bed. He feels perfect inside me, filling me, completing me in a way I didn’t know was possible.