Image credit: ilovefigs
“Leah?” I called.
“I’m in the bathroom,” she called, her voice quivering.
She was sitting in her bathtub with a pair of grey underwear and a white tank top on, popping some of the bubbles absently. Her eyes were red but she didn’t look like she’d been crying. I looked down at her, twirling the key in my hands.
“Get in,” she said looking up at me.
I stripped down to my underwear and t-shirt, tossing my bra and pants in the corner next to her clothes. She scooted to the side and turned to face me as I sat down on the other side. The water was almost unbearably hot, as it always was, and I took her hands in mine and we leaned out foreheads together. We had done ever since we came to the island, starting on the very first night we got off the boat. I can’t even remember how many times it had happened.
“What’s going to happen now?” she said quietly.
“We’ll get on as we always have,” I rubbed her hands with my thumbs. “We didn’t even know about that place before we came here. We spent months here without ever knowing about it. We’ll get on.”
She scratched her nose on the damp sleeve of her shirt, “But it was perfect.”
“I know,” I said softly. “It was.”