The really stupidly expensive one that Caleb bought for me last year that I told him to return? He didn't and I tried it on this morning and decided I would go and check out the pool, which we had checked and filled the moment the roofers left and I figured it might be finally warm.
It was so why not? It's April third in Lotus land which is totally pool weather, even though the rest of the continent is still having winter. We've got the seeds out for the garden. We're in shorts.
Except for me. I'm in that pink bikini.
Which is nice. It fits well. It isn't see-through when wet (I showered in it to check) and it doesn't gap at the back above my tiny little behind like everything else I own (even the cashmere underpants). It just fits. And it's beautiful, a ballet-pink that somehow enhances my paleness and endless ability to blush and yet also makes it striking.
Hey, freckle-face. He is already in the water when I walk down, a stack of towels in my arms for the tiny poolhouse (a glorified shed they put in next to the new sauna, which holds a whopping eight of us) a light kimono wrapped around me, tied with a pale pink ribbon that matches the swimsuit perfectly.
Hey, yourself. How is the water?
Come in and find out. He smiles, gliding away from the edge into the deep end.
I take off the kimono and do a curtsy. It fits.
I knew it would. I had it made for you.
How do you know my sizes so perfectly every time?
From decades of touching you.
Oh.
Oh is right. Come in while you can. It's supposed to rain this week.
I walk down the steps into the warm water. Goosebumps announce my presence. His eyes mark my path. I walk until I am a third of the way across the pool and that's where my feet leave the bottom and I need to swim. I turn and go back to where it laps against my shoulders and he frowns.
Swim to me? It's warmer over here.
Did you pee?
Pardon me?
Lochlan used to pee in the lake to warm me up when I'd be cold. He told me it was magic. It was years before I realized he was peeing around me.
That's disgusting. And also genius.
I know, right?
I have a different idea to warm you. I reach him and he puts his arms around me, pulling me close. I put my arms around his neck and hold on so I don't have to try and stay above water.
Better?
Yes. But it isn't better, it's worse.
What makes it worse? (stop reading my mind.)
It's you.
I'm not so bad, Bridget
You're not so good, either.
