Simple Perfection

Della’s warmth began to tighten around me and her body started to tremble, I cried out her name and she followed me.
    After I filled her with my release she didn’t move from me. She held me inside her as we stared into each other’s eyes. All the pain and devastation of last night was there. We didn’t need words.
    “He would have wanted you to come back,” she finally said.
    “I know,” I told her.
    She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “He loved you.”
    “I know.”

Della
    T he beach was empty. It was the middle of the day in August and the beach was empty. Almost forty-eight hours had passed since Jace drowned. Tourists had already gone back to their lives. It was the locals who were left to mourn. Woods hadn’t wanted to leave the house yet. I was going to have to make him eventually but I didn’t want to push him.
    I thought I should call Tripp but I didn’t know what to say. He was probably with family. I would see him tomorrow at the funeral. I knew that. I just felt like I should call. Say something. He would mourn this just as hard as Woods. Jace was his cousin. He was like his little brother.
    Then there was Bethy. I hadn’t called Bethy. I wasn’t sure how Woods would react to that. He obviously blamed her for Jace’s death. I was afraid he always would. I wasn’t sure if forgiveness could be granted to her for this. Not from Woods.
    Rush had dropped by that morning to check on Woods. He had still been sleeping. I’d told him I’d let Woods know he came by. Grant had stopped by an hour later. His red-rimmed eyes reminded me of Woods’s hollow look.
    Woods hadn’t been awake then, either. He had slept until eleven. When he realized I wasn’t in bed with him he had jumped up and come after me. He hadn’t said anything but pulled me into his lap. We had sat there for an hour in silence.
    Finally, I had told him about Rush and Grant stopping by. Then I’d convinced him to get dressed and eat something. I turned from my view of the gulf and walked back into the kitchen to check on the chicken Parmesan I had put in the oven.
    Woods walked out of the bedroom freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “I need to go to the office today,” he said.
    “Lunch is almost ready. Can you eat first?” I really wanted him to eat.
    “After we eat I want us both to go. I want you with me.”
    I didn’t ask why, I just nodded. Right now he seemed to need me. I would be whatever he needed me to be. It was my turn to be the strong one. This time I would be his shoulder to lean on.
    “It smells good,” he said as he walked around the counter to kiss me. He was doing that a lot lately too. More than normal. Sometimes they were desperate, hungry kisses that led to more, but most of the time they were kisses that held words he couldn’t say.
    “I need to go to the store. I worked with what we had,” I explained as I pulled the chicken out of the oven. I kept myself busy fixing us each a plate and toasting some bread and buttering it.
    “Soda?” I asked him.
    “Do we have sweet tea?” he asked.
    We did. I had made it that morning. I fixed him a glass while he carried our food to the table.
    “Thank you,” he said as I set the drink down in front of him.
    “You’re welcome.”
    He reached up and grabbed my hand. “No. Thank you for being exactly what I needed and knowing when I wanted to speak and when I didn’t.” That was one of the longest sentences he’d said since we’d come home from the beach.
    “I will always be whatever you need me to be,” I said simply before taking my seat.
    We ate for a few minutes in silence.
    “I need to see his parents . . . and Tripp. He’s called my phone twice. I should see him too.”
    “Okay.”
    “I want you to go with me.”
    “Okay,” I agreed.
    Woods looked out at the water. “Do you know when the funeral is?”
    “Yes. Rush said it was tomorrow at two.”
    His jaw worked as he stared out the window. “Will Bethy be there?”
    “Yes. I’m sure she will be,” I replied.
    His jaw continued to shift like he was clenching his teeth.
    I reached over and took his hand. “Woods. She loved him too. She made a mistake that she’ll have to live with for the rest of her life, but she did love him. You know that.”
    “I can’t forgive her,” he said.
    “I understand that. But remember, he loved her. He loved her enough to die for her. She’s suffering. Don’t doubt that. She’s suffering because she knows why this