Chapter Text
The winding road curled tighter the higher they climbed, trees leaning close on either side, September sunlight slanting through the branches in golden shafts. The wedding still hummed faintly in Belly’s mind, the laughter, clinking glasses, chaotic toasts. But here, with the windows down and insects buzzing, it already felt like a whole other lifetime.
Jeremiah tapped the steering wheel in time with a song long since faded into static. He couldn’t help but keep grinning like an idiot. Every few seconds, he glanced at her, as though to check that she was still there, still his.
The cabin finally came into view, wood darkened by age, with a stone chimney rising through the trees. For a second, Belly’s breath caught. It was small and unpolished. But it had a wide porch that faced the lake, windows that caught the light, and a kind of quiet that felt like them.
Jeremiah parked and jumped out first. He circled around to her side with an exaggerated gallantry.
“Mrs. Fisher,” he said, offering his hand with a bow.
She rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Oh come on, you love me for it.” He scooped her up in one movement before she could argue and she squealed, the sound echoing through the woods. She held on to his shoulders as he carried her up the steps and fumbled with the key.
The door creaked open, the smell of cedar rushing to meet them. Jeremiah ducked inside, nearly knocking them both against the doorframe. He almost lost his grip halfway through the threshold.
“Careful!” she gasped, laughing as he steadied himself.
He set her down with a flourish in the middle of the room. Light spilled through the wide windows and dust drifted like confetti. The lake shimmered, endless and still.
Belly wandered around slowly, her hand brushing the back of a wooden chair, a cabinet, the edge of the stone hearth. All was quiet, waiting.
Jere leaned against a doorframe, watching her. “Home for the week,” he said, then quieter; “Home for us.”
***
By the afternoon, the air had turned heavier, cicadas thrumming through the trees. Jeremiah had found the guest book earlier and they were both sprawled on the bed, giggling at the names and messages left behind.
The cabin felt almost too small for their laughter, for the way Jeremiah kept tripping over the rug, for the press of heat that that clung even in the shade.
“Swim?” he suggested after a while, already tugging his shirt over his head.
Belly followed him down to the porch, the lake opening before them. The water shimmered dark and endless, sunlight darting off in shards.
Jeremiah dove in first, blond hair and tanned skin cutting into the water. He surfaced with a shout, shaking water from his face, grinning wide, “Come on, Bells!”
She didn’t hesitate before stepping in, the water cool against the heat of the day, pulling her deeper until she felt weightless. When she surfaced, Jeremiah was already beside her, brushing the wet strands of hair from her face.
“See?” he said, his voice soft. “Perfect.”
They floated together for a while, their laughter echoing in the gentle hush of the lake. Jere splashed her and she shoved him under, both of them with their hair slicked back, eyes shining. He swam closer, warm chest brushing up against her, his hand slipping around her waist under the water. The world felt distant then, with the insects buzzing and the water lapping gentle against skin.
Belly’s fingers curled into his shoulders while they kissed, Jeremiah pulling her closer. In that moment, it was just them, tangled up in water and sunlight, the world forgotten.
By the time they’d trudged back up from the lake, damp and flushed, the air had shifted. Clouds were already gathering low behind the trees, the heavy hum of early autumn just beginning to show.
Jeremiah threw a towel over his shoulders and shook water from his hair. “You hungry?” he asked, eyeing the way Belly’s dress clung to her skin.
“Starving,” she admitted, dropping onto the little sofa.
He rummaged through the cupboards for a few minutes, pulling out pots and pans, a loaf of bread, cheese wrapped in wax paper. “Fine dining, Mrs Fisher,” he said, holding up a can of tomato soup.
Belly laughed with him and watched him move around the kitchen. His hair was still a bit wet, his shirt clung to his back, but he looked so at ease, humming to himself as he stirred the soup. The scent of cedar was replace with butter crackling on a hot pan, cheese melting slowly between thick slices of bread.
When he placed the meal in front of her, the grilled cheese golden and crisp, she took a bite and made a satisfied noise. “Oh my god. This is actually perfect.”
Jeremiah sat next to her, observing like he’d just won something.
“Told you, five-star.”
She reached over and pinched a triangle from his plate, crumbs scattering over their laps. He caught her at the wrist but let her take it, grinning.
They ate like that, leaning close over mismatched plates, the steam curling up from the bowls of soup. Belly glanced at him from under damp lashes and found herself smiling from something deep in her chest. A thought came to her then; they’d always be like this, homemade dinners, wind rumbling outside, and Jeremiah by her side.