what now? | outerbanks

• fifty-three •

Sofia

    I lie in bed, wrapped in covers as I watch Rafe with observing eyes. He's sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, scrolling through something on his phone with sharp, focused eyes. I watch him silently, with my legs tucked under me and a book resting open in my lap, though I haven't turned a page in minutes.
    He exhales sharply, setting his phone down. "It's worse than I thought."
    He's been stressed all week about this bill to rezone the Cut. I don't really know how any of it works, and I never do when it comes to his work, but I try my best to understand.
    "How bad?" I ask, straightening my shoulders.
    Rafe shifts, looking at me, and despite the sharp lines of frustration in his expression, his hand finds my ankle, his thumb brushing in absentminded circles. "I ran into a guy I know—Briggs. He does work for some of the developers. He said it's not just talk anymore—they've already submitted paperwork to rezone part of the Cut, including the Surf Shop's lot."
    My heart stutters. "Already submitted?"
    Rafe nods grimly. "If it goes through, the lease will skyrocket. They'll be able to afford it, but not forever."
    "How long do we have?" I ask, setting my book aside and scooting closer to Rafe on the edge of the bed.
    "Couple weeks before the final decision." I stare at him, and for a moment, silence settles between us, thick with thought. I can see the gears turning in his head, the way he's already cycling through solutions, planning moves like pieces on a chessboard. It's one of the things I love most about him—when he cares, he goes all in. I also know, however, that sometimes he can act before he thinks it through enough.
    "We can figure this out. Together." I place a hand on his knee and lean my head on his shoulder. His expression softens for a beat before the frustration settles back in.
    "I don't want them dealing with this when they get home. Sarah doesn't need any more stress, and they just spent a week wearing themselves out to nothing. They deserve to come back without this bullshit waiting for them."
    I smile slightly, listening to him talk so fondly of the Pogues. I know he doesn't always like them—and he usually doesn't—but he's come a long way in his appreciation for them.
"So," I press carefully, "what's the plan?"
He shifts, leaning back against his hands and staring into me. "First step? I need to get in touch with Miller, the guy in charge. Gotta see if there's any way to shut it down before it gets further."
Sofia frowns. "And if there isn't?"
Rafe exhales, rubbing his jaw. "Not a choice. I'm getting this done one way or another."
"Baby," I hum, already worried about what he means. He sits up and cups my face in his hands, brushing a scarred thumb over my cheek.
"Don't worry, Sof. It's gonna be fine," he reassures me. I place my hands on top of his, and he pulls them down to his mouth, kissing where my engagement ring sits.
"Are you excited?" My voice is small and sheepish.
"Excited for what? To marry you?" I nod, my eyes big and bright. "Over the moon."
I wait some time before I speak again, kissing him some and staring into his paralyzing eyes. Then, when I feel enough time has passed, I ask him, "Do you think she'd like me?"
I can tell he's confused for a second, the way his brows furrow and his head cocks to the side, but then he understands, and his eyes soften. "She'd love you."
    "I wish I could meet her."
    "You remind me of her sometimes, you know?" He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. "The way you smell, the way you hum while you cook—it's just like her."
    "I bet Sarah does too," I add with a soft smile.
    "God, she looks just like her. It's like a mirror, honestly." I try to imagine what she'd look like. An older, more lived-in version of Sarah with that classic Cameron blonde and the most honey eyes known to man.
    "And now she's going to be a mom herself," I say. "How do you feel about it all?"
    "It's definitely weird, but I know she's going to be great. She's going to be more like Mom than ever." He pulls us back so that we're leaning against the headboard and tangles our legs together, kissing the top of my head. "I can't wait."
    We sit there for a moment, heat passing between bodies, soft, sleepy breaths escaping lips. Then I giggle, whispering, "Uncle Rafe."
    He slides a hand down his face as he chuckles. "Ugh. You're making me feel old."
I side down so my head rests on my pillow and wrap my arms around Rafe's waist. He pulls me in close, and it's not long before he soothes me to sleep.
    Things aren't perfect—by any means—but at least for tonight, I'll pretend like they are.