“You look serious.” Vera sidles up beside me and slides her arm around my waist. “Pre-wedding jitters?”
“I’m always like this before an event we host.” I drape my arm across her shoulder. “I’m a perfectionist, and it’s annoying, because with unpredictable weather on an island, there’s always the potential for disaster.”
Like the potential for disaster in my personal life when I ask her to stay.
“There’s more.” She points to her dress. “This is too casual, right? But it’s the only dress I packed, and I didn’t think I’d need it—”
“You look beautiful.” I brush a kiss against her lips. “But I need to talk to you about something.”
Wariness clouds her eyes, and I realise she’s wearing makeup for the first time since she arrived on the island. The gold eyeshadow dusted across her lids accentuates the amber flecks in her eyes, and the mascara makes them pop.
“None of what I’m about to say makes sense, but I have to say it, regardless.”
“Okay.” She eases away, and I let her, because I need to see her reaction when I drop my bombshell on her. You can’t fake feelings during those initial first few seconds, and I deserve honesty if little else. “Spill.”
“I want you to stay. Here. On Ceto Island.” Like she needs clarification. “There’s so much work that needs to be done so you’ll get paid, but that’s not why I’m asking.” Here goes nothing. “I’m asking because I like you, and I want to explore a relationship with you.”
Her eyes widen and her lips part. She’s stunned—understandably—but she hasn’t recoiled, which I take as a good sign.
“A relationship?” She shakes her head, as if she can’t believe what I said. “Are you insane?”
My heart sinks as I put on a brave face. “No. Insane would be me pretending like what’s happened between you and me is nothing more than a fling. Insane would be ignoring the feelings I’ve developed, the deepest I’ve ever had for a woman, even if it’s only been a few days. And insane would be letting you leave without being honest with you.”
Her expression morphs from shock to sadness, but I don’t let it deter me.
“And I know what you’re going to say. That you’re forty and I’m twenty-six, so the age gap is a major factor in us not being together. And you probably don’t want to hold me back from having kids, so that’s not fair on me. And you don’t want to live on an island, but all those reasons are moot, because our ages are irrelevant when you share the connection we do, I’ve never been interested in having kids, and I only have a few more months on the island before my annual stint is over and I’ll return to Brisbane, where you live too. So, have I answered all your rejection reasons?”
Her lips compress into a resolute line before she says, “Can I speak now?”
“Only if you’re going to say yes.”
“I can’t give you the answer you want, but I will say that your emotional intelligence is way ahead of guys double your age.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“You know you’re spot on with all those reasons we can’t be together?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Vera. I just want to trial a relationship. To see if our intense connection over the last few days is worth fighting for. And if so, I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.”
I see her resistance wavering as logic wars with hope in her expressive eyes.
“I know the way we’ve clicked makes little sense, because I’m rarely impulsive and I get the feeling you aren’t either, which means what we’ve started is out of character but so right.” I grab her hand and place it over my heart. “You feel it too, don’t you? The inexplicable pull between us?”
She takes an eternity to answer, but her fingers splay against my chest, as if branding me hers. “Yeah, I feel it. And you’re right, I’m not impulsive.”
“Yet you stayed yesterday when you were going to leave.”
“And look how that turned out.”
I laugh at her dry response, and the corners of her mouth curve upward.
“I’m not asking for a long-term commitment. Just a few more weeks to see if we’re as compatible as I think we are.” I raise her hand to my mouth and press a kiss into the palm, before curling her fingers over it. “But I’ll warn you. If we’re as good together as I think we are, I want longer with you.”
“How long?”
“It may be forever,” I murmur, inadvertently holding my breath as sheer terror steals across her face. “But I’ll settle for a year or ten.”
I hold open my arms, and when she steps into them, I breathe out a sigh of relief.
