“Adorable,” he repeats. Then he takes my hand. Laces our fingers together. “Come on. Let’s go be symmetrical and adorable for your family.”
His palm is cool and dry. Mine is sweating in the heat. I go to make a joke about his ability to avoid perspiration, but Catherine spots us before I can.
Her eyes track from our joined hands up to Julian’s face, and I see her expression shift.
“Poppy,” she says. “Julian. How lovely. We were just discussing the wedding timeline.”
“Sounds riveting,” I say.
Behind us, I hear Serenity’s voice: “Okay, one more. This time look at me like I’m your whole world.”
I don’t turn around. But I feel Julian’s fingers tighten on mine.
“So you two, how long has this been going on?” My mom asks as she motions back and forth between us.
“Four months,” I say—just like we rehearsed. “He was annoyingly persistent.”
“You were worth persisting for.”
“See? Annoying.”
Julian places his hand on my lower back. The touch is light. Deliberate. Designed to look casual.
It doesn’t feel casual.
“You guys need to get out into the water,” Vi pops up out of nowhere, bubbling with way too much energy this early in the morning. “It’s so perfect, Pops!”
“I need to film first,” I say. “Content waits for no woman.”
I pull Julian toward the water’s edge, away from the group. Frame the shot—him standing with waves breaking around his ankles, the Atlantic stretching behind him in shades of blue.
“Look at me,” I call out.
He does. His expression is unguarded. Open.
I take the photo. Then another. Then three more because I can’t stop. His body is absolutely amazing.
“Could you give me one where you’re coming out of the water?”
He starts to walk toward me. I stop him.
“Sorry, Julian. I mean a candid one where you’re coming out of the water after a swim.”
“Oh...” he stops. “Yes, that makes more sense. I’d love to.”
Julian runs—yes, runs—out into the ocean and dives in. I nearly forget to snap shots as I get lost in his elegance. He made it look so easy, and somehow sexy.
Then time seems to slow down, like in the movies, as comes out of the water and tosses his wet hair backward. Luckily, holding down the button of my camera app causes a burst mode; otherwise, I don’t think I could have captured it—that unadulterated moment of beauty.
“Got it?” he asks, snapping me out of my daze.
“Uh, yeah. Got it.”
He walks back to me. Water drips from his hair. I expect his skin to be cool from the ocean, but when he rests his hand on my waist, he’s the same temperature as before. As always. Like the water didn’t touch him.
“Your turn,” he says.
“My turn?”
