Sabin rises from his seat. “I’ll do all the grunt work, kids.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” I move to lift the bowl of shells in front of me.
Sabin snatches it away. “Relax, B. I got this.”
Chris’s arm goes over my shoulder. “Does this mean I get a minute alone with you?” He leans over and lightly kisses my neck.
“Apparently.” I sigh with pleasure when his tongue touches my skin, and he growls.
“Dance with me,” he whispers.
“What?”
Chris stands and pulls me up before walking us toward the French doors that lead out to the deck. I barely noticed the music earlier with all the dinner banter, but now, I hear it.
He slips one hand around my waist and takes my hand in his free one, lifting it up. Then, he starts to slowly rock us. It takes a full song for us to turn in a complete circle. The sound of the music and the feel of him against me are intoxicating, and it makes it hard for me to pay attention to much else. He’s as mesmerizing as the day I met him.
His cheek goes against mine. “Do you remember this song?”
“Of course.”
It was on the first playlist that Chris ever made me, the one that helped me run through the pain. I know every second of this song, every layer of its sound.
“We’ve loved each other forever,” he says softly.
“On the day I was on the dock and you were on the shore, I fell in love with you. I didn’t know it, but I did.”
“Before that.” He tightens his fingers around my side. “Forever.”
I don’t care that it’s not possible, that what he’s saying doesn’t make logical sense, or that it doesn’t sound like him. Christopher Shepherd is not a dreamer, not prone to magical thinking. But he is, I’m learning, changing. He’s believing and hoping, and the edges of his black-and-white world are blurring.
“Forever,” I agree. I say this not to feed his romantic side, but because I know it to be true.
The sunset casts fierce orange and pink light into the room, and I lean against Chris while we dance. Slowly, we keep turning until I can no longer see the sparkle of the ocean or the tiers of color in the sky.
Now, I see Sabin, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, with a dishcloth in one hand and a glass in the other.
I smile at him, and he smiles back—or I think he does. Maybe it’s a sad smile. Maybe it’s just the way the setting sun hits his face. I lock my eyes on his and try to figure out what he’s thinking, but I can’t. So, I shift my gaze, but in my peripheral vision, I can see that he’s still watching Chris and me.
Something is brewing with Sabin, but I don’t know what it is.
Chris, Sabin, and I finish the dishes, and I go upstairs to check on the others. I’m about to take a step that I know will creak when I hear James’s voice.
“I miss you, Estelle. I care about you so much.”
“James, I’m impossible. You know that. I’m fucking crazy and hopeless.” Her words say one thing, but the lack of conviction tells me that James has worn her down.
“You’re wonderfully crazy, and you give me nothing but hope.”
I smile. My brother’s a charmer.
“Stay with me tonight,” he continues.
“I can’t. I’m not ready. I told myself—”
“Just to sleep. Please stay with me.”
When he pauses, I try to figure out how to go back down the stairs without them hearing me.
