He smiles in response.
I look up at him, replaying the discussion I’d had with Carina. “Or is this little escape for you too, Mr.Stay-Out-the-Spotlight?”
A chuckle slips out of him. “I take it you and Carina have been talking about me.”
“You were mentioned, yes. But don’t worry. You won’t be in the article.”
He grabs my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I trust you. And no, this isn’t for me.” He looks down at me as we continue our walk. “Want you to experience more of what you came here for.”
That flutter is back, and I brace myself through it as the Maui night wraps around us, the shore growing louder as we approach. When the beach comes into full view, something inside of me decompresses. I’ve seen this view enough times since I’ve been here, but it keeps getting more and more beautiful. Tonight it feels like it belongs to me and only me. I tip back the rest of my drink and set the glass on a nearby bench made of stone. Slipping out of my heels, I leave them behind and hurry toward the ocean, eager to feel the tide curl around my feet.
Once I get to the shore, it welcomes me as if it’s been waiting with bated breath. I don’t even bother hiking my dress up, the hem darkening, my happy feet dancing and twirling in the sandy earth. My head to the sky, the moonlight washing over my skin. I bask in this moment. The beauty of my surroundings endlessly stretching out around me.
I breathe in.
I exhale.
I let go.
I feel.
I press my eyes closed, and I don’t think. I just live in the moment. I don’t know how long I stand there, but when I finallyturn around, Othello is 10 feet away, hands in his pockets, eyes on me, taking me in, watching me as if I’m something he admires. The smile on his face gets wider when I wave him in, welcoming him to come join me.
“The water is so warm,” I say.
“Is it?”
He steps out of his shoes, heads my way, the sand shifting under his feet. His linen shirt catches the breeze, and the flaps of his half-unbuttoned shirt reveal the solid lines of his muscular frame. This man is too damn sexy. His lean, broad shoulders, those large hands, those heavy-lidded eyes still on me. It’s like he’s in a trance and I’m pulling him in.
The second the water hits, Othello lets out a sharp yelp, shooting me a look that says I’m going to pay for setting him up.
I burst out laughing.
“Oh, you think that’s funny?” he says, already cupping water in his hands.
Before I can move, he splashes me. I squeal, stumbling back as the chilly water hits my skin. We chase each other through the sea, laughing, splashing, living. I don’t make it too far out of Othello’s reach before his hands are on my waist, lifting me clean off the ground, out of the water. A euphoric giggle spills out of me as he spins me in a circle, the night blurring, the stars smearing into soft trails of light. I close my eyes and drink in this moment. Drink in his touch.
When he sets me down, my feet sink into the sand and I am breathless, joy and laughter still radiating out of me.
“I needed that,” I say breathlessly.
“I know,” he says quietly.
There’s a beat of silence before Othello says, “You’re so beautiful, Marley.”
I shy away, suddenly very aware of the moment and what we’re doing and where we are. He brushes the loose curls andlocs from my face with one hand, while the other holds me close to him. Something inside me is yelling, "Run."Head back to the glass house. Make a break for it.
Make a break from what?
Him?
Me?
The feeling that maybe, just maybe, I could be happy with this man. But then I hear my mother’s voice again, clear as glass and just as cutting,“If it feels too good to be true, it usually is.”
And God, doesn’t Othello feel too good?
Too true.
