“Walk beaches?”
She nodded. “Every summer vacation. She called it decompression.”
“Smart woman.”
“Very.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “She’s been texting every day.”
“Checking on you?”
“Praying for me.”
“Same thing.”
Margot laughed. “Fair point.”
The sound surprised her. She couldn’t remember the last time laughter had come this easily.
They continued down the shoreline. The beach narrowed. Their shoulders brushed once. Then again.
Neither moved away.
The contact lasted only a second each time.
Still, she noticed.
Every time.
She stopped walking.
The ocean stretched endlessly in front of them. Blue sky. Bright sun. The kind of summer day people put on postcards.
He stopped too. “What?”
Margot looked out at the water. A gull wheeled overhead. Farther down the beach a wave collapsed into white foam.
She drew a breath. Then let it go. “There was something I was going to tell you.”
His expression shifted. Not much. Just enough. “Yes?”
Her heart gave an irritating little stumble.
The truth sat right there.
Close enough to touch.
Closer than it had ever been.
She looked at him. At the man who’d spent two weeks helping her carry a problem that wasn’t his. The man who’d met her frustration with patience.
Her panic with steadiness.
Her worst day with kindness.
And she knew exactly when she wanted to say it.
Not here.
Not before they knew.
