Inside, Sienna is finishing the last of her packing. I can hear her humming off-key to an early 2000s song. Every now and then, there’s the thud of a suitcase zipper, followed by a creative curse when something won’t fit.
The sounds make my chest ache in the best and worst ways all at once.
I want to bottle them—her off-key humming, the salt air, the golden light—and carry every piece back to the streets of New York with me.
Two weeks ago, I boarded that plane thinking this would be a simple trip: show up for my best friend’s wedding, then fly home to my spreadsheets, quiet routine, and carefully ordered life. Instead, I found the woman who turned every careful plan I had ever made into something brighter, louder, messier, and infinitely better.
I hear her footsteps padding across the floor behind me, and I turn. She steps onto the deck in a simple pink sundress, the hem fluttering in the morning breeze. She looks beautiful. Shealwaysdoes.
“Ready?” she asks, her voice quieter than usual, laced with the same mix of reluctance and excitement I feel.
I cross the deck in two strides, then pull her into my arms, burying my face in her hair. “Not even a little bit,” I murmur against her curls. “But we have a plane to catch.”
She smiles against my chest, her arms wrapping tight around my waist. “Who would’ve thought we’d make it this far without killing each other, huh?”
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I knew the second you opened your mouth you were going to ruin all my plans. I just didn’t know you’d do it so beautifully.”
She pulls back just enough to look up at me. “You’re dangerously romantic, Milo. I love it.”
I brush a stray curl behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on her cheek. “I reserve the right to be as romantic as I want when the woman I love stands before me on our last morning in paradise—especially when it’s in the same place I fell in love with her.”
Her breath catches at the word “love,” even after everything we said on the moonlit beach just two nights ago. It still hits her. It hits me too—every single time.
With a final goodbye to the villa, we make our way to the reception area where Terrance is already waiting. The same driver who picked us up on that chaotic first day stands there grinning like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. His smile is wide as he loads our luggage into the van.
“Ah, Mr. Reyes and Ms. Harlow!” he calls out warmly. “Look at you two now—holding hands and smiling like the sun itself had decided to shine just for you. I knew the moment I sawyou arguing outside the airport that first day. I told my wife, ‘Those two? They’re coming back with a love story of their own.’ Paradise doesn’t make mistakes.”
Sienna laughs as she leans against my side. “You called it from day one? Really?”
Terrance nods, his eyes twinkling. “Paradise has a way of fixing what people think is broken… or giving them what they didn’t even know they needed. Some hearts just recognize each other faster here.”
I shake his hand firmly, gratitude thick in my chest. “You were right about everything. Meeting Sienna was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“I always am,” he winks. “Now, hop in. Your future is waiting. It only gets better from here. Trust me.”
We climb into the back seat together, and Sienna immediately slides close, resting her head on my shoulder as the van pulls away from the resort. Every turn along the winding road feels like saying goodbye to a chapter I never want to end.
My thumb strokes slow, steady circles on the back of her hand. At first, her knee bounces lightly against mine—the familiar jitter surfacing with the emotions of leaving—but it gradually slows and stills under my touch. Even now, on our last day, I love being the one who helps her land.
“You’re doing that thing again,” she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at me.
“What thing?”
“Staring at me.”
“I’m observing,” I reply with a slight smile.
She rolls her eyes. “Observing what, exactly?”
“How beautiful you are.”
She laughs and lightly swats my chest.
The drive passes in a warm blur of quiet conversation—small things like her favorite hidden bookstores in the city and myfavorite quiet café, and bigger ones too. How we’ll navigate life back in New York. How we’ll make time for each other. How we’ll keep choosing one another, even when things get hard… even when she feels like running away.
Every word feels like laying down the first solid brick in something real, something permanent, something we’re choosing together.
When we finally pull up to the airport, Terrance helps unload our luggage and pulls us both into a warm hug. “You come back soon,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder with a grin. “For the wedding. What better way to celebrate than on the same island where you fell in love?”
