Page 112 of First in Line

From up here, we can’t hear the low humming of the engine, slowly bringing us closer to Barcelona. But we’ve made quite some way since leaving Gruissan, and we’re far enough from the coastline to have next to no light pollution. Which means the stars above us are spectacular.

We observe them in silence, as close as we can be in the weightless comfort of the warm water.

“I know this isn’t the same as the trip I had in mind for us. But I hope you still had a good time,” I say softly.

“Yeah, it was nice.”

Holding her chin, I force her face to the side so she’ll look at me. “The truth, Evie. Always.”

“I’m not lying. It was nice.”

“But?”

She pries her chin out of my hold to watch the stars again. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful.”

“You won’t. Go on, princess.”

“I don’t… I don’t really feel comfortable with all this. And with these people. I’ve worked hard my entire life. I started at fifteen and haven’t stopped since. And I’m doing okay now, but it was a struggle for most of it. So, being around people like Eliza, who buy a perfect stranger ten thousand dollars’ worth of shawls and scarves—yes, I googled it. It’s… obscene. This whole boat is. Being served by people all the time. The private chef. The helicopter ride to Narbonne… When Janine told that story about sending her personal shopper from LA to Milan in their private jet just to get her favorite shade of lipstick, I swear I almost laughed. I genuinely thought she was joking. They all might as well come from Mars because their reality is nowhere near mine.”

“But it’s close to mine,” I can’t help but say.

“It didn’t use to be. You didn’t grow up quite as poor as I did, but ten years ago, you would have seen how absurd all of this is.”

As discreetly as I can, I try to push the flat velvet box she hasn’t noticed yet under the towels. This wasn’t a good idea. It’ll only remind her of how much I’ve changed, how I’m not the boy she used to love anymore.

My stirring attracts her attention, and my plan fails when she turns and sees what I’m doing.

“What’s that?” she wonders.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” She tilts to the side and grabs it, then returns against me. For a moment, her eyes scan the “Chaumet” embroidered in white on the dark blue box.

“It’s your birthday gift,” I confess after a brief sigh.

She twists around to meet my eyes. “You got me a gift?”

“Of course.”

Her delicate hand trembles slightly as she opens the box, revealing the piece within. I saw it in Monaco and knew I had to get it for her. It’s elegant, almost understated, and if memory serves right, exactly her taste in jewelry. The necklace seems modest despite the fifteen carats of high-quality diamonds embedded in white gold.

For a while, her attention remains locked on the offering, taking it all in. When she looks at me again, her face is veiled with confusion and doubt.

“Jackson, it’s—it’s too much.”

I chuckle at her predictability. “It’s not.”

She’s about to protest again, but I don’t let her. I take the necklace out of its box and unclasp it. When I move to put it around her neck, she not only allows me, she even leans forward to help.

Once it’s fastened, I can’t hold back from pressing a kiss on the curve between her neck and shoulder.

Still uncertain, her hesitant fingers graze the necklace.

“I told you I’d buy you a whole ‘fountain’ of diamonds one day, didn’t I?”

The reminder makes her smile, but she quickly frowns again. “Jax, I really,reallyappreciate the gift. But I don’t feel comfortable keeping it.”

“Why?”