Page 31 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

I cling to that like a lifeline.

“You realize,” he says quietly, “we’ve done a full day’s work at having fun.”

I smile. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Maybe we’ve set a new standard.” He leans in for a kiss.

When we fall into step again, I let my worries go and allow myself to revel in our time together. The tide creeps up the beach, cool against our ankles, then slips away. Every few minutes, the waves catch tiny blue glitters of light.

“Did you see those lights? What is that?” I ask.

“It’s called bioluminescence. It happens when the water’s stirred up. Microscopic organisms emit a glowing blue light. It’s their natural defense, to scare off predators.”

“If I were a predator, it wouldn’t scare me away. It’s beautiful.”

“So are you,” he says, and kisses my cheek.

I should be used to his compliments by now. He’s given me more in twenty-four hours than I’ve ever gotten from anyone. But I’m not used to them, and I’m glad, because each one feels like a gift. I tuck this one away with all the others to hold me over after we go back to our real lives.

We walk so far down the beach, I can see the lights of the town before heading back toward the house. In the silence between conversations, the guilt piles up. Seth deserves honesty, but he also deserves a little peace. I know how hard he works, and I don’t want to ruin this weekend for him, either. I decide to tell him the truth after the weekend, and whatever he decides, I know I’ll deserve it.

When we reach the lounger at the foot of the hill below his house, we drop our sandals beside it and climb on. I have never felt this in sync with anyone. We stretch out side by side, our shoulders touching, and Seth pulls out his phone.

“Are you sure I’m not keeping you from work?” I ask.

“You’re definitely keeping me from work,” he says with a sly grin as he taps his phone screen. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way.” The cover of the pergola rolls back, giving us a glorious view of the clear sky and bright stars.

“Wow, that’s fancy,” I say.

“Just useful,” he says humbly, and pockets his phone.

As he settles beside me, he slides his arm around me, gathering me closer. I’ve never been with a man who was so affectionate. It’s kind of addicting with him, like everything else is. I rest my head on his shoulder and say, “What is it about the sky that makes anything seem possible?”

“When we were little, we’d all lie in the grass staring up at the stars, and Victory and my mom would always wish on them.”

“You didn’t?”

“I can’t really remember, but if I did, it wasn’t often.”

I turn on my side, resting my hand on his chest. “I’d imagine you were too busy thinking about how to reach them.”

He smiles. “Probably. My grandfather used to say that stars don’t make wishes possible. They remind us that we’re part of something bigger, and that makes us try harder to achieve whatever it is that feels impossible at that moment.”

“He sounds very wise.”

“He is. When we were kids, he and my dad taught us how to navigate by the stars. Flynn was obsessed with it, and it’s served him well. He spent years living off the grid. He can find his way anywhere just by looking up.”

“That’s so far out of the realm of what I know, I can’t imagine having those skills.”

“You could learn how if you wanted to. It’s about learning to trust what’s constant. The stars don’t lie.”

Though spoken softly, his words rustle my guilt. The stars might not lie, but I did, and being here, wrapped up in him, feels like a sin even the night can see.

He shifts onto his side, sliding his arm beneath my cheek, and looks at me for a long, quiet moment. Just long enough to tuck that sin away. “What about you, sweets? Did you wish on stars when you were a little girl camping in the woods?”

A pang of longing washes through me, and for some reason, I admit one of the things I miss most. “My mother and I used to. I guess it’s a mother-daughter thing,” I say, trying to make light of it.

His gaze turns thoughtful, and he puts his other arm around me, pulling me closer. “Did you continue wishing on stars after she left?”