Page 64 of Chasing Clouds

“I am.” I reach over and lay my hand on his leg.

“Are you happy?” he asks me, his vulnerability sneaking out just a tiny bit.

“Happier than I’ve ever been.” My eyes lock onto his and they don’t waver. I want him to see how I feel, and what he’s given me—all of it.

Slowly, he smiles, and the last piece of my heart begs to go to him. I gladly give it over.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk.” Standing up, he brushes the sand off his palms then holds out a hand to help me up. Sliding my fingers into his, I squeeze, wishing I never had to let go.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask. His expression is adoring, but also filled with mischief.

“Because you’re so tiny and cute, sometimes I want to manhandle you.”

“Manhandle me? What does that mean?” I ask, brushing the sand off of me.

Bending over, he grabs my arm with one hand while the other slides around my legs, and the next thing I know, I’m thrown over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Reid! Put me down!” I laugh, and the seagulls near us scurry away.

He starts jogging and laughs. “You’re so light. I should have been using you for my workouts these last few weeks—but then again, maybe not. My exercises would have shifted to a different kind.” He slaps me on the butt then swings me around so I’m in front of him and my legs are wrapped around his waist. “I want you to know I had a really good time here with you. Every minute exceeded what I could have ever imagined. No regrets.”

His thoughtful words ease a little of the guilty tension in my chest. He did have a good time; I know he did—we both did.

“No regrets.” I echo his words and lean in to hug him. He hugs me back. It’s the best hug I’ve ever had.

“One more picture?” he murmurs next to my ear.

“Yes.” I smile at him as I wiggle out of his hold and drop down. I love that he’s taken so many photos of us.

Pulling out his phone, he turns us so our backs are to the water and he can get us in the frame along with the sunset. Standing up on my tiptoes, I get as close to him as I can. The scruff on his cheek brushes my face as he drops down to be closer. We smile, he takes the photo, and I think life can’t get much better than this.

WE KNEW THIS day was coming—it just got here a lot faster than I was expecting.

We’re a couple weeks shy of the agreed upon two months together, but heading back to Savannah now is not an unreasonable move. After all, we went on a honeymoon, and now it’s over. Clearly, she has to get back to her life and I have to get back to mine, and if we are being watched, it is what it is.

The drive up from Florida is mostly quiet. Repeatedly she mentioned just catching a flight home, but I insisted on driving her. That is something a new husband would do—and, well, something a decent human being would do, too. There is no way I’m not returning her to her doorstep, pretty much exactly where I found her.

Looking over at Camille, my heart squeezes in my chest. Her feet are propped up on the dashboard and she’s flipping through the photos of our time together on my phone. I had to have all those pictures. I don’t know why—I’m not that sentimental of a guy—but I couldn’t get enough of them, her, or us. A few I sent to my mother, which made her happy, and then a few we posted on our social media accounts. That’s what a real couple does, right?

A real couple . . . my mind trips over this, because we may have started out strangers, but too much has happened for us not to be a real couple, at least not now. I’ve never felt this way for another person. Somehow, she quickly became someone who means more to me than anyone else, and maybe that’s the difference. She was never some girl I was just going to hook up with; she’s always been so much more. Yes, the chemistry between us is off the charts, but I wasn’t looking to make that the only thing between us, and because of that, we became friends.

“I think we should send this one to Drew and Beau and caption it Matt’s new love.” She grins as she shows me the picture of little Matt leaping into the air to catch a football.

Turns out, Drew and Beau, Camille’s friends from New York, grew up across the street from Ali’s house. She moved in, met Drew, and the rest is history. The boy we saw glaring at us the night we arrived is their younger brother. There are three of them, the Hale brothers. He must be around fourteen. I remember when Nate was that age. Hormones, attitude, and in general, he just wanted to be older than he was. This kid wasn’t that different. Once we introduced ourselves, he came over a bit here and there, mainly to hang out with me and toss the ball around.

“You know them better than I do. If you think it’s funny, send it.”

Drew swims and is headed to the Olympics, Beau plays tennis, and this kid Matt wants nothing to do with either of those things. I get it, though; Nate always wanted his own thing, which is why he gravitated toward tennis.

“Okay, I just airdropped all these photos to my phone.” She smiles at me and lays my phone on her leg.

“What’s your favorite thing we did?” I ask as light blues music plays in the background.

“Oh, that’s a hard one. I don’t think I can pick just one.” She frowns and traces the edge of my phone with her finger. I don’t know why, but my insides are reacting to this. It feels like she’s touching me, but she’s not. It’s a stupid electronic device. I’m losing my mind.

I laugh to myself and at her, eyeing her smugly. “Did you just say you aren’t choosing? No this or that?”

She grins back. “I guess I did. You’re rubbing off on me.”