Page 84 of The Taste of Deceit

She nods.

“Really good.”

By the time we’re ready to order, neither of us spends more than another minute looking at the menu.

“I’ll have the snapper,” Sarah says as she hands hers back to the waiter.

“The ribeye,” I add.

He nods once before disappearing toward the kitchen.

For a while, we don’t say much, and neither of us feels the need to. The breeze moves easily through the open terrace, candlelight begins to replace the fading daylight, and somewhere farther down the beach, live music carries across the water without ever becoming loud enough to interrupt the quiet between us.

Sarah reaches across the table and slips her hand into mine.

“We needed this.”

I turn my hand over until our fingers are intertwined.

“Yeah.”

She traces her thumb across my knuckles while she watches the ocean again.

“I didn’t realize how tired I was until we got here.”

“You don’t have to think about anything for the next two weeks.”

Her eyes meet mine.

“I think that’s my favorite part.”

Dinner arrives a few minutes later, and the conversation drifts from one subject to another while we eat, never settling anywhere for very long because neither of us came here to solve problems or make plans. We talk about spending tomorrow on the beach, about whether we’ll stay out late enough to watch the stars from the pool, and about nothing important at all, which somehow makes the evening feel exactly the way it should.

At one point, Sarah reaches across the table and steals a bite of my steak before I can say anything, and I simply slide the plate a little closer to the middle.

She looks up.

“You weren’t finished.”

“I know.”

She cuts another piece without another word.

By the time dessert is cleared away, the terrace has emptied enough that the ocean seems louder than the conversations around us, and neither of us makes any move to leave until the waiter returns with the check.

When we finally stand, Sarah slips her hand into mine, and we leave the restaurant at an unhurried pace, following the path back toward our villa while the waves break against the shore beside us and the lights scattered across the resort reflect softly off the water.

By the time we make it back to the villa, the only sound waiting for us is the ocean beyond the patio doors.

Sarah slips out of her sandals before wandering into the bedroom, and the second she reaches the bed, she lets herself fall backward onto the comforter with a satisfied sigh.

“Oh my God.”

I glance over as I set my watch on the nightstand.

“That comfortable?”

She nods, her eyes still on the ceiling.