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He straightens. “I just need to find the right one.”
“The right what?” He holds a sand-covered shell out. “Jesus, Dylan, I’m not collecting shells on the beach all day.”
“Just a few more minutes?” he asks.
I give the waves a wide berth. If he’s in a childish mood, he could underestimate the level of pissed off I’d be if he threw me into the icy water.
Not surprisingly, the beach is empty apart from the crazy rock star and his long-suffering girlfriend. I kick at the seaweed and watch Dylan. We could be snuggling. Or in bed. I hope he doesn’t suggest fish and chips next.
“Okay!” Dylan approaches and places cool lips on my forehead. “I think this is the best I can manage.”
I rub my cold nose into his warm neck, enjoying the fact this makes him wince. “Good, I’m bloody freezing.”
“Don’t stress, I’ll warm you up when we get home,” he says in a low voice.
“I was more thinking a trip to a cafe?” I pull Dylan’s black beanie further down his head for emphasis.
Dylan wraps his arm across my shoulders, pulling me into his woollen jacket and kissing my frozen cheek. “Okay, soon.”
We trudge across the sand toward the house and when we get to the front door he puts his hand on my arm, stopping me from going in. “No, wait.”
“I’m losing sensation in my toes, Dylan. Now what?”
Something else followed us to the beach with Dylan today—a relaxed excitement I presumed came from time back in our old Dylan and Sky world. He keeps throwing surreptitious glances and smiles and I’m beginning to suspect he has plans. Please not fish and chips on the beach.
Dylan disappears around the corner and the sound of shells shuffling reaches me. Shells. Of course, he wants to add the one he’s searched for all morning to the childhood treasure. I huff and follow to help him.
Between us, we locate the biscuit tin easily, although the damp sand isn’t pleasant. “You’re in charge of the treasure, here,” says Dylan, kneeling as he passes me his prize. “Don’t break the shell this time.”
I look at the box, embarrassed I told him about breaking the last shell he hid in the box, even though it was thirteen years ago. “Okay.”
The lid snaps open easily and inside sit three shells, symbols of my happy childhood hidden away. About to place the one he gave me into the box, my stomach lurches. There’s a ring in the box, a gold band with a huge diamond set in the middle. In surprise, I drop the box and the ring falls out.
“Shit! Sorry!” I scrabble through the shells, but each one I move sends the ring further down into the pile. I can’t look at Dylan, stunned by what I’ve seen and what I know is coming.
Dylan stops my useless scrabbling, catching my hand and delving into the pile himself. He pulls out the ring and looks to me with both apprehension and the expression I’ve seen on his face time after time when he’s with me. Love. I stare back like an idiot, fighting back the mounting tears.
“Do you remember in June when I said I wish we could stay here forever?” I nod because no words will come. “I know we can’t stay here forever, but I want you to always be my summer Sky.” He opens his hand, the ring looking smaller in his large palm. “Will you marry me?”
The realisation exactly how much this man loves me takes hold of my heart and threatens to push it out of my chest. I can’t speak, so I attempt to smile to indicate I’m happy. The increasingly anxious line between Dylan’s brows prompts me to answer. I’m not sure he hears my ‘yes’, a cross between a gasp and a choke, which realistically could sound like anything.
Dylan curls his hand around mine and kisses my fingers. I choke back a sob and he frowns at me. “You know I hate making you cry. I wouldn’t have done this if I’d known.”
I shake my head and touch his cheek. “I love you, Dylan, and I want us to be forever. Of course, I’ll marry you.”
His stiffened shoulders relax. “Oh, thank fuck for that.” His eyes glint. “Because you know I’m not used to people saying no to me.”
The wind chills the drying tears on my face, but my hot cheeks and the intensity melt any attempt to freeze this moment. I rest my head against Dylan’s, and curl my fingers into the back of his hair. “I thought you were becoming accustomed to me saying no? Because you won’t hear ‘honour and obey’ from me.”
Dylan laughs, seizes my hands in both cheeks and plants a hard kiss on my mouth. “And that, summer Sky, is why I love you.”
Gently, he takes my hand and pulls off my black woollen glove. His eyes shine with the happy, big-kid Dylan look that warmed me to him months ago. “Do I get to put the ring on your finger? Like in the movies?”
I stretch my fingers out, my hand trembling as he pushes the ring onto one.
We never spoke about this, but we're here. Some say fate is written in the stars, and that we’re all made of pieces of the universe. If that’s true, what I have with Dylan makes sense. Our stars exploded long ago, the debris scattering across time. When we met, the pieces pulled together as tiny fragments missing from our hearts and souls found their place. This has to be how the idea of soul mates exists—reconnecting pieces settling into each other and taking on the new world together.
Dylan’s mouth touches mine, dragging me from my thoughts. I feel the connection in his lips, on his fingertips, and the way the space between us doesn’t exist when we’re together. Marrying each other to become one makes no sense, because we already are.
