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Doubtful.
“Seriously though. Can you imagine being here in the summertime? Waking up and having breakfast on the patio or swinging in your porch swing as you read a book, the beach in the background? You could literally open your window at night and fall asleep to the sound of the ocean,” I say.
“Is that what you want?” he asks.
I lift a shoulder. “Just thinking out loud.”
Cainan lifts my hand to his mouth, depositing a kiss as if he’s depositing a silent promise. Up ahead a green sign points the way to a public beach, and just before the turnoff is a little cliff above the sea with a metal guardrail and a handful of parking spots. He pulls off, kills the engine, and climbs out of the car.
A moment later, he gets the passenger door and extends his hand. Leading me to the trunk, he lifts me before leaning against the car and settling between my legs.
Cupping my face in his hand, he guides our mouths together.
“What’s this?” I ask, smiling against his lip.
“Been driving for hours,” he says with a sigh. “I just wanted to kiss you.”
I kiss him again. Harder. And I slip my fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck, loving the way his musky scent mixes with the salt water air.
“We’re going to have a little house by the sea someday,” he tells me.
“Oh, yeah?” I lift a brow and chuckle. “You sound really sure about that. How do you know?”
“Trust me,” he says. “I know these things.”
50
Cainan
“Hey.” I rap my knuckles against Paloma’s desktop Tuesday afternoon. She’s done a superior job of pretending like she hasn’t noticed my black eye. Wish I could say the same for Deb in accounting and two of the junior partners in the east hall. “I’m taking the afternoon. You’re welcome to as well.”
“Wait … what?” Her face is twisted, as if she’s trying to comprehend a foreign language.
“My two o’clock cancelled. See if you can reschedule my three. If not, Renato will take her. I’ve got a few things I want to take care of outside the office.”
“Oh … okay.” Her expression is laced in confusion but her tone is upbeat, happy to oblige.
I lock up my office and head out, stopping by a flower stand on the way to grab a bouquet of burgundy daisies wrapped in saffron tissue paper, and when I’m done, I text Brie and tell her to come over for dinner at six.
I can’t remember the last time I cooked a proper meal in my kitchen, but I’m feeling … domestic.
And I’m craving steak au poivre and a quiet night in with my girl—amongst other things.
I’m about to duck into the corner market and grab a few things when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I check the screen on the off-chance it’s Brie—but it isn’t.
My thumb hovers over the ignore button … but since when have I been one to back down like a fucking coward? I don’t know what he wants, but I’m happy to take this opportunity to tell him exactly where we stand.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Hey.” His tone is chipper. Mistake number one. If he thinks he can act like nothing happened, he’s sorely mistaken. “I, uh, just wanted to apologize for last weekend. Things got a little heated. A little out of hand. We, uh, took things too far.”
“We?” I chuff.
“Going to be in town for work later this week. Thought maybe we could grab drinks? Put this past us?”
Idiot.
“I’m going to have to pass, but I appreciate the apology.”
“Oh, yeah? You have plans or something?” His voice is casual, as if he’s playing dumb. But I know damn well he’s fishing for information.
“Hanging out with Brie.”
It’s quiet on the other end. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the silence.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks.
“That’s exactly how it’s going to be.”
I end the call and head into the grocery. By the time I’m checking out, Brie texts back to let me know she’ll be there and she can’t wait.
Strolling home, I’m sure I’m grinning like a lovestruck idiot, but I couldn’t care less. Brie put this smile on my face, and God willing, it’ll remain until my dying day.
51
One Year Later …
Brie
“When do you think he’ll pop the question?” Carly asks. We’re peeling potatoes for Thanksgiving dinner, elbow to elbow over our mother’s kitchen sink.
My thighs are sore from christening our hotel room the second we landed last night—and then re-christening it this morning before heading over. The mere thought of having to be on our best behavior and having to practice restraint in front of my entire family for eight hours was enough to drive us both wild. At home, we’re unencumbered and we can’t keep our hands off one another for more than five second intervals. Today’s going to be a challenge, but we can do this.
