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“I hate for today to end because I’m having a wonderful time with you, but it’s going to be dark soon.” Peter seems down, almost like there's an hourglass on the time we have together.
I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “It’s okay. I’ve decided. We can go out.”
“Oh yeah?” His entire face lights up. “You don’t know how happy that makes me.”
We make our way to his boat. As we get closer, I notice the name painted on the transom. Emerald Eyes. All the blood in my body rushes to my head and I stop in my tracks, staring.
Peter’s a few paces ahead when he realizes I’m not with him and turns to look for me. “Jordan? What’s wrong?”
“Did you…” I point to the stern. “Is that…?”
Peter's caught. And, embarrassed. “Oh, God. Yeah. It’s you.”
Before I can stop, I launch myself at Peter. Surprised, he barely has time to react as I throw my arms around his neck and press my lips against his in an explosion of pent-up passion and longing. A fusion of all the unsaid words and unacknowledged feelings I have for this man.
Peter’s arms wind around my waist, pulling me closer, as if he’s afraid to let me go. His hands slide down the backs of my thighs and he lifts me as our kiss deepens. We're a desperate dance of lips and tongues while the world around us fades into a blur as we lose ourselves in each other.
It’s a moment of reckoning for me. A total surrender to feelings I’ve alternately buried or tried hard to deny.
When we finally break apart, gasping for air, our eyes lock and I see a reflection of my own turmoil and hope. This kiss, impulsive and raw, has changed everything. A turning point, maybe. A second chance. A promise of what our lives could be.
He leans down and rests his forehead against mine. “This is real.”
Our lips meet, more tender this time as he lowers me down to the ground. He takes my hand and leads me to the boat. We don’t say a word as we depart Kingston, but I’m no longer sitting next to him.
No. I need to be closer—I'm on his lap.
Peter nuzzles my ear. “I’ve got to be extra careful on the way home. We’ll be navigating in the dark, which isn’t ideal. Stupid long, winter nights.”
“I’ll get up.” I kiss his forehead. “I hope I haven’t made things weird. Or confusing.”
Peter’s smile nearly jumps off his face. “As long as there’s more where that came from, I’m good.”
“Let me make us another cup of hot chocolate.” I plug the blanket in. “It’s probably gonna get cold.”
He grabs my hand before I go downstairs. “I’m glad you agreed to come with me today.”
“Me too.” I lean over and kiss him before making my way down the steps.
A few minutes later, the cabin air is filled with the comforting aroma of hot chocolate. Grasping the two mugs, a sense of contentment washes over me as the warmth seeps into my fingers. Such a stark contrast to the rollercoaster of emotions I’ve been riding since Peter returned to my life.
I’m about to head back up the ladder when the boat sputters and coasts into an abrupt halt and the engine falls silent. I rush upstairs, the hot chocolate forgotten. My stomach seizes with anxiety when I come upon Peter frantically checking the boat’s controls.
Deliberately staying out of his way, I slip into the passenger seat. “What’s going on?”
“We’re out of fuel. It completely slipped my mind when we left.” Peter is calm, though frustrated.
“It’s my fault. I distracted you.” My heart sinks. “Are we stranded?”
“Not exactly stranded. There’s cell phone coverage. We’re in a safe spot to anchor.” He pulls out his phone, scrolling through something. “I need to check the traffic and marine conditions to make sure we’re not in any shipping or ferry paths.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to gauge the seriousness of our situation. “So, what are our options?”
“We could call for help, but it’s almost dark and it’s New Year’s Day. Response might be slow.” Peter glances at me, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes before resuming studying his phone. “Or, we could anchor for the night. It’s safe, and we have everything we need on board. The batteries are all charged. We’ll have heat and some light. I can call Vessel Assist tomorrow or row the dinghy ashore in the morning. We'll fuel up and still be home in Seattle early morning-ish.”
The skeptical part of me wonders if he planned this to get me alone.
The romantic part doesn’t care.
