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"Well, you're right here and I’ve been able to resist so far." I wrap my arm around her waist and bring her into me again and kiss her on the lips softly. She tastes like strawberries. "I find it very hard to keep my hands and my lips off of you."
"What are we doing?" she says. "This is crazy."
"What's crazy? That we’re here? Or that I want to make love to you again. Before you even knew who I was, you slept with me."
"Yeah, because it had been a really crazy week and I was stressed out and-"
"You're telling me you slept with me to relieve stress?"
"No," she says, rolling her eyes. "Obviously, I thought you were cute."
"How cute?" I ask her.
"Kind of cute."
"Just kind of cute?"
"Okay. I thought you were devastatingly handsome. Does that make you feel good?"
I grin and laugh. Her words make me feel warm inside, like a ray of sunshine has lit up my soul. "Well, I'm glad to hear that because I thought you looked absolutely beautiful."
"No, you didn't. I didn't look all that. I was wearing a shirt and jeans and-"
"You looked absolutely gorgeous to me," I say truthfully. "You may not have been in a tight dress, and you may not have had a face full of makeup, but as soon as I saw you, I was drawn to you."
"You're just saying that," she says, but I can tell from the small smile and blush on her face that she's happy by my words.
"I would never just say anything," I say. "Especially not something like that." I rub my fingers together and grab my phone before holding it in front of me. She looks at me in confusion and I tickle her to get her to laugh. When the smile crosses her face, I take two photos.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted a photo of this moment and day.” I open the camera app to look at the photos and show her. “I wanted a memento to look back at.” I stare at her wide happy smile on my phone. The way her brown eyes are crinkled at the corners, the way the dimples in her cheeks look so prominent. The way we look like we’re made for each other. “I want to look back at this moment in ten or twenty years and remember us as we are now.”
“You do?” She sounds uncertain as to the voracity of my comments, but I’ve never been more honest about anything in my life.
“I don’t have many documented moments. Not really. There are five photos of me as a baby. One at my high school graduation and then several from college and my MBA. But that’s when I met Ethan.”
“Your parents didn’t take photos?”
“Not of me.” I shrug nonchalantly. “I didn’t care much, but recently, I’ve wondered what it would be like to look back at images from the past.”
“That’s why you took the photo? To ensure you remember me?”
“I’ll never forget you, Zara Hathaway. I don’t need a photo for that.”
“So what? You’ll just look at it before you go to bed?” She teases me and my heart flutters because the very thought of that excites me.
“I’d rather have you in bed next to me? In the Hamptons. If you say yes.”
"Fine," she says as she sighs and nods. "So when are we going?"
"I think we'll most probably leave this weekend if that's okay."
"I mean, I don't know. I have Luke and Charlotte and-"
"When is your sister meant to be back?" There’s a hint of judgment in my tone and I hope she can’t tell. I don’t want her to think I’m judging her family as I know how sensitive things related to family can be. But I’m not impressed by what I’ve heard about her sister thus far. It seems to me that Elise is using Zara, but it’s not my place to say much as I suddenly don’t feel like I’ve treated her much better.
"I don't know," she shakes her head. "Like I said, she met a guy at the play and they're doing heaven knows what, heaven knows where."
