It can’t be more than a few seconds, but it leaves me off balance, and when he playfully nudges my nose with his as he pulls away, I have to duck my head and remember to breathe.
These are dangerous waters.
But it’s not real. He’s playing it up for his family, and I can’t let myself fall into the trap of believing this is anything other than an immersive improvisation.
* * *
The view before we land steals my breath. Buildings dot along the coast, weathered but unshakable, as though they sprouted from the very ground, unearthed by the lapping waters.
A car is already waiting for us when we land, and when we arrive at the factory, I find the people, too, are durable, chipped from the stone that surrounds us.
It’s impressive.
The Bradbury name looms large in wrought iron, a stamp on the building, and I dare say, the town. The building stands firm at its center, bearing the marks of a long history. Apparently, it functions as shelter when storms hit.
Makes sense. It’s probably older than the sea.
Most people who pass us know Astrid and Darcy, although it surprises me when they’re greeted like old friends and not corporate overlords. It’s a nice change. Only a few people recognize Lincoln, but it’s always with the same exclamation— something akin to “you’re so grown”— before telling him to send their love to his dad.
I guess this town bears the history of the Reeveses too.
As good as the tour is, what I really want is to get a moment with Lincoln alone. Maybe then he can tell me what the plan is. Should we stage a fight and break up before we fly back?
Wait, bad idea. Who will hold my hand during take-off?
I could always pick a fight after we land—something, something, I never want to see you again— A quick scroll through my old Tinder messages should help me come up with something.
I’ll hate every second, but if it’s what he wants, I’ll do it.
Before I can pull him aside, Darcy links her arm in his and insists on getting some shots of him inside, even as he grumbles that “I don’t work for you. Or Reed.”
She looks to me, but I get the feeling that once Lincoln sets his mind on something, there’s no changing it. There’s a relief in knowing he can’t be moved easily, as steadfast as the building she’s attempting to persuade him into.
But for her sake, I try. “You should go.” Stretching up to my toes, I kiss his cheek. “Come find me after.”
There’s too much to read in his gaze and no chance to ask while his family is here, but he eventually nods.
As Lincoln and Darcy walk away, Astrid waves me onward. “Come on, I’m going to take you over to Octavia’s.”
CHAPTER17
MY SOFT SPOTS (ARE SHOWING)
LINCOLN
“I like her,” Darcy says as she corrals me into position, the heavy presence of Deacon’s name at my back, generations of judgment hanging over me like a guillotine.
It’s putting my teeth on edge.
Darcy must catch it through her viewfinder, because she sighs, but nonetheless takes the shot. Her first camera was a garish block of plastic, barely capable of more than a grainy smudge, but somehow, Darce knew how to turn the blurriest of shots into something meaningful.
She could have any job she wanted. Magazines, advertising, broadcasting. They’ve all tried to poach her. She’s certainly been offered enough to tempt even the most discerning person away from the family business. But if there’s one thing we Reeveses have in common, it’s our stubborn streak.
What Reed has done to earn her loyalty when he’s been so quick to dismiss me, I’ll never know.
She’s assessing the results as she says, “You could have told me, you know. I would have been happy for you.”
“I know.”
