At the end, two wooden chairs faced the water, their backs to the world.
As they walked, the wooden planks beneath their feet echoed faintly in the quiet night. Jaxon glanced over at her.
“Do you remember when you asked me where I was headed?”
Claire smiled. “Yes.”
“I said I was headed to where the tide meets the sand. Well—this is it.”
Claire tilted her head, brows furrowing. “What do you mean this is it?”
They reached the end of the dock.
Jaxon took both of her hands in his. He gently spun her in a slow turn, then pulled her close, his arms sliding around her waist, holding her there—grounded, steady, his eyes locked onto hers.
And then he whispered—
“While at the end of this dock, and only at this time…When the tide is just right, you can see the darkness from the sound. The way the moonlight reflects off the water causes the sand to sparkle like a bed of diamonds. This is my favorite spot. This is where the tide meets the sand.”
Claire’s chest ached.
Not in a bad way.
In the kind of way you feel when someone cracks your soul open with nothing but words.
And then he said it—
“This is how I want to love.”
“I want my love like the tide and the sand. As the tide rises, it brings in new things to make the sand better—more beautiful than it already is. When the tide recedes, it takes with it all things not meant to be there. The love I want is renewed and added to each day. It’s where all things not meant to be get washed away. While the beautiful things remain…and keep growing.”
Claire didn’t speak.
She couldn’t.
No man had ever said something like that to her. Not even close.
She just stared at him—this man with the poetic mouth and the gentle hands, who was standing there telling her the kind of love she’d only dreamed of, as casually and confidently as if he were reading his grocery list.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met.
And suddenly, the words of that waitress floated through her mind again.
He never takes women with him. He always says, “have a good night.”
Yet here she was. At his house. Under his lights. In his favorite place. In his arms.
What makes me different? she thought.
Before she could get lost in it, Jaxon interrupted her spiral.
“Would you like to sit for a while? You really can’t beat this view.”
Claire swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded. “Sure.”
She sank into the chair beside him, still trying to process the weight of what he’d just shared.
