Justin leaned back in his chair. For the first time in weeks, the world felt still. Centered. Because she was somewhere in it.
Life was always go, go, go. There was little downtime for him. Flights, meetings, sets, interviews. A constant blur of motion and noise. He rarely sat still, never mind doing nothing.
Yet here he was, on a warm, sun-drenched patio mere days before Christmas, waiting for breakfast and thinking about a woman who’d upended his world with a single word: okay.
He had never married. Never even come close. The women who drifted through his life were beautiful, successful, confident. None of them had made him want to stay.
Until Suzette.
There was something about her that reached straight past the surface. Past fame, ego, the endless grind, and spoke to the quiet, hidden part of him he rarely acknowledged. When he looked at her, the constant noise in his head seemed to dim, the static of his life fading into something that almost felt like peace.
He sat forward and speared a slice of mango, the golden flesh melting on his tongue — sweet, sun-warmed, and impossibly fresh. He followed it with a handful of berries, tart and bursting with juice, then a bite of juicy watermelon. The muesli was crisp, rich with toasted oats and roasted nuts, the honey and yogurt gluing everything together in a perfect balance of crunch and cream.
Around him, life moved at a lazy coastal rhythm … the caw of seagulls overhead, the rhythmic hush of waves against the rocks, the softclinkof silverware from nearby tables. A salt-tinged breeze lifted the edge of the napkin and cooled the warmth of the December sun on his arms.
And in that quiet bloom of peace, Justin knew without a shred of doubt that this — this place, this woman, this fleeting chance — was exactly where he needed to be.
7
Justin stood on the spacious balcony, hands braced against the wooden railing, not watching the ocean but the stretch of darkening sand below. The house sat at the far curve of the bay, giving him an unobstructed view of the beach — a sweep of simmering sand fading into the deepening indigo of the horizon, edged with whitewashed houses and low walls that reminded him a bit of Greece.
She was late.
A quiet, unwelcome tightness coiled in his chest. She was still coming, wasn’t she? Surely she would’ve had the decency to let him know if she’d decided not to.
He hadn’t seen her since yesterday morning. Not even a glimpse.
How was that even possible in a place this small?
Was she avoiding him?
What he did know was that her car was gone when he’d jogged past the back of the hotel at five a.m. It had jolted him to realize Suzette’s bridge tournament had stretched to an all-nighter. He’d found himself wondering where she’d slept.
And whether she’d slept alone.
Maybe she had a long-standing partner.
But somehow he doubted she was the kind of woman who climbed into another man’s bed if she did.
She hadn’t been at breakfast either. And the staff had been tight-lipped when he’d asked after her.Not availablecould mean a dozen things.
He checked his watch again. Quarter to eight. Light was fading fast. The hotel was only a hundred meters away; her walk wouldn’t take long. Still, the thought of her walking alone in the dusk stirred something restless in his chest. Maybe he should go—
And then he saw her.
Relief flooded him so fast and so hard it left him momentarily unsteady.
She’d stopped at the edge of the sand in front of the hotel, bending to slip off her shoes, the late light catching in her hair as she straightened. Instead of heading straight toward him, she drifted to the water’s edge. She stood there, motionless, her gaze fixed on the sea.
Even from this distance, he couldfeelher hesitation — the push and pull between longing and reason, between what was safe and what her heart clearly wanted.
He understood it all too well.
Their worlds couldn’t have been more different — his, a blur of reality and fake; hers, rooted and real. Yet there had to be a bridge somewhere between them, because now that he’d found her, the idea of not having her in his life was unthinkable. Just knowing she was nearby had calmed him in ways he hadn’t expected. Earlier, he’d actually sat down, hauled out a puzzle from a dusty shelf, and lost himself in the quiet rhythm of fitting the pieces together.A puzzle,for God’s sake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something so simple.
Down on the beach, Suzette lifted her head, face turned to the sky as the sun drifted lower. Her layered skirt billowed in the soft breeze, and a pale pashmina clung to her shoulders. Her hair, pinned up, caught the light and gleamed bronze. Sandals dangled from one hand, and a long, narrow bag from the other. A tall, willowy woman, haloed by sunset, framed by the shimmer of the ocean.
Almost ethereal.
