Noah kisses that tender spot underneath my ear. “How about over an early dinner?”
I only hum in response, my eyes fluttering close as he lingers. He chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
As I pull away from him, our intertwined hands the last to break apart, I whisper words I had no intention of saying until they were falling off my lips. “Yes. Always yes.”
***
Two more days of heaven.
Noah massages my feet as we soak in our swimsuits inside the oversized jet bathtub overlooking the ocean. I play with the rose-smelling bubbles as the salty evening air encloses around us while I drone on about the past.
Noah gave me every morsel of information about his family that I hungered for over our romantic candlelit dinner at one of the fancier restaurants that serve Mediterranean classics. My favorite thing was when he spoke so gently and lovingly about his grandmother, who is, according to Noah, the scariest and sweetest woman to ever grace this planet. After dinner, we walked back to the bungalow as he asked question after question about my life and family.
The interrogation is continuing.
“When did you know you wanted to try and write a book?”
I pop a bubble and shrug. “I really don’t know. I’ve always loved stories whether they were told or written or shown. It’s why I majored in English while getting my degree in secondary education. I thought it’d be the perfect job for a woman who’s obsessed with story.”
“But you’re discontent.”
“Yeah, I am.” I release a long sigh before sinking further into the hot water. “I want to tell my own stories now. Not just teach high schoolers about other people’s.”
“I could help you with that, you know,” Noah offers with a playful grin on his handsome face. I admire all the laugh lines, knowing he has lived a wholesome, happy life. “I’m published and all.”
I splash him. “I have a hard time accepting help or handouts. I want to do it myself, you know?”
“Sounds reasonable.” Noah’s long leg shifts against mine, and I know he must be uncomfortable in this bathtub with me. It’s oversized on my end but not for his massive frame. “Would you consider joining a writer’s group I’m in?”
“Maybe. Tell me about it.”
He sits up taller. “We call ourselves the Southern Writers Association. It consists of three guys and two women. We could use a third female to balance us out.”
“Hm. I could consider it. But that would mean I’ll see you again once we leave the island.” Sufficiently flustered over the thought ofafter Bora Borawith him, I start to stand. “Want to go cool off in the ocean?” I suggest, my voice rocky. He nods, and we get out and take a few steps onto the deck.
Before we jump in, Noah’s face grows serious and he says, “Esme, you have to realize you’re worthy of an earth-shattering love. And more than that, if you want to write a novel, gowrite the best novel you can write.” He kisses me wildly and breathlessly, then he whispers, “I have every intention of sticking on your side like a starfish for the rest of my life,” before shoving me into the ocean under the glittering stars.
He jumps in after me, and I latch onto his back, making him keep us both afloat while I trail salty kisses across his shoulder, up his neck, and behind his ear. He growls, swimming us toward the ladder to get back onto the deck. But he doesn’t climb up. Instead, he grips the ladder with one hand while pulling me to his front with the other. I wrap my legs around his waist as my arms drape around his neck, effectively clinging onto him like a barnacle.
“Esme.” My name is a plea on his lips. His hazel eyes sparkle to the beat of my heart, and the thought that I have to leave him in the span of two days is too much to bear. I shove the reminder far away as I draw his mouth to mine.
It’s a kiss full of stardust and midnight colors. A kiss that echoes through time and imprints upon one’s soul.
His fingers dig into my back as his lips move achingly slow against mine, savoring and tasting and exploring. He hazily murmurs my name, pulling away from my lips just to rest his forehead against mine, salt water from his drenched curls dripping down my face. “Esme, I love your soul. I love your desire for passion. I love how you want to please your family. I love your hesitation and your wild abandonment. I love your heart. Esme, I love you. I didn’t fully understand that word until you. My readers were right. The male characters I wrote were not ones in love with a woman. Because now, I know what it feels like.”
I’m silent, hearing the words while I read them in his eyes. Feel them in his grip. Before I can respond, he continues. “I don’t care if it’s too soon to tell you that. Genuine, earth-shattering love is deeper than a feeling. It’s a choice, as my momused to say, and I choose to love you. You’re the only woman I’ve everwantedto choose. Stay with me when we leave this place. Make a life with me in Juniper Grove or Hartfield or wherever else you want. Meet my family. I want to meet yours. And when you’re ready, Esme, sweetheart—” Noah pauses, removing his hand from my back and cupping my face, wiping at the liquid streaming from my eyes as it merges with the ocean water already there. “Marry me. Pencil me in. Iwillbe waiting for you at the altar. Let me love you well for the rest of our lives.”
“Noah, that’s crazy!” I gasp, but I can’t stop laughing. Laughing becauseyes. I want to say yes. I want him. This. Forever. “People just don’t fall in love over the span of days.”
He grins against my lips. “Sweetheart, just as two people can instantly become friends, they can also instantly love. I clicked with you, and we’ve been building a romantic friendship all week. I’ve dated women in the past for months and never could bring myself to say those words. But you?” Noah exclaims, shaking his head while disbelief shines in his eyes. “If I’m honest, I wanted to tell you that I loved you that first night. I just…knew. Would you prefer it if I worded it a little differently?” He nibbles my bottom lip, proving we are, in fact, miles away from the friendship line.
When I don’t answer immediately, Noah pulls away, but only far enough to where he can look me in my eyes. “Esme Samantha Prewitt, will you do me the greatest honor of being my best friend for life?”
Tears mix with the water in my face as I live in this suspended moment of disbelief. How is this real? How is he real? Have I gone bonkers? Lost my mind?
If I have, I’d rather not get it back.
But he doesn’t know me. Not really. “Noah, you don’t even know the real me. This woman you’ve been with, she’s—” I pause, searching for words that will break into his bones andmake him understand I’m not right for him. “She demands too much. We have this fiery chemistry now, but what if it dies? What if it was never love? What if what we have fades away and is lost to memory of time as it has in the past for you? What if one day I decide to tell you I want more romance in our relationship and you walk away? You’re like a fictional man, Noah. You’re not real. You’re too perfect.”
