He’s wearing a pale blue shirt, open at the collar, teamed with casual shorts to his knees, giving him a relaxed look. His hair is longer now than I’ve ever seen it. It’s gently ruffled as if he’s just rolled out of bed. His feet are completely bare. I give him a curious look and gesture at his toes.
“You don’t need shoes,” he says as a way of explanation.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t. Take those contraptions off your feet and come with me.”
He walks into the room as I sit at the dressing table, then crouches down, slowly releasing the buckles on each of my sandals and removing them. He trails his fingers along the soles of my feet, sending shivers through my body.
Upon standing, he holds out one hand, and I take it, rising with him. He leads me from the cave and out onto the beach.
We walk toward the water’s edge. Only meters from the ocean, a table is set for two. It's a small bistro-style table covered in white linen and silver tableware that glints under the moonlight. He pulls out one seat, and I sit, then he lowers himself into the chair opposite me.
Classical music drifts through the air, but I can’t work out its source. A waiter dressed in black trousers and a white shirtappears from nowhere. He smiles at us, then pours crisp wine into the waiting glasses.
“Are you ready for your first course, sir?”
“Yes, thank you. Please tell the chef to take his time with the meal. I want to savor every mouthful.” He glances at me, his eyes dark. “Perfection can’t be rushed.”
The waiter nods, then scurries off across the beach. We both watch him go.
“This is beautiful,” I tell him. “I already know this is a night I’ll never forget.”
“The first of many,” he says, lifting his glass. I do the same, and we gently clink them together. A soft ting fills the air as they connect.
“To the woman who has finally tamed Ivan Harley,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on me. “The woman who I never thought existed.”
“You heard me.” Heat creeps up my neck.
“I did. Your words were wonderful. I didn’t want to interrupt your speech.”
I flush, embarrassed at being caught. He places his glass on the table and stretches across to take my free hand in his. I sip my wine, watching him raptly. My heart hammers in my chest?this feels so intimate, as if we’re in our own world.
“And hearing those words made me the happiest I ever remember being. You’ve branded my heart indefinitely. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”
I exhale, tension rushing past my lips. “I’m scared. What if we don’t work out? What if you miss your old life?” He squeezes my fingers. “What if I’m not enough for you?”
The waiter reappears with two small plates of fresh fruit, places one in front of each of us, then retreats without a word.
“Not enough?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “So far in our short relationship, you’ve been to my country club, stayed in myhome, and had me begging you to come on this trip with me. I’ve introduced you to my family.”
He drops his eyes to the table, pausing for a moment before looking at me once more.
“I’ve never wanted to do those things with a woman before. In all honesty, I’ve never had the urge to have a partner or create a life with someone, always preferring to only have me to worry about. You’ve changed that. I want to care for you too.”
“Ivan, I…”
“I’m not expecting you to swear your undying love. If it’s easier, wait until you think I’m sleeping.” He smirks. “I know you’ve been hurt in the past by the person you thought never would. Life dealt you plenty of shit and hard times. I want to fill your days from now on with happy memories to offset the balance.”
“I wish you’d met my sister,” I say. “She would have adored you.”
“So do I,” he replies. “It’s up to you to tell me all about her. I want to hear all your embarrassing stories. All your teenage antics. Every crazy thing the two of you did.” He’s completely focused on me as he speaks. “Any time you want to talk about her or your past, I’m here. No topic is off limits.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “You have no idea how much that means. Bex may have died four years ago, but she’s very much here with me in my heart. I don’t think I’ll ever accept she’s gone.”
“You shouldn’t be expected to. Grief is something we learn to carry, not conquer.”
“Who did you lose?” I ask automatically, then immediately clasp my hand to my mouth. “Sorry, don’t answer that if you don’t want to. I mean...”
