Understanding dawns in her eyes and a soft, private smile made just for me graces her lips. “I like the way it feels,” she whispers. “Being taken care of.”
We grab a bottle of wine and two glasses, then head outside.
The pool lights glow soft blue across the water, casting ripples of light on the concrete. Above us, the night sky stretches wide and velvet-dark, stars scattered like freckles across the heavens. The water laps against the pool’s edge in a gentle rhythm, like a heartbeat. The night air carries the scent of jasmine from the neighbor’s garden, mixing with the chlorine and something distinctly Lucy—coconut and hope and possibility. A breeze stirs through the air, soft and perfect, caressing our skin as it passes. We sit at the edge, feet in the water, passing strawberries and chocolate back and forth like we’re at a picnic, the moment as sweet and slow as summer.
The air is warm, humid, but not oppressive. Crickets sing in the distance. The occasional whoosh of a car out on the road reminds me the world still exist outside this perfect moment. But inside it, everything feels suspended, precious.
“You know,” she says softly, her toes drifting lazy circles in the water, “these last few weeks with you have been… really special. Calm in a way I’ve never known. Like this perfect little bubble of safety and sweetness.”
I nod, because if I say too much, I’ll give away more than I should.
“I’ve enjoyed it too. You’re good company, Lucy.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, her cheek warm against my skin. Her feet dangle, kicking up tiny ripples.
“I’ve never really done the relationship thing,” she admits. “Every time I let someone get close, I either let them down… or I disappear into whatever they need from me. And my schedule doesn’t help—two jobs, dance classes, auditions—there’s never room for anything real.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Oddly enough, I get all that.”
Too well, maybe. Losing yourself for the sake of someone else—it’s a language I speak fluently.
She lifts her head, eyes finding mine with a soft, knowing smile. “I bet you do.” She cups my cheek, thumb brushing the edge of my jaw. “But you wanna hear something strange?”
“Probably.”
“I haven’t felt any of that with you,” she says. “No pressure to be anything but me. No expectation. Just your quiet, constant presence, reminding me that I’m safe.” Her brows draw together like she’s embarrassed by the truth of it. “I’m surprised by how much I like being taken care of. Wow, that sounds so selfish.”
“No,” I say immediately. “It doesn’t.”
“It’s… relaxing?” She tests the word, head tilted, then nods like she’s choosing it on purpose. “Relaxing to soften into the support instead of having to hold everything up by myself all the time.” Her gaze returns to mine, warm and vulnerable. “Part of me wishes I could stay in this bubble forever.”
“You’re welcome to stay in it as long as you want,” I murmur before I can think better. “I like who I am with you. It’s been a long time since that’s been true, I think.”
The admission sits between us and I find myself leaning into her palm. Her skin is warm, anchoring.
“You’re an amazing man, Nash. I’m grateful to know you.”
“I’m simply a reflection of you, Lucy.”
She leans in and kisses me. Slow. Unhurried. Grateful.
When we pull apart, she studies my face for a long moment, something playful dancing with the starlight in her eyes. Then, without breaking eye contact, she reaches for the hem of her T-shirt and peels it over her head. My breath catches. The moonlight turns her into something ethereal, and for a heartbeat I’m paralyzed by the sight of her.
She slides into the pool with fluid grace, her eyes never leaving mine. The water embraces her like silk, and she wriggles off her panties beneath the surface, then holds them up with a mischievous smile before dropping them on the concrete.
“Join me?”
I follow. Because how the hell could I not?
The water is warm against my skin, but not as warm as the look in her eyes. Her laugh ripples across the water like sunlight, thawing places in me I’d forgotten existed.And when she swims into my arms, all wet skin and whispered breath, I know there’s no turning back.
We kiss, and it’s everything. Heat and trust and something that feels dangerously close to falling. Eventually, we leave a trail of water back to the bedroom. Water drips down her spine as she walks ahead of me, and I follow the droplets with my eyes, memorizing the curve of her back, the way she moves like she’s dancing to music only she can hear. Clothes forgotten. Lights low.
And then we fall back into bed, skin still damp from the pool, hearts racing, safe in this precious little bubble where she’s mine and I’m hers and there’s nothing else in the world we need to worry about.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Nash
