“How’s your dad?”
“Fine, I guess. The scientist in him wants the data about his condition, but the rest of him is scared shitless. So am I.” Xander sighed. “They’re going to keep him until Sunday night. Guess we’ll know more then. How was your birthday with the family?”
“It was just Jack, me, and Belinda. My parents had a last-minute emergency gala event to attend in Washington, DC. As one does.”
Xander’s expression grew stormy.
“It was really nice, actually,” I said. “Jack apologized for acting like he’s hated me for seven years.”
“And you forgave him?”
“Of course,” I said with a small smile. “I’ve only got one brother left.”
“He’s lucky to have you, and so am I.” Xander banished his cloudy thoughts and worry for his father. “You’re in the clear for the entire day? Because we’ve got some driving to do.”
“My parents are out of town. I have all day…and all night.”
Xander pulled me close, his voice rough. “Even better—but not yet.”
“You’re going to buy me dinner first?” I said with a grin as he grabbed his keys and jacket. I glanced down at my jeans, boots, and white sweater. “Am I dressed for this mystery date?”
“You’re perfect.”
“Where are we going, anyway?”
Xander gave a tilted smile. “Somewhere we don’t have to hide.”
***
Xander drove to our “mystery date,” but I knew what he had in mind as soon as the signs for Point Judith came into view.
“Oh my God, I haven’t been to Block Island since I was a kid! That’s the plan, right?”
“Do you like it?” Xander asked. “I wasn’t sure if it would be…enough.”
“I love it,” I said, and kissed his cheek.
And I love you, Xander.
The words were bursting out of me, but maybe saying that would be too much, so I bit them back.
At Point Judith, the southernmost tip of Rhode Island, Xander parked the car, and we took the ferry to Block Island, a tourist spot that was bustling in summer and more subdued in the winter months. The little town of New Shoreham was busy but not crowded on this brisk, early spring day.
Xander and I strolled hand in hand past shops and restaurantsthat lined the beach, which was still too chilly for sunbathing but perfect for long walks along the Atlantic, the water stretching out into forever. We kissed whenever we felt like it, not caring who saw us. Any time we stopped to peruse an art gallery or stroll through a boutique, his arm was around me. He’d brush his lips against my forehead just because, while I’d tuck myself into his jacket whenever we paused to take in the view.
It felt so good to love Xander out in the open, I had to tell him. It was going to come bursting out of me sooner or later.
Like now, maybe.
We waited in line at a stand that sold specialty chocolates and hot cocoa. Beside me, Xander pulled out his phone to confirm the dinner reservation he’d made at a swanky seafood restaurant for later that night. As he spoke to the hostess, he absently twisted a lock of my hair around his finger.
I didn’t know why, but that little gesture made my heart flutter and my blood heat at the same time—so natural and intimate—even a little possessive in that unassuming way of his.
“Okay, we’re all set,” he said, ending the call.
I turned to him, the words on my lips, ready to fall, when another call came in on his phone. He frowned at the screen.
“Sorry, Em, it’s the specialist calling about my dad.”
