"The ER visit wasn't because of the press or tabloid gossip. It was because I forgot to eat and drink enough water while wearing a tight bodice in a warm room. I’m okay now.” I caress his cheek. “I'm not fragile. Neither is our baby."
A quiet acknowledgment flickers in his eyes at that. Our baby. The words still hit him every time, crack through whatever wall he's trying to hold up.
"I know you're not fragile." His voice is rough. "But there are threats you don't see. Threats you shouldn't have to think about. That's my job—to think about them so you don't have to."
"And I love you for that. I do." My thumb traces the line of his cheekbone. "Look around us, Nick. Look at these people, this place. No one's watching them. No one's shadowing their movements. They just... live. That's what I want for us. For our family."
"You're not them." His reply is sharp, torn from somewhere deep. "You're mine. And that comes with—"
"With what? A permanent security detail? Armed guards at our child's birthday parties?" I shake my head. "I don’t want that. I know you don’t either. Do we really want our child growing up thinking bodyguards are normal?”
He exhales. A long, slow breath that I feel move through his whole body. "I don't know how to stop being afraid for you. The thought of anything happening to you, or to the baby—"
"I know. I'm not asking you to be careless. I'm asking you to trust that I can take care of myself when you're not there."
He holds my gaze for a long time, emotions warring in the shadows of his eyes. When he finally lets out his breath, it sounds haggard and raw. "Okay. We can scale back. Gabe will insist on some baseline presence. I won't be able to talk him out of that entirely, nor do I want to. But for day-to-day... All right. We’ll try it your way."
Relief washes through me, sweeter than I expected. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me." His hands tighten on my hips, pulling me against him. "I'm always going to be overprotective. I'm goingto worry. I'll probably drive you crazy checking in when we're apart."
"I can live with that."
"Okay." His expression is still tight with reservation. "We’ll scale back. But I'm not—" He stops, shakes his head. "I can't turn it off completely, Avery. The need to protect you. It's not a switch I can flip."
I rise on my toes, press my lips to his. Soft. Grateful. "I'm not asking you to stop being who you are. I'm just asking for room to breathe. For both of us."
His arms tighten around me, pulling me close until there's no space left between us. His cheek rests against my hair.
"You're the only person in the world I can’t live without," he murmurs. "You know that, right?"
I smile against his chest. "I know."
We stay like that, swaying to music neither of us is really hearing anymore. The fire crackles, sending soft sparks into the night. The waves whisper against the shore.
After a while, Nick takes my hand in his and leads me back to our secluded little cottage at the far end of the beach.
The rest of the night belongs to us alone.
27
AVERY
The morning is agift.
I woke without nausea, a miracle in itself. No cold sweat, no desperate scramble for the bathroom, no Nick hovering beside me with a cool cloth and that regretful look he tries to hide. Instead, there was sunlight through the shuttered windows and his arms wrapped around me, our bodies pressed close after a night spent making love.
We showered together, then shared a quick breakfast before getting dressed for a day on the water. I chose one of the sundresses I brought with me, tossing it over my bikini with my hair loose. Now Nick’s hand holds mine as we walk to the dock where I see theIcarusalready waiting for us. It’s been moved from its mooring at some point and now bobs gently at the end of the long wooden dock.
Nick carries a large canvas tote slung over one shoulder, filled with sunscreen, water bottles, a light blanket, whatever else he packed for us. He always handles the details, and I've learned to let him. He's in a white linen button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, barefoot in tan linen pants. The shirt hangs openat the collar, exposing the bronzed hollow of his throat. As devastating as he is in a suit, this casual beach look is sexy as hell.
TheIcarus’s white sails are furled, her hull gleaming in the morning light. My heart lifts at the sight of her the way it always does. This boat holds special meaning for us. It’s where Nick first took me sailing, where I learned to trust the tilt of the deck and the snap of canvas and the steady command of his deep voice calling out instructions. It’s where, a year later, he dropped to one knee and asked me to be his wife.
And now, we’ll have another perfect day with her to add to our memories.
Before we reach the gangway, I realize the boat isn’t empty. Rusty’s on deck, doing something with the rigging. A flicker of disappointment moves through me. I'd been imagining the two of us alone on the water, sharing the day with no one else.
Nick feels my inner hesitation. His hand tightens around mine, thumb stroking the back of my knuckles.
