"Rusty's captaining for us today." His voice is low, just for me. "That way I can focus my attention entirely on you."
The disappointment’s still there, but how can I argue when he puts it that way? Warmth curls through my belly at the quiet possessiveness in those words.
Rusty waves as we step aboard. "Beautiful day to be out on the water."
He's already turning back to the rigging with the tactful instinct he's shown all week, friendly but never intrusive.
Nick stows the tote below deck while I settle into the cushioned bench seat in the cockpit. Rusty secures the lines then comes back and turns the key, bringing the engine to life with a low purr. Then we begin to ease away from the dock. I tilt my face toward the sun, closing my eyes and letting the motion of the boat and the warmth of the day seep into my bones.
Nick drops onto the seat beside me, close enough that his thigh presses against mine. His hand finds my knee. His thumb moves idly against the inside of my leg, and the heat of that touch threads through me, as comforting as it is arousing.
The day unfolds in impressions rather than events.
Morning sun on my skin. White sails billowing with warm sea air. The boat cutting through water so clear I can see the sandy bottom in the shallows, the shadow of the hull gliding over sea grass. Spray misting my face when the wind gusts with a sound like a held breath releasing.
And Nick beside me—always beside me, his hand a steadying presence on my thigh, my shoulder, the small of my back. Touching me as though proximity isn't enough. As if he needs the contact the way he needs air.
We have lunch with Rusty at anchor under the shade of the bimini, snacking on sandwiches and fruit packed by the resort kitchen. Afterward, Nick and I swim off the stern in the afternoon heat. The water is impossibly warm, impossibly clear. He pulls me against him and kisses me with salt on both our lips, his hands spanning my waist beneath the surface, my legs wrapping around his hips. The hard press of his erection against me is a torment for both of us, and if not for Rusty’s presence, I know Nick and I would have spent a good amount of time naked in the cabin.
By late afternoon, the sky begins its slow turn toward sunset. Blue deepening at the edges, the first threads of gold weaving into the horizon. The kind of light that makes the water look lit from within, everything glowing as if the world is holding a candle behind a silk screen.
Nick's energy shifts as the day winds down. It's subtle enough that anyone else would miss it. But I've spent years learning the language of his body, and I notice the way his gaze keeps drifting toward the bow, then back to me.
When he notices me watching him, he smiles. But there's something behind it I can't quite reach. A brightness, almost nervous, an anticipatory quality that doesn't match his usual controlled stillness.
He reaches behind one of the bench cushions and retrieves something. I can’t see what it is, and he holds it at his back with one hand.
"Come with me," he says, his voice low.
We make our way forward, past the mast, to the bow where the deck opens up wide and the bowsprit points toward the horizon like an arrow aimed at forever.
The sky is painting itself in pastels now, rose and coral and liquid gold bleeding into each other above the waterline, and the sun hovering just above the sea. It’s the kind of sunset that stops your heart. The kind that makes my fingers itch for a paintbrush even though I know no pigment on earth could capture the way the light is dissolving the boundary between water and sky.
I turn to share it with him and find he’s lowered himself to one knee.
For a disorienting second, I don't understand. We're already engaged. The stunning diamond ring he gave me is on my finger, where it’s been for over a year.
"Nick, what are you—"
He brings out the box he’s carrying. It’s flat and larger than his handspan, a deep-red velvet jewelry box that looks beyond expensive.
My heart starts to pound.
He opens it.
Twin strands of pearls rest inside, lustrous, perfect, stacked together in an elegant choker. At the center, where they meet, a diamond infinity symbol holds them together. The stones catch the dying light and fracture it into tiny stars.
My breath leaves me in a shaky sigh.
Pearls. Everything they've meant to us—the intimacy, the trust, the first time he bound my wrists with a delicate strand like these and taught me that surrender could be its own kind of freedom. Surrender to him, because he would always keep me safe.
"I had this made for you." His voice is steady, controlled. But I see the faint tremor in his fingers as he holds the box. Even now. Even after everything we’ve been through together, now he's nervous. "This was going to be one of your wedding gifts."
"One of them?"
He gives me that half-smile I love, the one that creases the left side of his mouth and brings out the dimple few people ever get to see. Then he’s serious again, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that pins me in place.
"The two strands are us. You and me. Everything we've been through to get here." He lifts the necklace from the velvet, the pearls glistening like captured moonlight. "And this—" His thumb brushes the diamond infinity symbol. "This is my promise to you, Avery. You've owned me heart and soul from day one, but in case you ever have any doubt… I'm in this forever. Longer than forever, if I have anything to say about it."
