"We needed a lunch spot," he said instead. "This seemed as good as any."
Lily saw right through him—he could tell by the slight curve of her smile—but she didn't push. "Well, I hope 'lunch' includes swimming, because there's no way I'm looking at that water and not getting in."
Before he could respond, she was already stripping off her tank top to reveal the bikini underneath—pink again, because of course it was—and picking her way across the rocks toward the water's edge.
"Coming?" she called over her shoulder.
Alex watched her dive in, surfacing with a gasp and a laugh that echoed off the rocks. Her hair slicked back from her face, droplets catching the light like tiny diamonds.
You're in trouble, his brain reminded him.
He was already pulling off his shirt.
The water was perfect—cool enough to be refreshing, warm enough to be comfortable. Alex swam lazy laps, trying to focus on the sensation of water against his skin instead of the woman floating on her back a few feet away.
But his eyes kept drifting to her anyway. The way her wild curls fanned out around her head like a halo. The peaceful expression on her face as she stared up at the canopy. The curve of her neck, the swell of her chest, the?—
Stop it.
"Can I ask you something else?" Lily said when he paused near her.
"You're going to anyway."
"True." She righted herself, treading water. "What's the loneliest you've ever been? On one of these research trips?"
The question clearly caught him off guard. He was quiet for a long moment, considering.
"There was a trip to Antarctica," he said finally. "Three months at a research station studying penguin colonies. The team was small—just three of us—and the others were paired off. Couple of climatologists who'd been married for twenty years." He smiled slightly at the memory. "I spent a lot of nights alone, watching the aurora and wondering why I'd built my whole life around avoiding exactly the kind of connection they had."
"Did you figure it out?"
"I decided it was easier to study species that didn't make me question my life choices." His eyes met hers. "Your turn. What are you most afraid of people knowing about you?"
He watched her hesitate, her feet drifting toward thesandy bottom. The pause told him the question had landed somewhere real.
"That I'm not actually happy," she said, her voice quieter than he'd ever heard it. "That the whole brand—sunny Lily, positive vibes only, living her best life—it's mostly performance. I smile for the camera, and then I spend my nights alone in hotel rooms wondering if any of it means anything."
The admission hung in the air between them, raw and unexpected. Alex felt something shift in his chest—recognition, maybe. Understanding.
Lily's expression flickered with something that looked like panic. "God, I can't believe I just told you that. I never tell anyone that. My therapist doesn't even know that, and I pay her two hundred dollars an hour."
"Maybe that's the problem."
"What do you mean?"
"Paying someone to listen isn't the same as trusting someone enough to hear you."
She stared at him, and Alex had the uncomfortable sensation of being seen just as clearly as he'd seen her. "When did you get so wise?"
"I'm not wise. I'm just good at stating the obvious in ways that sound profound." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Marine biologist trick."
She splashed him, and he splashed her back, and suddenly they were both laughing, the heaviness of the moment dissolving into something lighter.
When the splashing subsided, they were closer than before—close enough that Alex could see the individual droplets clinging to her lashes, the gold flecks in her green eyes that he'd never noticed before.
"This doesn't feel like killing time anymore," she said softly.
"No." His voice was rougher than usual. "It doesn't."
