Tell her.
The thought surfaced unbidden, and Alex's throat tightened.
Tell her what, exactly? That somewhere between the arguments and the banter and the way she made him laugh despite himself, he'd fallen so hard he couldn't see straight? That the idea of her boarding that supply boat made him feel like he was drowning on dry land?
I don't want you to leave.
The words were right there. He could feel them pressing against his teeth, demanding release.
I think I'm falling in love with you.
But his mouth wouldn't cooperate. Twenty-six years of emotional self-protection didn't dissolve overnight, no matter how green her eyes were or how perfectly she fit against him.
So instead of speaking, he made a decision.
If he couldn't tell her, he could show her.
Carefully, so as not to wake her, Alex slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen. The coffee maker gurgled to life, filling the cabin with the rich scent of brewing caffeine. He moved through the familiar routine—grounds, water, waiting—while his mind raced through logistics.
The sea turtle nest. He'd been monitoring it for weeks, tracking the subtle signs that indicated the eggs were developing normally. If his calculations were right, they were deep into the hatching window now. Could be any day.
She should see it.
Not for footage. Not for content. Just because it mattered to him, and he wanted to share something that mattered with someone who?—
Who what, Carmichael? Finish the thought.
Someone who mattered to him, too.
"You're making that face again."
Alex turned to find Lily standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt and a sleepy smile. Her curls were a magnificent disaster, and there were pillow creases on her cheek.
His heart did something complicated in his chest.
"What face?" he managed.
"Your 'I'm thinking very serious thoughts about very serious things' face." She shuffled toward the coffee maker, hip-checking him gently as she reached for a mug. "It's too early for existential crises. The sun isn't even up yet."
"I don't have existential crises. I have research concerns."
"Same thing, different vocabulary." She took a long sip of coffee and hummed with appreciation. "Okay. I'm listening. What's the research concern?"
I'm concerned that I can't imagine my life without you in it, and that terrifies me.
"I need to check on something," he said instead. "On the eastern shore. Thought you might want to come."
Her eyebrow rose—that familiar gesture he'd come to recognize as Lily's bullshit detector engaging. "Is this a 'bring your camera' kind of invitation or a 'leave your camera' kind?"
"Whichever you prefer."
Something shifted in her expression—curiosity, maybe, or recognition that this was different from his usual invitations. "Give me ten minutes."
She disappeared into the bathroom, and Alex let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
You're in so much trouble, Carmichael.
He was beginning to acceptthat.
