I want to believe him. But there are so many unanswered questions, and seemingly little to no time left to figure this out. I wish I had Nathan’s faith.
I move to face him. “Nathan, please come home to us tomorrow.”
“I promise.”
“Can you… can you promise that?” Silently, he bites down on his lip.
“I believe you,” I tell him.
He takes a sharp inhale. “Did you believe me that day?”
“Yes. I did.”
He clutches my hand and pulls it to his chest, over his heart. “I promise to do my best. There’s nothing in this world that means as much to me as you and Natalie. That’s why I’m doing it—for us and for what we love.” He motions to the shoreline. “I promise I won’t take unnecessary risks this time.”
“Make me believe it, Nathan.”
“Every night, I dreamed of you, Crystal. And then I found you. Never lose hope.” His hands slip beneath the straps of my sundress, easing them down as he breathes me in. He brushes his lips, warm and reverent, across my collarbone. His mouth opens, teasing me with little wisps of his tongue.
He leans forward, pushing me back onto the blanket. I feel the sand crunch beneath it and the chill of the wind. He cradles me in his arms and kisses me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I give in to him. All my trust, all my love.
He looks deep into my eyes.
A cool, gentle breeze stirs his golden-brown hair, and his eyelids flutter from the sensation. His bright eyes darken.
“I love the way you look at me,” he murmurs.
He shifts his weight, diving into me, surprising me with his assertiveness. Lightly brushing his lips across my skin, he pauses at my navel and blows butterfly kisses that make me shiver. I gasp, feeling a rush of warmth in my core. Then, I curl my fingers through his hair and lead him down further.
“Greedy little thing.”
I smile.
After we love each other as if we’ll never get another chance, we finish our picnic.
Spreading some cheese and jam on a cracker, I offer it to him. He takes it in one bite.
“It’s not overrated,” I say.
“What?”
“Sex on the beach.”
He laughs. “Who told you it was overrated?”
“You.”
“Well, obviously I lied.” He leans in for another kiss and another cracker.
“I love your surprises.” He picks up the bottle of jam and squints his eyes, unable to read the label in the dark.
“Fig.” I take the bottle and fix him another. “Fig jam and brie are the best.”
“Fancy.”
We laugh, and I fix us more crackers and something to drink. Champagne for me, water for him. “I’m planning something special for you tomorrow when you come home. A memory,” I say.
His eyes light up. “Another surprise?”
