He looked up then, those eyes landing on me. For a moment, we just stared at each other. Just us. In this little world we had.
Slowly, he reached over and took my hand, pulling me across to his seat. “Come here.”
I settled against his side, tucking myself under his arm. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Let’s play a game.”
“Like what?”
“Anything. I want to learn more about you.”
I thought about it. “When I was ten, I wanted to be a marine biologist.”
“Really?”
“For exactly three months. I watched this documentary about dolphins and decided I needed to study them professionally. Made my parents take me to the aquarium every weekend.” I smiled at the memory, back then when life used to be so normal.
“What changed?”
“I found out dolphins are actually kind of mean. Did you know they can be aggressive? Completely shattered my ten-year-old worldview.”
He laughed, the sound warm against my hair. “So you gave up on an entire career because dolphins weren’t nice enough?”
“They seemed so friendly in the documentary. Total false advertising.”
“What did you want to be after that?”
“A pastry chef. Then I realized that involved getting up at four in the morning and I’m not built for that kind of lifestyle. So, the dreams died immediately.”
His hand traced lazy patterns on my shoulder. “What about now? If you could do anything?”
“Besides being married to you?”
“Besides that.”
I turned to look at him. “I think I’d write. Maybe not novels or anything serious. Just… stories.”
“You should do it.”
“Maybe I will.”
“I’ll read everything you write. I’ll be your most annoying, devoted critic.” He kissed my forehead. “Though I doubt anything you write would need criticism.”
The flight attendant appeared with champagne we hadn’t ordered. She set the glasses down with a knowing smile and disappeared again.
Michael lifted his glass. “To dolphins being jerks… and to new dreams.”
I grabbed mine and clinked it against his. “To whatever comes next.”
When we landed in California, Michael drove us straight to the beach house. I watched the landscape scroll past the window, highways giving way to coastal roads, urban sprawl transforming into beach towns with weather-worn signs and salt-crusted railings. The ocean appeared in flashes between buildings, vast and blue and constant.
Michael carried our bags inside our new home. It was beautiful. Breathtaking—white walls and wood floors, windows overlooking the ocean that took up an entire wall.
I didn’t follow him inside. The ocean was right there, calling me like it had been waiting. I kicked off my shoes and walked toward it without thinking.
“Claudette?” Michael’s voice yelled from the house. “Where are you going?”
I didn’t answer, just kept walking until my feet hit water.
Cold. Shockingly cold. The kind that stole your breath and made you gasp.
