I waded in anyway, fully clothed, jeans soaking through, shirt plastering to my skin. The waves pushed against my calves, then my knees, insistent and alive.
Michael appeared at the shoreline, shoes still on, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. “What are you doing?”
“Being alive,” I said, grinning, arms spread wide. “Obviously.”
He looked at me, then at the water, then at the beach house where our luggage still sat unpacked. I watched the debate cross his face—the practical part of him warring with something else entirely.
“You’re completely soaked.”
“I know.” I splashed water in his direction. “It’s amazing.”
He stepped back to avoid the spray, shaking his head. But he was fighting a smile now, I could see it.
“Come on,” I called out. “Don’t make me do this alone.”
He stood there for another moment, and I saw the moment he surrendered.
Then he waded in after me.
The water soaked through his jeans immediately. His shoes were probably ruined but he didn’t seem to care. He winced at the cold, then laughed—and kept coming until he reached me.
He took my hand, and we stood there as waves crashed around our legs, soaking us higher with each surge, and I laughed until my sides hurt.
“This is insane,” Michael said, but he was smiling, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and completely stopped my heart.
A wave hit harder than the others and I stumbled. Michael caught me, steadied me, held on even after I had my footing back. His hands warm even through my soaked shirt. The water swirled around us, and for a moment neither of us moved.
“I love you,” I said, and the words felt different here—bigger, heaver, truer. The ocean stretching out behind us and the sky going soft with evening light. Not just words anymore. A promise. A thank you. Everything I couldn’t say compressed into three syllables.
His expression was tender, he pulled me closer, water sloshing between us, and pressed his forehead to mine.
“I love you too,” he said quietly, his lips pressed against my forehead, lingering there. “But your decision to swim fully clothed is objectively terrible.” He said and I laughed.
That evening, my phone rang and my grandfather-in-law’s name lit up the screen.
I answered. “Hello?”
“Is my grandson treating you well, or do I need to write him out of the will again?” Augustus’s voice came through crisp and clear.
Michael groaned next to me and muttered a curse about his grandfather going to be the death of him.
“I can hear you, you rascal!” Augustus’ voice blared through again, and this time the expression that crossed Michael’s had me doubling over in laughter.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“No need to worry about me girl, I’m as healthy as I can be. Now tell me honestly—is he being properly romantic or do I need to have Sandra give him a talking-to about how to treat a wife?”
“He’s perfect,” I said, looking at Michael across from me. “Stop threatening him.”
“Keep him in line for me. He needs someone who won’t put up with his carefree nonsense.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will. Now enjoy the rest of your vacation. And bring him to dinner soon or I really will adopt backup heirs.”
When we said goodbyes and hung up, Michael was watching me with a bemused expression. “What did he say at the end?”
“That I need to keep you in line. Something about you behaving carefree in the past.”
