Maybe tomorrow morning.
Maybe next week.
The thought sneaks up on me. Not the walk. The assumption that there’ll be a next time.
I should probably be concerned by how quickly I’ve gotten used to having her around.
Instead, I let the feeling settle.
When we get back, my hand hovers over my keys. I could return to the wedding to look for her. Instead, I lower myself onto one of the Adirondack chairs facing the ocean. Marshall circles twice before collapsing at my feet with a dramatic sigh.
The two of us wait.
Marshall lifts his head at every passing sound.
To be fair, so do I.
***
SLOANE
An errand and a cab ride later, I find Ryan exactly where I thought he’d be, and the sight fills my chest with warmth. I feel like I’m coming home, and this incredible man has been patiently waiting for me. He’s sitting in front of his place, looking out at the ocean, Marshall in a fur puddle by his feet. His dress shirt is unbuttoned at the neck and he’s lightly perspiring. He must have been walking.
“Hey,” he says, sitting up straighter. “I wasn’t sure how long you needed. Did you get my text? I would have come and picked you up. If you wanted to come back, that is.”
I deposit a plastic bag on the porch, glass clanking from inside it. “Sorry,” I say. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.”
He looks down at my feet, then back up quizzically. “What’s in the bag?” he asks. “Wedding party favors?”
“Kind of,” I say. I open the bag and pull out two bottles of Mooncatcher Lager. The woman behind the bar, apparently Delia’s daughter, gave me fair warning, but I told her I already knew exactly what I was buying.
I study Ryan’s expression as I pass him one of the bottles, then open the top of mine.
“Planning on meeting your soulmate tonight?” he asks. He looks at his watch. “It’s dangerously close to midnight.”
I pretend to look around. “Not sure anyone here’s my type.”
“Maybe not your night then,” Ryan says as he reaches out and grabs my hand, then pulls me onto his lap, and I think we know full well that it is very much my night. Very much ours.
It’s crazy, reckless, and altogether nonsensical, but we clink our bottles together, and without another word, each take a sip.
It’s an acknowledgment, a promise. I’d chug the whole bottle right now if it meant the universe would seal the deal that this thing between us is real.
But I don’t need outside intervention. The way he’s holding me, how I feel in his arms, tells me everything I need to know.
For a moment, it’s just quiet night air. As my eyes adjust to the dark, stars begin to emerge overhead while waves lap against the shore.
Something is burning bright between us and I know with every fiber of my being that this isn’t just some vacation romance. Not when the thought of leaving Ryan feels like leaving a piece of myself behind.
Another wave laps onto the shore and pulls away.
Ryan tugs me in closer. “You know,” he said. “I’m a scientist.”
“I’m aware,” I say.
“But tonight. This last week…” He trails off, and I can almost hear the decision being made in his mind around what he shouldreveal. He looks at the bottle in his hand. “I find myself believing a little bit in magic myself.” He laughs. “Is that crazy?”
“I don’t think your degree is going to be revoked or anything like that.”
