He doesn’t answer, and I instantly regret asking.
I shake my head, looking away. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“Charlotte.”
I glance back at him, and there’s something different in his expression now—serious enough to make my stomach tighten.
“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
For a second, I just stare at him.
Then a nervous laugh slips out, and I shake my head. “That’s not saying much. You haven’t seen another girl since you were twelve.”
It’s meant to lighten the moment. Turn it into a joke so neither of us has to think too hard about it. But he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile.
He just holds my gaze, steady and certain, like he needs me to understand he means it.
“I could see every girl in the world, and I’d still think you were the most beautiful.”
The words hit somewhere deep in my chest, knocking the air out of me.
Before I can figure out what to say, he breaks the moment when he turns and leaves the cabin.
And just like that… he’s gone.
I stay where I am.
The cabin feels too quiet without him, the faint creak of the yacht the only sound left.
Sunlight filters through the window, catching on the white fabric of the dress and making it glow softly in the dim space.
My heart is still racing.
I glance toward the doorway, half expecting him to come back and say something else, to explain what he meant. Maybe laugh and tell me he was joking.
But nothing.
Just silence.
I turn back to the mirror. The girl staring back at me is still wearing the dress. Her hair is a little messy from twisting it up and letting it fall again, and there’s a faint flush in her cheeks that wasn’t there before.
I study her for a moment, then my gaze drops.
The book is still sitting on the bench. I pick it up, running my fingers over the cover, tracing the glossy image of the couple. My stomach flips again as his words echo in my head.
I could see every girl in the world, and I’d still think you were the most beautiful.
I brush my thumb over the title on the book cover. “I really hope you can explain things to me.”
Chapter 10
Dane Gallagher
Something has shifted with Charlotte.
At first it was subtle—the kind of change you almost miss, like the tide inching its way in. Then one day you look up and realize everything’s sitting in a different place than it was before.
She disappears for long stretches now. Not far—never far enough that I think she’s hurt or lost somewhere in the jungle—but long enough that I’ll glance up from whatever I’m doing and notice she’s been gone a while.
