Fairytale weddings are only supposed to happen in books. Not in Thatcher’s Bay, of all places.
Leave it to my sister to sprinkle a little bit of magic on this island.
As sunlight filters through the stained-glass windows, illuminating the grandeur of the cathedral, whispers of awe echo through the hallowed halls. The packed-to-the-brim church is decorated beautifully with warm colors and more flowers than I’ve ever deemed possible being contained in one place. Flowers adorn every pew and every corner, their fragrance filling the air with a delicate sweetness. The altar, dressed in ethereal white, stands proudly at the end of the aisle, awaiting the couple’s arrival. I can’t help but smile when I run my fingertips through the hidden daisies in the various bouquets, something I’m sure Derrick must have insisted on.
“Skylar,” I hear my mother call out from down the hall, her head poking out of the changing room where my sister is currently holed up. “Did you bring it?”
“I got it, Mom.” I smile, hurriedly walking towards her.
“Thank God. Your sister was just about to call the whole wedding off,” my mother jokes half-heartedly, but knowing Daisy, she’s probably spent the last half hour threatening to do just that.
“No need to call off the wedding just yet,” I taunt, handing my mother the family heirloom that I had to run back to our house to retrieve from her jewelry box.
It’s a simple pearl necklace. Nothing fancy or even that expensive, but it’s been in our mother’s side of the family for decades, and for some reason, Daisy demanded that it be her something old.
My mother opens the door to the room to let me in and then quickly closes it shut behind me, probably more afraid that her eldest daughter will make a run for it than she is of anyone sneaking a peek at Daisy in her gown.
My heart leaps to my throat when I see my beautiful sister in her long flowing white gown, looking like Venus herself. Her long blonde hair is up, exposing her long slender neck, leaving tendrils of blonde curls to kiss her face.
“Daisy,” I breathe out, tears starting to coat my eyes, as my mother puts the necklace on her.
“Nope!” Daisy shouts, pointing a menacing finger at me. “None of that. I’m this close to losing it already. If you cry, then I’ll cry. Then, of course, Mom will cry seeing us cry, and before you know it, all the Ames women are bawling their eyes out and ruining perfectly good makeup that took hours to put on. Don’t you dare do it, Sky,” she orders, but her voice comes out too shaky and nervous for us to pretend my sister isn’t, in fact, freaking out.
I tread ever so carefully towards her, like one would do when confronting a scared animal that is seconds away from running for cover.
“Daisy, are you hanging in there okay?”
“What does it look like?” She half-laughs, half-cries.
Yup.
It’s official.
The bride is having a total meltdown.
“Daisy, look at me,” I plead sweetly, grabbing her hand in mine and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Take a deep breath in,” I tell her while performing the action to show her how it’s done, since Daisy’s current notion of breathing is hyperventilation. “Now out,” I exhale. “Deep breath in. And then deep breath out. There you go,” I praise as she keeps at it. “Mom, can you grab Daisy some water? Maybe with a bit of sugar, please?”
“On it,” my mother retorts with pure resolve in her tone, as if fetching us sugar water was the mission she was meant to carry out as her life’s purpose.
I guess the bride isn’t the only one who’s losing it a little bit.
“You’re doing great, Daisy. So great,” I continue to reassure her.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers, fear in her eyes.
“You can do this, Daisy. I know you can.” I smile comfortingly. “Forget about everyone who is waiting outside for you and focus on the one person who actually matters—Derrick. Can you do that for me?”
I watch my sister swallow dryly, her eyes scanning all the exits in the room to make a quick getaway.
“Talk to me, Daisy. Tell me what you need?” I ask, needing to pull her attention away from any exit strategy she can come up with.
When her frantic blue eyes meet mine, I see such open vulnerability in them that my heart begins to chip away at its edges, needing to do anything and everything in its power to ease her anxiety.
“Tell me, Daisy? Let me help you,” I supplicate.
“What if I’m not marriage material?” She finally confesses what has been plaguing her mind. “What if…what if…I’m just like him?”
“Him?” I parrot, not fully understanding what she means.
“Grant. What if I’m like our father?” she whispers, low and unsure.
“You, Daisy Ames, are nothing like him,” I assure her with utter conviction. “Is that what’s been bothering you? That you might be like him?”
“Yes,” she chokes out nervously. “Everyone always keeps reminding me how alike we are. What if they’re right? What if I’m like that cheating piece of shit, too? What if I’m not cut out to be someone’s wife?”
“First of all, when did you start giving credit to anyone’s opinion but your own? And secondly, even if you do share his genes, in no shape or form does that mean you’ll end up like him. Family is everything to you, Daisy. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body. His sins are not yours to bear. You are your own person. You always have been. The best person I know,” I tell her and mean it.
Daisy has always been my hero.
So if she needs a minute to realize how amazing she is, then I’ll make sure to remind her, every step of the way.
“I do love him,” Daisy admits, her lower lip trembling. “I love him so much. I don’t want to hurt him. Ever. Derrick is everything to me.”
“Just hearing you say that means that you are lightyears ahead of being like our father. You are going to make an amazing wife, Daisy. I have no doubt in my mind that you and Derrick are going to be very happy together. You know how I know that? Because you two already are.”
Daisy takes in another deep breath and gives me a shaky nod.
“You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I’m just being silly, I guess.”
“Not at all. This is a big step, Daisy. And I’m so damn proud of you. So proud to call you my sister.”
“Hey—”
“I know. I know. No tears.” I laugh, giving her hand another soft squeeze. “Now, are you ready to make this wedding your bitch or not?” I arch a teasing brow.
“Look at you…being all badass and cursing inside a church,” she teases back, looking more like the Daisy I’ve always looked up to.
“Just don’t tell Mom,” I giggle.
“Don’t tell Mom what?” our mother asks, reappearing next to us and handing Daisy her sugar water.
“Oh, nothing. I was just telling Sky how I fully plan to consummate my marriage with my hot-as-hell husband on our drive back to our reception,” Daisy taunts after drinking her water.
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus, girl, but must you be so crass all the time?” my mother admonishes, but there isn’t a hit of accusation in her tone.
“Well, you did ask, Mom,” I chime in with a laugh.
“You two girls will be the death of me,” our mother singsongs, pride laced in every word.
We all look at each other, the sense of love and peace evident in our individual stares.
“I love you girls so much. I could not be prouder of my girls.”
“We love you too, Mom,” I stutter, feeling overwhelmed with the weight of such unconditional love packed in such a small room.
It’s the gentle knock on the door that pulls us away from breaking down and bawling our eyes out just as Daisy predicted.
“You girls about ready?” Curt asks, poking his head inside the room. “Jesus, Mother, and Joseph,” he gawks, walking inside. “But you are a sight to behold, Daisy.”
“Curt? Are you crying right now?” Daisy asks when Curt begins to sniffle as he eyes my sister up and down.
“No, no. Just allergies,” he quickly defends, wiping away at the stray tears that cling to his cheeks.
“Right,” I tease, giving his arm a squeeze. “You Fontaine men hide it well, but you’re nothing but teddy bears underneath that alpha facade.”
“Why do you think I married him?” my mother gloats proudly.
As I look in the room, and feel all the love that lies in it, I also instantly feel Noah’s absence and how he should be here too.
“Noah’s already at the altar next to a very antsy groom,” Curt explains, as if reading my thoughts. “So is this wedding happening or not? Just say the word and we can make a run for it. I can get the car running in less than two minutes.” He wiggles his brows at my sister.
“There will be no running,” I reprimand, slapping Curt’s forearm. “Daisy’s got this. Don’t you, babe?”
“You bet your sweet ass I do,” Daisy exclaims, head held high, her previous cold feet no longer in sight. “Go on, sis, and start the show. I have a husband waiting for me.”
“About damn time,” Curt exhales, relieved, revealing that he’s one hundred percent on board with this marriage even after he offered the bride-to-be a means of escape.
“You never fooled me, Dad.” I poke his arm before making my own retreat to the hall to start this wedding.
“Allergies, my ass! What did you say to the man, Skylar?! I can’t go out with you crying like that. Pull yourself together, dude!” I hear my sister shout and laugh behind me.
And that’s when it dawns on me: I just called Curt dad.
It just came out.
Maybe it was because I was still riding high off the special moment that me, my sister and mother just shared, that calling Curt dad just flowed off my tongue like I’ve been calling him that all his life.
Truth be told, Curt has been more of a father to me and Daisy than Grant has ever been. Though his apathy towards us used to be a sore spot for me, it doesn’t hurt as much now. Grant gave us what he could, what he was capable of giving anyone. There was a limit to his love and attention. It didn’t make him a bad person, just a bad father.
Curt stepped up to fill that role without even asking for the title.
If anyone should bear the honor of being called our dad, then I know of no better man than him.
“Is she ready?” Lucy, the wedding planner the Monroes brought in all the way from New York City to organize this shindig, asks.
I give her the thumbs up to start the show and watch as the woman gives the order into her earphones. Not a second later, the wedding march begins to sing out in the cathedral, coaxing the wedding guests to get up from their seats.
Nervous energy runs through me as I turn my head over my shoulder, wondering what’s taking them so long to come out. My mother is the first to leave the changing room, followed by a now composed Curt and my beautiful sister hanging on his arm.
“Here we go,” my mother whispers, throwing me a conspiring wink before she walks through the grand arches of the cathedral and slowly makes her way down the aisle to her seat on the first row opposite Derrick’s parents.
When I verify that she’s now seated, I turn around and mouth an ‘I love you’ to my sister and then proceed to follow in my mother’s footsteps. All eyes are on me as I walk down the aisle, while my own gaze finds the boy I used to hate up on the altar, looking every bit as handsome as the groom.
Noah smiles back at me, with a mischievous grin on his lips that tells me he not only approves of my dress, but is eager to strip it off me later tonight. My cheeks heat up at his penetrating gaze, wondering if everyone here can also read the salacious thoughts in his head as well as I can. Once I step onto the altar, I take my spot and wait for Daisy to make her grand appearance.
Five seconds later, and on cue, Daisy steps into the limelight, with a proud Curt at her side.
“Fuck,” I hear Derrick mutter under his breath, pulling my attention towards him and away from my glowing sister. “Have you ever seen anyone more beautiful?” he adds, his own green eyes starting to sparkle with unshed tears. “Pinch me, asshole, just to make sure I’m not dreaming.”
“Pull it together, D,” Noah whispers beside him, giving Derrick a good pinch at his side for his troubles. “Or Daisy will have your balls.”
“Like she already doesn’t?” Derrick retorts, wiping his tears away just so he doesn’t miss a single minute of my sister walking towards him. “I’m the luckiest fucking guy in the world.”
“Second luckiest,” Noah drawls, throwing me a wink, while the priest clears his throat, not exactly thrilled with their banter.
But Derrick doesn’t hear Noah’s last remark or the priest’s not so subtle reprimand, too busy basking in Daisy’s light to care about anything else but her.
When she finally reaches him, he quickly walks down the stairs to take her off Curt’s hands.
“Take good care of our girl, Monroe. She’s one of a kind.”
“That she is, sir. That she is,” Derrick agrees, his attention fully on my sister’s smile.
He helps her onto the altar, taking both of her hands in his as they get lost in each other’s eyes.
“Took your sweet ass time to get here, Petal,” he says, lifting her hands so he can kiss her knuckles. “Was your objective in making me wait just to see me sweat, or were you thinking of making a run for it?”
“Neither thought ever crossed my mind,” she teases him.
Derrick leans in just a bit and then whispers in her ear, but since I’m just a few steps away from the loving couple, I hear every word.
“Good. Because there isn’t a place in this whole world where I wouldn’t go to find you.”
“Promise?”
Derrick’s wicked smile pulls at the corner of his lips at her reply, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek, before pulling back to give the priest the order to start.
Yep. No doubt about it.
After that little exchange, there is no question in my mind that Daisy and Derrick are perfect for each other.
He matches her crazy perfectly.
And as the priest begins to talk about love and marriage and how this new journey they are now on will be filled with highs and lows, but ultimately love and understanding, my sight leaves the two love birds and falls on the man who has been staring at me the whole time.
Noah.
Yes. Love does have its peaks.
It can make you feel like you’re flying one minute and drowning the next, but as long as the person you are with holds your hand throughout all of it, there is nothing you can’t withstand.
Noah and I have suffered our fair share of heartbreak.
But we’ve loved each other through all of it.
Even when we weren’t physically together, our hearts never allowed anything to sever our bond.
Hate couldn’t do it.
Distance couldn’t do it.
Not even time could tear us apart.
Our hearts have always been beating the same song—each other’s name.
If Derrick and Daisy have even a sliver of that same connection Noah and I share, then this wedding is just a formality.
Because in the end they were always destined for each other—come what may.
“You know they fucked already, right?” Noah leans in to whisper behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his chest.
“Everyone knows that. I mean, look at them? They look like they are ready to make a condom commercial.” I point to the dancing couple who just can’t keep their hands off each other.
Not even the two hundred guests gawking at them seems to cool their libido any.
When my sister teased my mom hours ago about consummating her marriage on the car ride to the reception, I really thought she was kidding.
I was dead wrong.
By how her beautiful gown is a little torn in the back and lipstick stains are all over the groom’s collar, I’m not sure they even made it to the car.
“I feel like someone should take the small children elsewhere. I’ve seen more of my brother-in-law’s tongue in the last few hours than anyone should.” I shudder.
“I don’t know,” Noah croons in my ear. “I’ve seen a lot of couples sneaking off to hook up in the bushes. Something about seeing the bride and groom all handsy has been making people horny for fucking in places they can get easily caught.”
“Noah Fontaine, if this is your way of trying to get some, then I suggest you know your audience. That is my sister and brother-in-law. Nothing about their PDA gets me hot. Gross.”
When Noah starts chuckling in my ear, I realize he’s just been teasing me.
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” I laugh, slapping his forearm.
“Sorry. I just couldn’t help it. It’s just too easy to mess with you.” He continues to chuckle, tightening his hold on me.
“Try.”
“Fine. I’ll behave,” he concedes, placing a tender kiss on my neck. “But when we get home later tonight, no promises. I fully intend to misbehave then. That fucking dress is going to look amazing on my floor.”
My cheeks heat up at his threat, which I pray he keeps. I’ve been having a hard time myself in his company tonight. Noah looking so breathtakingly handsome in his dark navy suit and tie gives a girl like me funny ideas. Ideas like taking a cue from my sister and fucking his brains out in a dark corner somewhere.
Men shouldn’t look this good.
It isn’t fair to the rest of us mere mortals.
Feeling my throat suddenly parched, I suggest we go over to the open bar and get a refill of champagne. As we sway through the crowd of guests, I am once again amazed at the beautiful wedding reception my sister’s in-laws were able to provide.
Whatever issues the Monroes might have had with this marriage, they sure made up for them by pulling out all the stops.
The tent shimmers under the warm glow of elegant chandeliers, casting a mesmerizing ambiance over the grand reception. With Noah guiding me every step of the way to the open bar, my heart swells with admiration as I survey the unquestionable opulence surrounding us. Daisy’s wedding reception is nothing short of a lavish paradise, a true celebration of love and prosperity.
When we first arrived at the Monroe estate and were led to the back yard, I must admit I had my misgivings, thinking that maybe they were going to snub Daisy in some way, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Entering the tent, my senses were immediately met with an alluring symphony of fragrances. The air carried the aroma of delicate roses, while the tables were adorned with cascades of vibrant flowers in every shade imaginable. The sweet fragrance intertwined seamlessly with the melodious tunes flowing from the string quartet, creating an ethereal atmosphere that seemed impossible to escape.
The grandeur of the scene was further enhanced by the breathtaking décor. Delicate crystal chandeliers hung from the tent’s ceiling, gracefully illuminating the space and casting cascades of light on the immaculate white linens draping the tables. Every inch of the reception boasted exquisite details, from the intricately carved ice sculptures to the plush, velvet chairs that beckoned guests to indulge in comfort and luxury.
As we perused the delectable array of gourmet dishes on offer, I marveled at the culinary brilliance that lay before me. Morsels of culinary artistry adorned sleek silver platters, each dish meticulously crafted with precision and care. Dainty hors d’oeuvres teased the palate, while an array of culinary delights spanned the length of a long, decadent buffet table. It was a feast that would surpass even the grandest of feasts, a testament to the Monroes’ desire to pamper their guests.
When we finally reach our destination, Noah orders us our drinks, and with each sip of champagne, the bubbles of joy tickle my taste buds, adding yet another layer of delight to this extravagant affair. I watch the bartenders hard at work making sure expensive bubbly flows as if from a never-ending fountain, promising to keep the festivities alive all night long.
In this moment, I realize that this grand celebration is not just a wedding reception; it’s a testament to Derrick and Daisy’s love for one another, a momentous display of affection and gratitude. The Monroes spared no expense in creating a dreamlike experience for their son’s guests, and as I join in the merry celebration, I can’t help but feel immensely grateful to them for giving my sister such a magnificent experience.
But just as those happy feelings for the Monroes take root in my heart, a familiar laugh grabs my attention from the other side of the bar. Stacy Monroe looks every bit the sophisticated socialite in her designer dress as she continues to talk animatedly with some of her family’s guests.
“Want to go back to the dance floor?” Noah asks after he sees what has caught my attention.
“In a minute. Hold this for me, will you?” I singsong, handing him my champagne flute.
“Sky—” he starts to say, probably thinking I’m going to start a cat fight or something, but my reasons are quite the opposite.
“Stacy,” I greet once I reach her.
“Skylar. Hi,” she greets sheepishly.
“Do you mind if we talk for a minute?”
Her panicked green eyes scan the tent full of guests as if looking for a knight in shining armor to help her, but I quickly assure her there is no need for such a thing.
“I promise to be quick.”
“Okay, then,” she replies hesitantly.
We walk just far enough for her friends not to hear our conversation but not too far that we’re completely alone together.
“If this is about that night at Daisy’s bachelorette party, then I have to say I was quite drunk and don’t remember most of it,” she quickly tries to defend.
“I really hope that’s not the case, since it was that talk that changed my mind about you,” I explain with a sincere smile.
“Oh?” she mutters suspiciously.
“Hmm. You see, I’m a firm believer that people never truly change. That they are who they are deep at their core. It’s up to each individual to make up their minds to accept—or not accept—that person. Having said that, I do think you’re trying to be better. Not for me, of course, since who I am bears no real importance in the grand scheme of things in your life, but because something inside you is forcing you to. Maybe it’s because life has been hard on you too, or maybe it’s motherhood that has softened you. Whatever the reason, I just want to tell you that I see that you’re trying.”
“Thank you,” she stammers, unbelieving that all that came out of my mouth.
“Now, I know we’ll never be friends,” I add, going to the crux of it. “Too much has passed between us for that to happen. We could never truly trust each other enough to be friends, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly. After today, with my sister marrying your brother, we are connected and hopefully will remain so, as I’d like nothing more than to see Daisy happy with Derrick for years to come.”
“I agree. In fact, I couldn’t put it better myself.” Stacy smiles a genuine grin that makes her look ten years younger.
“So we’re agreed? We’ll be friendly from here on out?” I hold out my hand for her to shake.
Stacy eagerly shakes my hand as I watch years of guilt lift off her shoulders. But when she doesn’t let go and pulls me close, my hackles rise, even if only a little.
“Make him happy, Skylar. He’s known sadness for far too long. You both have.”
She then pulls away and gives me, yet again, one of her genuine smiles before slipping back to where her friends remain at the bar.
That shit is going to take some getting used to.
“Everything okay?” Noah asks, now next to me, making me aware that he was close by just in case I needed him.
“Everything is just fine,” I reassure him. “I mean, it was to be expected, me running into one of your girlfriends here. Thatcher’s Bay isn’t that big. I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into more,” I joke, trying to ease his concern.
“Not sure why you’re so surprised. I only ever had two girlfriends in my life, and I only ever fell in love with one,” he retorts, nudging his knuckle on the tip of my nose so I understand that I’m the one he’s referring to.
My forehead wrinkles in confusion with his statement.
“You mean you’ve never been in a relationship aside from the ones back in high school?”
“Nope.” He pops the p at the end and leans forward. “I haven’t been with anyone since you left. What would have been the point? I had already found the love of my life. There was no need to keep searching.”
If my ovaries had an internal clock, then I think this man just turned the damn thing on in hyperdrive mode.
Uncaring of who will see us, I plant my hands on his shoulders and pull myself up just high enough for my lips to meet his. Noah doesn’t hesitate and kisses me with the same ardent passion currently streaming through my veins. When we finally break apart, Noah’s eyes hood instantly, his hands finding purchase on my hips.
“You sure you don’t want to go for a walk and talk about it some more?” He cocks a roguish brow.
“I might be persuaded, if by talk, you really mean fool around?” I tease, biting my bottom lip.
He doesn’t even offer me a reply, quickly grabbing my hand to lead me to only God knows where.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Curt Fontaine and newly married Mrs. Daisy Monroe to the dance floor for their father/daughter dance.”
“Wait! Wait!” I shout to Noah when I hear the presentation. “I don’t want to miss their dance.”
“This better be good, old man,” Noah curses under his breath but abides by my request.
We make our way to the dance floor again, Daisy and Curt dancing flawlessly in circles, making everyone tear up a little at the sweet scene.
But then it happens.
The melodic song playing scratches and is replaced by none other than Soulja Boy’s ‘Crank That Soulja Boy’. Curt and Daisy just stare at each other for a few brief seconds, shrug, and then break into the dance inspired by the song.
“No fucking way!” Noah cackles as we watch the pair get into it like a couple of teenagers after a few too many.
For the following five minutes, everyone claps and cheers as Daisy and our dad dance to the craziest songs ever expected to be heard at such an elegant wedding reception. From John Travolta’s ‘Grease Lightning’ to MC Hammer’s ‘Can’t Touch This’ to Beyonce’s epic ‘Single Ladies’. I’m laughing so hard that I can’t keep up with their eclectic playlist or dance moves, my tears making everything too blurry to keep track of. But that’s okay because I’m pretty sure everyone with a phone is currently filming this, and it will undoubtedly be on YouTube before the night is over.
When they are finally done, and take their well-deserved bow, they urge everyone to accompany them onto the dance floor—thankfully for a slow song. Curt swaps places with Derrick and begins to dance with my mom, who is still laughing at her husband’s antics.
“This family always surprises me,” I whisper, my head nestled against Noah’s chest.
“What is not surprising is how they are still the world’s best cock blockers,” he jokes.
“Hey, be nice. That was amazing what your dad just did for Daisy. Grant wouldn’t even have bothered. Too much effort for too little reward,” I explain, my father’s words ringing out in my ears.
Noah lifts my chin and looks deep into my eyes.
“None of that, little stalker. Today is a good day. Let’s enjoy it.”
“It has been a wonderful day, hasn’t it?”
“The best I’ve had in a long time, Sky,” he whispers, love swimming in the vast ocean that is his eyes.
I’m about to open my mouth to suggest that, after this dance, we go find a place to be alone, when the couple next to us nudges Noah’s shoulders to pull his attention to them.
“Just wanted to congratulate you on last week’s race, Noah. Can’t wait to see you blow everyone out of the water at the Grand Prix next year.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it,” Noah replies politely.
The dancing duo go on their merry way, completely unaware that they just brought up the elephant in the room that we have been trying to ignore.
“When do you have to go?” I ask, unable to meet his eyes.
“I’m supposed to leave by the end of next month. At least, that was the plan.”
“Was?” I ask, gaining the courage to lift my gaze to meet his.
“It all depends on you, really.” He smiles sheepishly. “If you want to come with me or not.”
“To New Zealand? You want me to sail off with you to the other side of the world?” I ask, gobsmacked.
“With every fiber of my being, Sky. That’s exactly what I want.”
A lump forms at my throat at how serious he is.
“I…I…”
“You don’t have to give me an answer right now. This wasn’t even how I wanted to pop the question, truth be told. I had a whole speech with a list of pros and cons for you. But hey, that’s what I want. But if you think it’s too fast too soon, then I can hold off going to the Grand Prix next year. We can take our time. And then, when you’re ready, we can go.”
“You’d hold off following your dream for me?” I ask incredulously.
“Racing isn’t my dream. Fuck, not even sailing is anymore, and I love it with all my heart,” he replies, his gaze deadlocked on mine. “You’re my dream, Sky. You’re all I care about. The rest doesn’t even come close. Not by a longshot.”
My heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest with how hard it’s thumping as each word falls from his lips.
“I love you, Sky. Always have. Always will. I’ll take your lead on this. We have time. Time I thought we’d never have. So I’m good with whatever you decide.”
“That’s a lot, Noah. That’s a big decision to make. I don’t want you to not do something just because of me. Not only that, but both you and I know that I’m not exactly great with water, much less a whole ocean.”
After my swim the other day, I was getting better. But true comfort in the water would take time.
He runs the back of his hand up and down my cheek, looking completely relaxed and not at all freaked out. No. That’s me. I’m the one who is currently losing her mind.
“Do you trust me, little stalker?” he asks, his voice going down an octave.
“With my life,” I confess wholeheartedly.
“Then trust me when I say that I will always keep you safe. Your body, soul, and heart will always be safe with me. I love you, Skylar. Nothing and no one will ever hurt you again. Including me. I will never allow it.”
This is the second time in as many minutes that he’s said he loves me.
And every time, I remain silent.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I can see those wheels in your head turning so fast that I’m surprised smoke isn’t coming out of your ears,” he teases, since making a joke or wisecrack has always been our default mechanism when things just get too real. “Now, how about we sneak out of here and find a secluded spot, so I can make all the loud ruckus in your head go away?”
Sex being our other go to move when things start to be too much for one of us to deal with.
Instead of facing the issue head on, I nod and let Noah lead me off the dance floor so that my body can tell him all the words I haven’t summoned up the courage to say yet.
