Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
She laughs. “Is that a compliment?”
“Absolutely,” I reply. “I love seeing you like this. You’re so happy.”
“I’m always happy. Or most of the time anyway. Especially if I’m with you.”
I can’t think of a better compliment. And I feel exactly the same.
Everything feels right. Like Kate fits here. Like I fit here.
“Back at you.” I kiss her again, pointedly ignoring the whispered speculation and gossip buzzing from my cousins. All I know is that I’m happier than I’ve been for as long as I can remember. And that’s good. I think.
Happiness can’t be a bad thing. It’s what people spend their lives chasing.
Except I never have.
THIRTY
Kate
I’ve tried to persuade Vincent to take off his shoes, but he isn’t having any of it. I’m not wasting the opportunity. I’ve never even seen the sea before, so while I’m here, I want to know what the sand feels like between my toes. It’s soft and silky and warm from the sun. I could stay here for hours, sinking my toes under the grains of million-year-old rocks and shells and then lifting them out, watching as my feet appear like a whale breaching the waves. It’s like magic.
I glance back. Vincent’s leaning against the sea wall, watching me, his sunglasses making him look cooler than usual—which is pretty hard, given Vincent’s at the top of the cool tree on a normal day.
“It feels wonderful,” I call.
He stands and takes off his glasses, squinting in the sunlight as he gazes more intently at me. Then he pulls off his trainers and socks and stalks toward me.
But he doesn’t stop when he gets to me. He scoops up my hand and pulls me out toward the waves.
“You changed your mind,” I say.
“You’ve never walked on a beach before.”
It’s not a question. We’re trading facts.
“We should go paddle,” he says.
I can’t help but smirk. Vincent Cove doesn’t strike me as a paddler.
“You paddle?” I ask. “I can’t imagine you doing much that’s just for fun.”
He raises his eyebrows, giving me a meaningful look. “You know that’s not true.”
“Well, apart from the sex stuff.”
“I’ll paddle. Today. For you.”
The sand turns colder and wet and hard. It feels like I’m walking through wet cement. “Is this quicksand?” I’m slightly concerned at the way our feet are sinking so quickly with every step we take.
“Just regular sand,” he says. He doesn’t look worried—like he’s definitely not concerned our lives could be endangered at any second. I guess I should trust him. He’s spent more time on beaches than I have, not that the bar is especially high.
I pause and glance down at my feet. Shells lie like confetti around us, smooth black rocks jutting out of the sand like they could be sleeping animals, napping on the ridged sand. “It’s like someone has drawn this.” I drop Vincent’s hand, bend and trace the ridges with my fingertip. I stand and turn, looking out to where the sand meets the waves and the water meets the sky. “It’s like someone designed this entire landscape to be completely perfect.”
I glance back at Vincent, who’s looking at me just the same way I’m looking at…everything.
“I think they did,” he says.
“Who did? God?”
“The universe. Nature. Time.”
To think I almost didn’t come here and see all this with my own eyes. It’s one thing to see things on a screen, but it’s a bargain-bin version of the solid gold reality. The salt breeze, the slippery wet stones, the cry of the gulls overhead, all set to the soundtrack of the waves inhaling and exhaling, constant as time itself. I needed to be here for it all to sink into my soul.
“I’m so lucky to be here.” I’m always grateful to be at Crompton. There’s not a day goes by that I take my life there for granted, but this…this is wonderful too.
Vincent wraps his arms around me, connecting us from head to toe. We both stare out at the waves. “I’m so lucky to be here.” He kisses me on the head and then we head out the few feet to the start of the water. I’m wearing a sundress that comes to my knees, but Vincent has his jeans rolled up to just above his ankle.
“Should we skinny dip?” I ask.
“Ask me again when you feel the frigid temperature.”
I laugh. “It might be fun.”
“I’ll take you to the Med or better, the Cayman Islands. Then we can skinny dip.”
My heart spins the same time as my stomach twists. The Med? The Cayman Islands? I’ve never gotten on a plane before the helicopter trip the other day. I suppose that’s Vincent’s life, always jetting from one place to another. He’s so completely different from me, I’m not sure how we ended up here together. But I can’t be sorry for as long as it lasts.