Chapter 27
AVERY
The morning is a gift.
I woke without nausea, a miracle in itself.
No cold sweat, no desperate scramble for the bathroom, no Nick hovering beside me with a cool cloth and that regretful look he tries to hide.
Instead, there was sunlight through the shuttered windows and his arms wrapped around me, our bodies pressed close after a night spent making love.
We showered together, then shared a quick breakfast before getting dressed for a day on the water.
I chose one of the sundresses I brought with me, tossing it over my bikini with my hair loose.
Now Nick’s hand holds mine as we walk to the dock where I see the Icarus already waiting for us.
It’s been moved from its mooring at some point and now bobs gently at the end of the long wooden dock.
Nick carries a large canvas tote slung over one shoulder, filled with sunscreen, water bottles, a light blanket, whatever else he packed for us.
He always handles the details, and I've learned to let him.
He's in a white linen button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, barefoot in tan linen pants.
The shirt hangs open at the collar, exposing the bronzed hollow of his throat.
As devastating as he is in a suit, this casual beach look is sexy as hell.
The Icarus’s white sails are furled, her hull gleaming in the morning light.
My heart lifts at the sight of her the way it always does.
This boat holds special meaning for us. It’s where Nick first took me sailing, where I learned to trust the tilt of the deck and the snap of canvas and the steady command of his deep voice calling out instructions.
It’s where, a year later, he dropped to one knee and asked me to be his wife.
And now, we’ll have another perfect day with her to add to our memories.
Before we reach the gangway, I realize the boat isn’t empty. Rusty’s on deck, doing something with the rigging. A flicker of disappointment moves through me. I'd been imagining the two of us alone on the water, sharing the day with no one else.
Nick feels my inner hesitation. His hand tightens around mine, thumb stroking the back of my knuckles.
"Rusty's captaining for us today." His voice is low, just for me. "That way I can focus my attention entirely on you."
The disappointment’s still there, but how can I argue when he puts it that way? Warmth curls through my belly at the quiet possessiveness in those words.
Rusty waves as we step aboard. "Beautiful day to be out on the water."
He's already turning back to the rigging with the tactful instinct he's shown all week, friendly but never intrusive.
Nick stows the tote below deck while I settle into the cushioned bench seat in the cockpit.
Rusty secures the lines then comes back and turns the key, bringing the engine to life with a low purr.
Then we begin to ease away from the dock.
I tilt my face toward the sun, closing my eyes and letting the motion of the boat and the warmth of the day seep into my bones.
Nick drops onto the seat beside me, close enough that his thigh presses against mine. His hand finds my knee. His thumb moves idly against the inside of my leg, and the heat of that touch threads through me, as comforting as it is arousing.
The day unfolds in impressions rather than events.
Morning sun on my skin. White sails billowing with warm sea air. The boat cutting through water so clear I can see the sandy bottom in the shallows, the shadow of the hull gliding over sea grass. Spray misting my face when the wind gusts with a sound like a held breath releasing.
And Nick beside me—always beside me, his hand a steadying presence on my thigh, my shoulder, the small of my back. Touching me as though proximity isn't enough. As if he needs the contact the way he needs air.
We have lunch with Rusty at anchor under the shade of the bimini, snacking on sandwiches and fruit packed by the resort kitchen.
Afterward, Nick and I swim off the stern in the afternoon heat.
The water is impossibly warm, impossibly clear.
He pulls me against him and kisses me with salt on both our lips, his hands spanning my waist beneath the surface, my legs wrapping around his hips.
The hard press of his erection against me is a torment for both of us, and if not for Rusty’s presence, I know Nick and I would have spent a good amount of time naked in the cabin.
By late afternoon, the sky begins its slow turn toward sunset. Blue deepening at the edges, the first threads of gold weaving into the horizon. The kind of light that makes the water look lit from within, everything glowing as if the world is holding a candle behind a silk screen.
Nick's energy shifts as the day winds down. It's subtle enough that anyone else would miss it. But I've spent years learning the language of his body, and I notice the way his gaze keeps drifting toward the bow, then back to me.
When he notices me watching him, he smiles. But there's something behind it I can't quite reach. A brightness, almost nervous, an anticipatory quality that doesn't match his usual controlled stillness.
He reaches behind one of the bench cushions and retrieves something. I can’t see what it is, and he holds it at his back with one hand.
"Come with me," he says, his voice low.
We make our way forward, past the mast, to the bow where the deck opens up wide and the bowsprit points toward the horizon like an arrow aimed at forever.
The sky is painting itself in pastels now, rose and coral and liquid gold bleeding into each other above the waterline, and the sun hovering just above the sea.
It’s the kind of sunset that stops your heart.
The kind that makes my fingers itch for a paintbrush even though I know no pigment on earth could capture the way the light is dissolving the boundary between water and sky.
I turn to share it with him and find he’s lowered himself to one knee.
For a disorienting second, I don't understand. We're already engaged. The stunning diamond ring he gave me is on my finger, where it’s been for over a year.
"Nick, what are you—"
He brings out the box he’s carrying. It’s flat and larger than his handspan, a deep-red velvet jewelry box that looks beyond expensive.
My heart starts to pound.
He opens it.
Twin strands of pearls rest inside, lustrous, perfect, stacked together in an elegant choker. At the center, where they meet, a diamond infinity symbol holds them together. The stones catch the dying light and fracture it into tiny stars.
My breath leaves me in a shaky sigh.
Pearls. Everything they've meant to us—the intimacy, the trust, the first time he bound my wrists with a delicate strand like these and taught me that surrender could be its own kind of freedom. Surrender to him, because he would always keep me safe.
"I had this made for you." His voice is steady, controlled. But I see the faint tremor in his fingers as he holds the box. Even now. Even after everything we’ve been through together, now he's nervous. "This was going to be one of your wedding gifts."
"One of them?"
He gives me that half-smile I love, the one that creases the left side of his mouth and brings out the dimple few people ever get to see. Then he’s serious again, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that pins me in place.
"The two strands are us. You and me. Everything we've been through to get here.
" He lifts the necklace from the velvet, the pearls glistening like captured moonlight.
"And this—" His thumb brushes the diamond infinity symbol.
"This is my promise to you, Avery. You've owned me heart and soul from day one, but in case you ever have any doubt…
I'm in this forever. Longer than forever, if I have anything to say about it. "
He rises to kiss me—brief, fierce, a seal on a promise—and then he's moving behind me, lifting my hair, fastening the pearls around my neck. They're cool against my throat at first, then they warm to my skin, becoming part of me the way he is.
His lips brush the nape of my neck where the clasp rests. A shiver of sensation runs the length of my spine.
He comes back around to face me, and those cerulean eyes I fell into and never found my way out of are filled with emotion now. So tender and open I can hardly breathe.
"Marry me, angel. Right here. Right now."
I can't speak. My breath is locked in my breast. Tears are sliding down my cheeks, and I didn't even feel them start. The sunset blazes behind him and everything I thought I knew about this day rearranges itself into a shape I never saw coming.
"But the wedding,” I begin. “Everyone is expecting—"
"That wedding is for them." He cups my face in his hands. His thumbs sweep the tears from my cheeks with devastating gentleness. "This one is just for us."
Just for us.
No cameras. No guests. No security details or a single expectation beyond the ones we make together. So this is what he's been planning. The secretive looks. The conversations with Rusty that went quiet when I walked in. The Icarus, brought here and waiting.
All of it. For this.
"Yes." The word breaks out of me, half-laugh, half-sob. "Yes. Obviously yes. A thousand times yes."
When I turn back, Rusty is already stepping forward.
He knew. Of course he knew. Nick planned everything. The realization washes through me—every detail of the past four days calibrated to lead here. The timing. The setting. The man who's been captaining this boat all afternoon, waiting for his cue.
Rusty's easy-going casualness is still there, but now there's a quiet solemnity beneath it. A weight he's carrying with care.
“Is this for real?” I have to know. “Will it be legal?”