Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Lily woke to the familiar sensation of Alex's arm draped across her waist.
For the past week, her mornings had followed a new ritual: waking tangled in sheets that smelled like salt and him, listening to his steady breathing, and pretending she was still asleep just to enjoy the strange domesticity of it all.
The coffee maker gurgled. She felt the mattress shift as Alex slipped out of bed. A cabinet opened and closed. His footsteps crossed the wooden floor—pausing, she noticed, at the edge of the bed.
Was he watching her sleep? The thought should have been creepy. Instead, it sent a warm flutter through her chest.
You've got it bad, St. John.
She had. That was the problem.
The end of her time on the island loomed over her like a jury delivering the verdict on their little escapade.
They'd agreed to stay present. To not think about what came next. But "not thinking about it" was proving significantly harder than she'd anticipated.
She heard him step onto the porch, the screen door creaking shut behind him. Only then did she open her eyes, staring at the ceiling while her mind raced through options.
She could bring it up. Corner him and demand they make a plan for what happened after.
Or she could do what they'd agreed—stay present, protect the bubble they'd built, and deal with reality when reality forced the issue.
More filming, she decided, throwing off the thin blanket. Keep capturing this place, this work, this version of Alex that the world deserves to see. Give yourself something to focus on besides the way the countdown makes your chest ache.
It wasn't a great plan. But it was a plan.
When Lily finally padded out to the porch, she found Alex already there—coffee in hand, staring at the ocean with the kind of intensity that suggested he was either solving complex equations or actively avoiding his feelings.
Given the past week, she was betting on the latter.
He didn't turn when the screen door creaked.
Didn't acknowledge her presence at all, actually, which was interesting given that twenty minutes ago he'd been very much acknowledging her presence.
His shoulders were tight, his jaw set in that way she'd come to recognize as Alex Carmichael is thinking too hard about something he doesn't want to think about.
She knew the feeling.
"Morning," she said, moving to stand beside him.
He turned, and something flickered across his face—want, maybe, or fear, or some complicated cocktail of both—before his expression smoothed into careful neutrality.
"Morning." His voice came out rougher than usual. "Coffee's ready."
"You're a saint." She crossed to him first, rising on her toes to press a kiss to his jaw. His hand came up automatically, fingers brushing her hip, and she felt the slight hitch in his breathing before she stepped away toward the kitchen.
He's pulling back, she thought, pouring her coffee. Preparing for the end.
She couldn't blame him. She'd been doing the same thing all morning—savoring stolen moments, storing up sensory details against the emptiness to come.
The way he made her coffee without asking.
The warmth of his body curved around hers in sleep.
The sound of his laugh, rare and real, when she caught him off guard.
The problem was, preparation wasn't helping. If anything, it was making everything worse.
She emerged with her mug cradled between both hands, studying him through the steam.
He was watching her now, his blue eyes unreadable, and she wondered what he saw.
The sunny influencer? The woman he'd been sleeping with?
Or the messy, complicated person underneath who was falling harder than she'd ever planned?
"So," she said, forcing brightness into her voice. "What's on the research agenda today?"
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly—safe territory, research. She could practically see him grabbing onto the topic like a lifeline.
"I need to check the coral formations on the western reef. The spawning cycle should be starting soon, and I want to document the timing."
"Coral spawning?" Her eyebrows rose. "That sounds... intimate."
The corner of his mouth twitched—almost a smile. Progress.
"It's actually fascinating. Once a year, usually triggered by the full moon, entire reef systems release their eggs and sperm simultaneously. The water turns cloudy with it. It's one of the most spectacular events in marine biology."
There he was. The Alex who lit up when talking about his work, whose passion burned through all the walls he tried to build. This was the version of him she'd fallen for—the one she was terrified of losing.
"You had me at 'spectacular.'" She grinned over the rim of her mug, pushing down the ache in her chest. "Can I come? Bring the waterproof camera?"
He didn't hesitate. "Fine. But you follow my lead out there. The currents near the western reef can be unpredictable."
"Sir, yes sir." She snapped a salute.
And there it was—a real smile, small but genuine, softening the hard lines of his face.
I’m leaving soon, the voice in her head reminded her.
Then, make every moment count, she told it back.
The western reef was a forty-minute swim from the main beach, and by the time they reached it, Lily's arms were burning in the best possible way.
She'd never considered herself particularly athletic—her exercise routine consisted mainly of yoga and Pilates classes she attended for the aesthetic and walks to trendy coffee shops—but two weeks of island life had changed something in her body.
She was stronger now. More capable. Less afraid of exertion.
Alex would probably say the ocean is doing exactly what it's supposed to do, she thought, watching him cut through the water ahead of her with the ease of someone who belonged there. Stripping away the unnecessary. Revealing what's real.
And wasn't that the terrifying truth of it? This island—this man—had stripped away more than just her physical softness. They'd peeled back the careful layers she'd built over six years of performing for cameras, exposing something raw and vulnerable underneath.
Something that felt dangerously like her actual self.
Alex glanced back, treading water, and she caught the flash of concern on his face before she waved him off.
"I'm fine! Just admiring the view."
"The reef's that direction." He pointed ahead.
"I know what I said."
Even from ten feet away, she could see his ears redden. God, she loved that she could still make him blush after everything they'd done together. It felt like a superpower.
They reached the reef edge, and Alex signaled for her to check her equipment. Camera sealed? Check. Mask secure? Check. Fins adjusted? Check.
He caught her eye, held up three fingers, then two, then one—
They dove.
The reef below was a kaleidoscope of color—purples and oranges and electric blues that seemed to glow in the filtered sunlight. Fish darted between coral formations, some curious enough to approach her camera lens, others fleeing at the sight of the large, bubble-blowing intruders.
Lily had filmed in some beautiful places.
Crystal caves in Mexico. Northern lights in Iceland.
High cliffs and waterfalls. But there was something different about seeing the world through Alex's eyes.
Every rock formation told a story. Every fish had a purpose.
Every swaying piece of seaweed played a role in something larger than itself.
He made her see things differently. That was the problem.
Alex gestured for her to follow, leading her toward a section of branching coral that looked different from the rest—fuller, somehow, the polyps extended and reaching toward the surface like thousands of tiny fingers.
He pointed, then made a gesture she'd learned meant watch closely.
Lily trained her camera on the coral, not sure what she was looking for. For a long moment, nothing happened. The water was still. The fish continued their endless patrols. Her lungs began to burn with the need for air.
Then—
A cloud. A tiny, shimmering cloud of something releasing from the coral into the water, catching the light like underwater snow. Then another. And another. Until the entire formation was exhaling these delicate plumes of life into the current.
It was, without question, one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.
She looked at Alex, eyes wide behind her mask, and found him watching her instead of the coral. Even underwater, even with half his face obscured, she could see his smile.
He wanted me to see this, she realized, something cracking open in her chest. He wanted to share this with me.
This wasn't just a research trip anymore. This wasn't just documentation or professional curiosity. He was letting her into his world—the world he'd built specifically to keep people out.
This is what it could be like, she thought suddenly, the fantasy unfurling before she could stop it. Traveling together. Him showing me the hidden wonders. Me helping the world see them. Partners in work and life and—
Stop it. Stop it right now.
She shoved the thought down hard, forcing herself to focus on the camera. On the footage. On anything except the dangerous hope blooming in her chest.
She was so distracted that she didn't notice the current shift until it was too late.
One moment she was hovering in place, camera steady, watching the coral continue its ancient ritual.
The next, an invisible force grabbed her—strong as hands, cold as fear—and pulled.
Lily's arms pinwheeled, camera forgotten, as she tried to fight her way back toward the surface. But the current was relentless, dragging her sideways and down toward a gap in the reef formation where the water funneled into something fast and dangerous.
Don't panic don't panic don't panic—
She was panicking.