Chapter 4 One day before the wedding
One day before the wedding
Mei: It’s the final countdown! Are you so excited?!?
Sara: Yeah. See you tonight.
When I wake up, the first thing I do is peek over the edge of the bunk. But Beckett’s bed is empty, just as it was the night before when I went to sleep. I didn’t hear him come in, and it doesn’t look as if his bed was slept in.
I flop on my back with a sigh.
Tonight is the rehearsal dinner, tomorrow the wedding. I’m not sure what happened between Sara and Beckett yesterday, but it clearly wasn’t good. I ate dinner on my own, huddled at the hotel bar, hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew. I have no idea what the rest of the crew got up to.
I climb down from my bunk with careful steps. If Beckett decided to find another room, the least he could have done is tell me I no longer needed to take the top.
According to Sara’s latest significantly less enthusiastic group text, we don’t have anywhere to be until tonight. So I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and change into my bathing suit, figuring I can go scrounge up some breakfast and figure out a plan.
The bedroom door opens right as I’m exiting the bathroom, still tying the strings on my hot-pink bikini top.
Beckett freezes when he sees me, his eyes going wide.
“Hi,” I choke out, knotting the top tighter than comfortable in my haste to make sure I don’t accidentally flash him.
“Hi,” he responds, his voice gravelly and hoarse. His eyes drag over my body, and I feel his gaze like it’s a gentle caress.
I reach for my cover-up, tugging it over my head. “I wasn’t sure if you changed rooms or something.”
He shakes his head, his jaw visibly clenched. “I just needed some time.”
I nod. “Of course.” I hoist my bag over my shoulder. “Well, I’ll just head out and give you some space.”
His hand loops around my upper arm before I can pass him and escape. “Do you want to go to the beach with me?”
My skin burns where he touches me, and I have to swallow before I can form words. “Um, sure.” So much for forming words, I guess.
“Give me a minute to change.”
I nod, not wanting to risk my voice cracking or something equally embarrassing.
Beckett ducks into the bathroom, and I force myself not to think about how, in order to put on his bathing suit, he has to take off all his other clothes.
He emerges a minute later, dressed in flower-print trunks and a plain white T-shirt.
Our suite has direct access to the beach, so it doesn’t take long before I’m slipping off my sandals and letting my feet sink in the soft, warm sand.
The sun is already high in the sky, sparkling off the crystal-clear water like diamonds.
We find two lounge chairs with an umbrella, and as soon as we sit, I take out the sunscreen. I was not blessed with the Thatchers’ prone-to-tan-not-burn skin, and I slather myself with it religiously.
“Want me to get your back?” Beckett asks as he finishes spraying himself with sunblock of his own.
“Sure.” I hand him the bottle and turn my back to him. His hands land on the bare skin of my upper back, and I have to stifle a gasp. “Feels like we’re in the beginning of a cheesy porno,” I joke and then both mentally and physically cringe.
Beckett laughs, the warmth of his breath tickling the hair at the nape of my neck. “Why do I feel like there’s no safe response to that?”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His hands travel lower, smoothing lotion over the skin right above my bathing suit bottoms, his thumbs digging into the tight muscles of my lower back for longer than necessary. “All done.”
I finally breathe when his hands drop from my skin. “Thanks.” I take the bottle back from him, tucking it into my bag. I wait for the lotion to absorb and for my face to relax and for my nipples to unharden before settling back into my chair.
Beckett mirrors my position, legs extended and crossed at the ankle.
Neither of us says anything, but the silence isn’t awkward.
“I’d like to see you. When we’re back in New York.”
I feel his gaze boring into the side of my face before I turn my head to meet those brilliant green eyes. “Okay. It would be nice to hang out.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to hang out, Goose. I want to take you out on a date.”
A small smile tugs on my lips. “I’m pretty sure you can’t call me Goose as you’re asking me out.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough. Lucy, would you be so kind as to join me on a date at your convenience?”
I purse my lips, holding back a shriek of joy but also giving myself time to fully consider. I just got Sara back, and even though things between us are still mega tense, I know I want us to have the chance to repair our friendship. “Is there any part of you that thinks maybe Sara had it right?”
“No.”
I stare at him for a minute. “That’s it?”
“It was a simple question. I understand where she was coming from, but no part of what Sara did was right.”
“But what if we date and it doesn’t work out?”
“Then how would we be any worse off than we have been for the past ten years?” Beckett sits up, swinging his legs around so they’re firmly planted in the sand separating our chairs.
“I like you, Lucy. I realize it’s been ten years and I don’t really know you anymore, but I do know who you are at your core.
And I want to get to know this new you, this grown-up version. If you’ll let me.” He offers his hand.
I take it, slipping our fingers together. “I would like that.”
He brings our joined hands to his mouth, brushing a light kiss over my skin. “Good.”