Chapter 31
DYSON
Her face is buried in my neck, her legs are wrapped around me, and she said she loves me. I’m holding her so tight, making sure this is real.
“Brown Eyed Girl” fades out, and the music stops. My heart is beating so hard that she can probably feel it through my chest.
“You’re trembling,” she whispers.
“So are you.”
She pulls back, and her eyes are red and swollen. Her face is a mess, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Where did you go?” she asks.
“New York. I had a board meeting that couldn’t happen over the phone.” I set her down but keep my hands on her waist. “I restructured my position. Gideon is running the day-to-day. I’ll be remote unless I’m needed in person.”
She blinks. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m staying.”
The tension from her shoulders melts away.
“I was rushing this morning and wrote you a note that I found in my bag. I was going to text you, but I lost my phone. I didn’t have your number memorized. I asked my assistant to call the B&B and leave a message,” I explain. “Clearly, you didn’t hear from me, and I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I thought you were gone.” Her voice is small. “I found the keys to your room on the counter, and I thought that was your answer.”
“My answer was always you. It’s been you since the day I walked into the B&B.” I hold her and let the silence do what words can’t.
The sun is low and gold, and the yard smells like grass and salt and the last hour of daylight.
“Walk with me,” I say.
She looks up. “Where?”
“Trust me.”
She takes my hand, and we walk toward the beach path. The sun moves closer to the horizon. Our bare feet leave tracks side by side, and I hold her hand tighter.
“The B&B was accepted as a historical designation,” she says after a few minutes.
“Yeah? That’s great news.”
“You did that. Why?”
“There’s magic in those walls. It’s worth saving. The night you showed me the guest book and postcards, I couldn’t sleep after. I started the application that week and focused on it between my books.”
She’s silent for a few steps. “Thank you.”
I squeeze her fingers, lifting them to my mouth, and kiss her knuckles. “I will help you however I can.”
The beach curves toward the far end of the island, and the lighthouse comes into view.
Around the base, the beach grass grows tall and wild.
The tower is narrow and weathered from decades of salt air.
The windows near the top are clouded. The iron hardware has gone green from the moisture.
It seems as if the island is trying to reclaim it.
Wendy slows when she sees it. The same look she gets when she talks about the B&B crosses her face. It’s tenderness, mixed with longing.
“Wow. It’s been years since I’ve been this close,” she says. “As teenagers, we used to sneak out here and have parties.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
She smiles up at it, and the last of the sunlight catches her profile. I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Want to go inside?” I ask.
“We can’t. That’s trespassing.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out a key ring. A mermaid key chain hangs from it, identical to the one she gave me sixty-three days ago. I found it at the liquor store in town.
She looks at the key ring. Then at me.
“Signed the paperwork as soon as I landed,” I say.
“Dyson.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“We own it.”
“We?” she repeats.
“I put your name on the title.” I reach into my pocket and hand her the second key I had made for her. “Renovations start next week on the lighthouse and the home. I’d love your thoughts and suggestions.”
The tears start, and they’re the good kind this time. She takes the key ring from my hand and holds it up. The silver mermaid shines.
“Is this real?” she asks.
“Better fucking be, or I’m going to be pissed when I wake up.”
Wendy laughs, glancing at me, then the lighthouse, and the key in her hand.
“Shall we?” I ask, reaching for her hand.
“Lead the way,” she says.
We move to the door.
“Do the honors.”
Wendy slides her key into the door, and it turns with a click. When it swings open, the smell of old wood rushes over us.
She gasps. “It’s beautiful.”
The circular room is bare stone with thick glass windows. A spiral staircase winds up through the center of the tower. Late sun pushes through the glass, filling the space with warm golden light that moves across the walls as the clouds shift outside.
Wendy walks the perimeter of the room, touching the walls with her fingertips. “Can we go up?”
“Absolutely.”
She takes the stairs first, and I follow behind her, watching her hand trail along the iron rail as we climb higher. The staircase curves tight around the center column. The higher we go, the more the light changes. When we step into the lantern room, the entire world opens up.
Wendy walks straight to the glass, and her hand presses flat against it. The ocean wraps around us in every direction. From up here, I can see the full length of Coconut Beach stretching north along the coast.
“Dyson …” Her voice is barely there. “This view …”
“I know,” I say, staring at her.
She moves along the glass, taking it in from every angle. When she reaches the western side, she smiles.
“The sun will set soon,” she says, grinning widely. “I’ve always wanted to experience this.”
Soon, it will touch the water, and night will fall.
The sunset is behind her, and the light wraps around her. My chest is so tight that I can barely breathe. I’ve closed deals worth billions without flinching. I’ve stared down boardrooms full of men twice my age and never broken eye contact. Right now, I can feel my pulse in my fingertips.
“Wendy.”
“Dyson,” she says.
I move closer to her. When I reach for her hands, mine shake. She looks down at my fingers and then back up at my face. As the sun drops, the room gets warmer, and I breathe until I can trust my voice.
“I came to this island because I was forced. I’m staying because of you. The moment our eyes met, my life changed. I knew then that you were the person for me. My soul knew you were it.”
A tear slides down her cheek.
I lower myself to one knee. Her grip on my hands tightens, and I can feel her pulse hammering through her fingers, matching mine.
“I choose you, Wendy Winslow. Every morning. Every evening. Every storm.” I let go of her hand long enough to pull the ring from my pocket.
It’s a princess-cut diamond on a platinum band, a classic, something she would wear.
“I know I can’t live without you. Wendy, please do me the greatest honor and marry me. Be my wife. Please choose me.”
She drops to her knees in front of me so we’re face-to-face on the floor. Her hands take my face, and her thumbs brush my cheeks. She’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that makes sense in her life.
“Yes,” she says, and her voice is steady even though her hands aren’t. “I choose you too, Dyson Carter Banks.”
I slide the ring onto her finger, and it takes two tries because my hands are useless.
She watches me fumble and giggles, but we’re both so fucking giddy that it doesn’t even matter.
When the ring is in place, she holds her hand up between us, and the diamond catches the last sliver of sunset.
Tiny reflections scatter across the walls.
Her arms loop around my neck, and I pull her in. Her lips find mine, and the whimper she lets out against me wrecks me.
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you happy,” I whisper.
“I want to make you just as happy,” she says across my lips.
“You already have,” I say.
When we pull apart, we’re both smiling so wide that it hurts. We stand.
“I love you,” she says.
“I love you too.”
We stay there, kissing and holding one another until the sun dips below the horizon. The gold fades, and stars appear through the glass above us. She leans her head against my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around her as we stare out at the ocean.
“This was never just another summer crush,” she says.
“No.” I press my lips against her hair and close my eyes. “It was everything.”