Chapter 27
SCARLETT
The sound of waves crashing against the shore should be soothing, but all I can focus on is the cursor blinking on my laptop screen.
It mocks me, reminding me I have so much more to write and a deadline that’s quickly approaching.
I’m standing on a metaphorical train track, looking at the light at the end of the tunnel, except I’m not moving toward it; the thing is barreling straight at me.
I’m supposed to be writing.
But when I glance up, I can’t help but watch Ezra head toward the water, shirtless. His tattooed arm catches the sunlight, and I bite my lip as he dives into the waves.
“Focus, Scarlett,” I mutter to myself, forcing my eyes back to the screen.
Jordan stood at the edge of the cliff, wind whipping through his already messy hair. Helena had made her choice, and now he had to make his—
My phone buzzes against the wooden deck table, interrupting my flow.
I ignore it.
Then it buzzes again.
And again.
“What’s so important?” I snatch it up, ready to silence it, but that’s when I notice the notifications from Instagram.
My stomach drops as I scroll. Most are from my author friends congratulating me, a few are from my agent, and one is from my editor with about fifteen exclamation points. Everyone seems ecstatic about this relationship and my new book, and truthfully, I am, too.
For once, I’m with someone who can navigate this public space better than me, someone who supports me being in the spotlight and isn’t jealous of it.
As I scroll my DMs, there’s a message from someone I haven’t seen in my inbox in over a year.
Jason Burkly. My ex.
My finger hovers over it and curiosity wins out. I tap the screen.
Jason
Hey. Saw the news. You look great, Scar. Hope you’ve been well.
I roll my eyes.
Another message pops up immediately.
Jason
Would love to catch up over coffee and talk.
I scoff, finding this renewed interest hilarious. After everything, I can’t believe he has the audacity to make it seem like we split on amicable terms. We didn’t. He cheated. And he tried to sue for half of the royalties for a book I wrote when we were together.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say out loud.
“You’re supposed to be working.” Ezra’s voice makes me jump. He’s standing at the bottom of the deck stairs, water dripping from his hair and running down his abs.
“I am. Well, I was.” I try to compose myself but fail.
He climbs the stairs, leaving wet footprints on the wood as he moves toward me. He smells like the ocean and sunshine. “What’s that particular look for?”
“What look?” I ask.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ezra says.
I smile. “Oh, Jason wants to meet up with me.”
Ezra bursts into laughter. “Really? That’s very convenient, considering.”
“I thought so, too,” I admit.
He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Do you want me to meet him?”
“Hell no.” My brows furrow as a sarcastic laugh escapes my lips. “He’s the last man on this planet I want. Been there, done that, and all I got was relationship trauma.”
“Want me to tell him to fuck off, and that you’re busy falling in love?”
My heart does a little flip at the way he casually says things like that. Most men aren’t emotionally stable enough to discuss the four-letter word. Ezra owns it like love is the most natural thing in the world. I feel lucky.
“As tempting as it is to rub it in his face that I’m over him, I’ll ignore it. If I give him an inch, Jason will take a plane to see me.”
“You say that like he’s done it.”
“He has.” I glance out at the ocean, remembering what happened. “A few months before we broke up, I was at a conference in Paris. There was a photo of me having a glass of wine with a book cover model, and it was posted online. Jason got wildly jealous, so he flew there to surprise me.”
Ezra stares at me. “Did he not trust you?”
This question makes me laugh. “I asked the same question because that’s a logical response. I think he was projecting. He had been cheating at that point. You know,” I say, releasing a long breath, “I don’t think I want to talk about him anymore. Jason really doesn’t matter.”
“Agreed.” Water droplets slide down his chest, and I reach out to touch him.
Ezra’s blue eyes flutter closed when my fingertips brush against his abs. “I’d ask you to join me in the shower, but you need to write new words.”
“I am writing!” I protest.
“Really?” He leans over my shoulder, reading my screen. “Pretty sure you only wrote one new sentence since I left for my swim almost thirty minutes ago.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Okay, but I was thinking about it.”
“Uh-huh.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Write, gorgeous.”
After he disappears inside, I turn back to my laptop with a renewed sense of determination. I can do this. I only have four or five more chapters, and that’s it. In the grand scheme of the project, that’s absolutely nothing.
My fingers fly across the keyboard as Jordan’s internal monologue pours out.
The push and pull between fear and desire, the vulnerability of letting someone see the broken pieces, the terrifying leap of faith that comes with saying I love you and meaning it with your whole heart, just pours out of me.
I’m writing my true feelings, all of them, without holding back.
I figuratively bleed onto the page, and while sometimes it’s exhausting to dig so deep, it comes easily now, which I appreciate.
I’m so in the zone that I don’t notice the sun setting until Ezra returns, showered, and dressed in soft cotton shorts and a T-shirt that clings to his fit body.
“How’s it going?” he asks, setting a glass of wine on the table next to me. “This is for you.”
I glance at my word count and gasp. “I wrote three thousand words. I know I keep saying it, but I’m so close.”
“Proud of you.” He settles onto the lounge chair, sipping from his glass. “I’m just going to read. Don’t mind me.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I playfully say.
“I’m just enjoying the sunset with my girlfriend while she does her thing.” He opens a book—my debut novel—and starts reading.
“Girlfriend, huh?” I ask as butterflies flutter through me. I want to hear him say it.
“Fuck yeah. You’re mine, Scarlett. For as long as you’ll have me.”
Warmth spreads through me.
“And what if I decide that’s forever?” I ask, picking up my wine and drinking. It’s light, strawberry, I think.
“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” He smirks, crossing his ankles, looking so damn beautiful while that relaxed.
Our eyes lock, and I drown in his baby blues.
“You say such things like you have nothing to lose,” I whisper.
“Tomorrow is never promised. I won’t live my life regretting things I never said,” he mutters. “Now shh. I’m reading my favorite author.”
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” I admit.
“And you never will again.” He gives me that lazy grin, then returns to his book. “Stop looking at me like that and go back to writing. One more hour, then we’ll take a break. Okay?”
“Ugh,” I groan, but I love how he put himself as the prize at the end of the finish line.
I force myself to look away before I shut my laptop and say screw it. I dive back into my manuscript, wanting to finish. Every few minutes, I hear him turning pages as my fingers fly across the keys.
When Ezra’s alarm sounds, the sky has turned deep purple, and I’ve written another thousand words. My neck aches, and my fingers are cramping, but I only have two more chapters and an epilogue, then I’m finished.
“Done for the day?” Ezra asks, noticing I’ve stopped typing.
“Yeah. I thought I’d be able to finish, but my brain is done. I can’t give anymore.” I close the screen and stretch, feeling relief as my spine pops. “What should we do for dinner?”
“Each other.” He stands and offers me his hand, holding my book in his other hand.
“Really?” I ask with a snicker.
“I thought I’d make us some fish. I have a mean lemon butter sauce recipe.” He pulls me into his arms. “But I do want you for dessert.”
I nod against his chest, breathing in the scent of his soap. “Great. Warning though, I’m an all-you-can-eat meal.”
“Babe, that’s music to my ears.” His hands slide down to rest on my lower back as our eyes meet. “Can’t wait to worship you.”
“Mm. I actually can’t wait for that, too.” My stomach growls.
“See? You need food,” he says, because he heard it.
We move inside, and I settle at the bar top in the kitchen while Ezra pulls ingredients from the fridge. He moves with an easy confidence, chopping garlic and heating a pan with some butter.
He casually pours more wine into my glass while he works at the stovetop.
“Your existence gives me hope for women,” I say with a laugh. “I’ve always been a hopeless romantic at heart, and you’re like one of my characters.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Ezra chuckles. “I’m sorry the men you were with before were pieces of shit. You know the saying ‘there are plenty of fish in the sea’?”
“Yeah,” I say, chuckling.
“We’re proof of that. But I dunno if I can be habituated into a world where you don’t exist, Scarlett,” he says.
“I know what you mean,” I say, understanding completely. “You’re unforgettable.”
Ezra grins as he pulls two plates from the cabinet. “Ahh. Well. So are you.”
His face softens, and he briefly steps away from the stovetop and moves beside me. Ezra tucks loose strands of hair behind my ear before he kisses me gently. My eyes close, and I take in what it feels like to slide my lips against his and to taste the sweet wine on his tongue.
“What was that for?” I whisper.
Ezra smiles against my lips. “You looked like you needed it.”
We sit at the bar top and eat fish and a steamed vegetable medley he prepared.
Afterward, Ezra grabs the wine bottle and loops his fingers in mine, leading me outside. The warm summer air hits my face, and I inhale the smell of salt and seaweed. All I can do is smile because I don’t have a care in the world.