29. Anika
— ? —
Anika
The private beach was Neil’s idea.
He’d been planning something for days, I could tell. Whispered phone calls. Mysterious errands. A nervous energy that made him pace even more than usual.
I let him have his secrets. After everything we’d been through, he’d earned the right to surprise me.
The car dropped us at the edge of a cliff as the sun was beginning to set. A path wound down through wild grasses and sea flowers, ending at a crescent of sand that glowed golden in the fading light.
And on the sand, someone had built a dream.
Candles lined the path from the cliff to the water, hundreds of them, flickering in glass holders that caught the light like stars. A table was set near the shoreline, white linen and champagne and flowers I couldn’t name. Beyond it, a blanket spread across the sand, piled with pillows.
“Neil,” I breathed.
“I know it’s excessive.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“That too.”
He led me down the path, his hand warm in mine. The candles cast dancing shadows across his face, and for a moment he looked like the boy I’d fallen in love with. Young. Completely unguarded.
We sat at the table. He poured champagne while the sun slipped lower.
“I have something for you,” he said.
“More than this?”
“Much more.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folder. Set it on the table between us.
I recognized it immediately. The divorce papers. The ones I’d filed months ago, a lifetime ago, when I’d been so sure our marriage was over.
“I signed them,” he said.
My heart stopped. “What?”
“I signed them. If you want them. If you decide this isn’t working, if you decide I’m not worth the effort, if you decide you’d be happier without me…” He pushed the folder toward me. “They’re ready. You don’t have to fight for it. You don’t have to convince me. You just have to ask.”
I stared at the folder. At his signature on the last page, visible through the clear cover.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I want you to stay because you choose to. Not because the legal process is too complicated. Not because it’s easier to stay than to leave.” He met my eyes. “I want to earn you, Anika. Every day. For the rest of my life. And that means giving you the freedom to walk away.”
I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to process the magnitude of what he was offering.
Then he pulled out a small box.
“But before you decide,” he said, “I have one more thing.”
He opened it. Inside was a ring. Not the massive diamond he’d given me eight years ago, the one that had been more about status than sentiment. This one was simple. A band of gold with a single stone, perfectly cut, catching the last of the sunset light.
“This is me asking to marry you again,” he said. “When I know what it costs. When I know how hard it is. When I know all the ways I can fail and all the reasons you should say no.”
He slid out of his chair. Knelt in the sand beside me.
“I promise to show up every day. Phone in a drawer. Ask about your work and actually listen to the answers. Be with you on Sunday mornings. Remember both our anniversaries. Especially April third.”
His voice cracked on the last words.
“Will you marry me again, Anika? Will you let me spend the rest of my life earning the right to stand next to you?”
I looked at him. At this man who had broken my heart and spent months putting it back together. Who had pulled weeds and learned to sit still and written pages of honesty because he didn’t know what else to do.
“Yes,” I said.
I picked up the divorce papers and tore them in half. Then in half again. Threw the pieces into the wind and watched them scatter across the beach like confetti.
He slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
Then he kissed me, and the world disappeared.
We ended up on the blanket as the stars came out.
This wasn’t like the other times. Not trying to prove anything or escape anything or make up for anything.
This was slow. Every touch a conversation. Every kiss a promise.
He undressed me like I was precious. Like I was something sacred. His hands traced paths across my skin that he’d traced a thousand times before, but it felt new. It felt like the first time.
“I love you,” he said against my throat.
“Show me.”
He did.
He worshipped every inch of me. Took his time. Made me gasp and moan and beg for things I couldn’t name. And when he finally slid inside me, we both went still.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he said.
I looked. His eyes were dark in the candlelight, but I could see everything in them. The love. The fear. The overwhelming gratitude.
He moved slowly at first, building. Our bodies found a rhythm that felt like coming home.
The stars wheeled overhead. The waves crashed against the shore. And we made love on a beach surrounded by candles, starting over with our eyes wide open.
When we finally fell over the edge together, he held me like he was afraid I’d disappear.
“I’ll spend my whole life earning this,” he said against my hair.
“I know.” I pressed a kiss to his chest. “That’s why I said yes.”