Chapter Twenty-Nine
twenty-nine
adrian
I wake up with Hope in my arms, and I never want this moment to end. Without a moment to pinpoint the demise of our relationship, it wasn’t until almost a year after she left that I woke up, sweating and breathing hard from a nightmare, and realized I’d never hold her again. Never spend hours talking with her. Laughing and kissing and loving each other.
Something I once took for granted, now all the more precious. With dawn, last night’s conversation feels like fantasy, but the gold necklace resting against her heart lets me know it was real. We’re giving each other a second chance. I won’t have to hold myself back around her or try to dam my feelings.
But daybreak also brings more mundane realities—texts from Gabe, requests to collaborate, and unread emails in my university account. One-handed, I type out replies. Hope stirs and tips up her chin, catching my eye.
“Are you working right now?”
I lay the phone facedown. “Sorry—”
“Don’t be.” She lays her head against my chest again, burrowing in. “This is the life you’ve worked for. I’m still in awe of you.”
Her shoulders drop, and she shifts with sleepy warmth, sliding against me, and I tuck my arms around her. “I never thought we’d have moments like this again,” she says, so quietly I have to duck my head to catch her words. “The thing is, what I feel for you is not quantifiable, but the pull is so strong. Even when I thought I couldn’t stand you, I wound up here.”
“Did you really think you couldn’t stand me?”
She shakes her head, cheek gliding against my bare chest. “I couldn’t understand why I loved you so much. That’s why I didn’t trust it.”
“Do you have to? We can’t see currents, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”
“No, but their effects are measurable. We can collect data, run experiments.”
“I’m up for that.” I squeeze her hip. “What sort of experiments did you have in mind?”
She squirms, giggling. “I was being serious.”
“So am I. I never joke about science.”
Shoulders still shaking with quiet laugher, she relaxes against me. “I don’t need a test to know how I feel about you is real. But if I did, the last three years was it. The moment I saw you again I knew all my efforts to forget you were hopeless.”
I let out a groan, covering my forehead with my arm. “How long have you been holding out to use that one?”
She presses a kiss to my chest. “It’s true.”
I wrap my arms around her, molding our bodies close. “ This is true.” I kiss her hairline, right above her temple. “I’ve wanted to be with you every moment since you left, and my only regret is waiting for you to fall back into my life instead of coming to Michigan to tell you how much you mean to me.”
“We’re not playing the what-if game, remember?” Her thumb rubs my knuckle, soft and comforting. “We’re together now, that’s what matters.”
Wind stirs the oak trees overhead outside my window, spreading dappled sunlight on the comforter, but we fall silent. Her breathing steadies and slows, and my eyes drift closed. Then my phone chimes twice in rapid succession. I hasten to silence it, but Hope’s blinking at me.
“Just notifications on my socials.”
She rakes her fingers backward through her tousled hair. “I know you say you’re not famous, though I’m sure your followers would disagree. But how does this go, dating someone with such a public job?” Her tone is light, but underneath I know she’s thinking about the lack of privacy in my online life. “Does this mean our life is going to become a reality show?”
I like how she said “our life.” “In terms of the channel, nothing needs to change.” When her brows shoot up, I hasten to add, “What the public sees, I mean. We don’t owe them the details of our private life. That’s not what my platform is about. I share my personal life to connect with people, but I don’t give anything close to everything.”
“You don’t plan to tell your fans you’re taken?” I can’t tell if she’s asking because she’s worried I will or hurt that I wouldn’t.
“It’s up to you if and when we share. But I don’t see any reason to do it right away.”
“Good point. I’m taking the most eligible shark scientist off the market,” she teases, though her body is tense. “I don’t want the internet to turn on you.”
“Internet users,” I say automatically.
“What?” Her eyes narrow at the non sequitur.
“The internet. It’s the vehicle by which information is shared and communicated, it’s incapable of conscious action. What you’re referring to are internet users—”
“Adrian.”
I bite my lip, embarrassed at getting carried away. “Sorry.”
She grins at me. “Don’t be. It’s adorable when you’re literal.” To prove it, she rises on an elbow and kisses me, deeply.
Long moments later, Hope’s cheek is pressed to my collarbone, my arm around her shoulders, and I return to our conversation. “Workplace-wise, we’ll need to tell Marissa and Gabe. Sign some documents. I want to make sure you’re protected. That your job is separate from us.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“I’m not worried, but it’s important to me. You’re important.” I kiss her again, and when I pull away, she shakes her head.
“Gosh, Marissa is going to be insufferable.”
Up until now, Hope and I have barely brushed shoulders at work. So even though we discussed the need to be open about our relationship with Gabe and Marissa, I’m still shocked when she drops her backpack and wraps me in a tight hug the morning we meet to help with cleanup at the marina.
Gabe is already aboard the boat, sorting through camera equipment. He plans to document the community’s efforts and help raise money for local charities working to support people whose homes were damaged in the storm.
“Felt good to see this boat in one piece.” He claps me on the shoulder. “And you, of course.”
Marissa is kneeling by the tap on the dock, filling a bucket with sudsy water. “Gabe’s got to get the equipment set up, but what’s your excuse for not pitching in yet?” she asks Hope, with a gleam in her eye. Clearly, she knows what’s up.
I raise my hand, then drop it, feeling like a fool. “Before we get on with things, there’s something we need to tell you.”
Marissa’s brows hitch up and she cranks off the water. Next to me, Hope is stiff, but when I look her way, she smiles and says, “Adrian and I are in a relationship.”
Marissa blinks. I look over and find Gabe tapping at his phone screen.
I clear my throat. “Did you hear Hope? We’re dating.”
Nothing. No reaction.
The silence thins and Gabe glances up. “Wait, is this supposed to be news?”
“Uh, yes.” I meet Hope’s gaze and she looks equally perplexed. “We just wanted to be transparent about it, since we’re all—”
“In this boat together?” Marissa says, and Gabe offers her a fist bump, which she accepts with a straight face, and he laughs. “Look at you, fully onboard with the puns. One Parker down, one to go.”
“In your dreams,” I tell him, but he seems unfazed.
“Permission to speak freely?” Gabe asks, then plows on, because it’s obviously a given. “It was weird when you two weren’t a thing. On paper, I mean. All the latent, unresolved, palpable tension.” I bristle at his deliberate pile-up of adjectives. “This is an improvement.”
I stiffen. “This has been an uncomfortable work environment for you?”
Gabe shakes his head. “Nah, man. This has been an uncomfortable work environment for you .” Hope lets out a laugh, and he looks her way with a sly grin. “I’m just glad you’re finally making an honest man out of our captain here.”
My skin prickles with embarrassed heat, but Gabe’s good-natured teasing really isn’t unexpected.
“If anything, it’s been fun to speculate on when this would happen.”
“My money was on the end of the season, but that power outage really swept things along,” Marissa says. Great, my ally against puns has been pulled to the evil side.
“You bet on our relationship? With Gabe?”
“What? No.” Gabe pulls a face. “Not with actual money. That would be crass.”
“Iced lattes,” Marissa says with no hint of remorse.
“Frozen ones. The kind with whipped cream on top.” Gabe catches sight of my glare and desists, but Marissa elbows me.
“Oh, lighten up.” She hoists the sudsy bucket. “We’re happy for you. Right, Gabe?”
He nods. “Suffice it to say you two like each other in a touchy-feely, non-platonic way?” He looks to Hope, then myself, for confirmation, and when he gets it, slaps a hand on the bench. “Meeting adjourned?”
Marissa clears her throat, and we both pivot around. Her brows are up. “Just waiting on my thank-you.”
“For what?”
“If I hadn’t invited you here, you two would’ve never gotten out of your own heads.” She pokes Hope on the shoulder. “And you’d still be sloshing around in a lake somewhere.”
“ The lake,” Hope says, with emphasis, and I can’t help smiling. Her loyalty to the Great Lakes is as strong as my affinity for sweet tea. “And I’m the one who called you asking for a job. Not the other way around.”
Marissa waffles her hand back and forth like it’s a matter of semantics, but she smiles. “All right, so we’ll share credit for the discovery, as long as I get lead author status.”
Shaking her head, Hope turns to me. “Was she always this insufferable?”
“Worse. One time, she found a gavel in a thrift store—”
“I know you’re not about to bring up the gavel incident.” Marissa rolls her eyes.
“Wait, gavel, as in—” Hope mimes pounding her hand with a fist “—‘order in the court,’ gavel?”
“Yup,” I say. “She carried it around for an entire summer and used it to silence us whenever we said something contrary.”
Hope laughs. “Did it work?”
“You’ve met Iris. What do you think?”
Marissa pulls a morose face. “Didn’t stop me from trying.” She sobers and says, “Speaking of passing judgment, do y’all plan to go public with your relationship, or is this news strictly between us?”
“Just between us.” Hope squeezes my hand, and my heart fills like a sponge, soaking up the affection. “No need to expose our private lives that way.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Gabe says. “I mean, it’s your call, but as your social media specialist, I had worries over how we were going to break the news without things getting sticky. From the outside, you’re the boss dating the assistant.”
I hate hearing that, but it’s not a stretch to think people might jump to conclusions. “I already called Vicki at the start of the season,” I say, referring to our lawyer. “She made sure Hope officially reports to Marissa, and I hold no authority over her employment.”
“And regardless, it’s not like that.” Hope squats down to sort through a bucket of cleaning rags. “We have a history.”
Gabe quirks his brows. “A history you’re willing to share with the entire internet?”
“Internet users.” Hope glances up with a quick grin in my direction.
Marissa shakes her head, like she’s aware of my antics. “Yeah, but he’s got a point. We don’t want it to look like you’re dating the new hire.”
“She’s not new. We’ve been at this together since college.”
“Sure have.” Marissa smirks, and Hope tosses a sponge at her. But her smile turns into a twist of her lips. “And I know that, and you know that, but viewers don’t.”
None of the insinuations would have any basis. She’s not some summer fling. But strangers don’t care. They’ll jump to conclusions, whether for or against us. “All the more reason to keep things quiet. Our relationship is none of their business.”
No way will I let our relationship put her at risk. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure she’s not in harm’s way.