17. Lucie
Passing streetlights blurred into gold streaks against the night. Occasionally, Lucie stole glances at Finn, who seemed content with one hand on the steering wheel and the other drumming lightly on his thigh to the faint music playing in the background.
After the GPS said they would arrive in seven minutes, Finn rolled all of the windows down.
Lucie folded her arms on the door and stuck her head out the window.
The air was different here. Humid. Heavier.
If they didn’t have the GPS guiding their way, she would have known they were close; she would have been able to taste the salt in the air.
Closing her eyes, she rested her chin on her folded arms.
Finally, she’d made it.
The car rolled to a stop in the empty parking lot. The oceanside town was asleep except for lights in the small bakery, making the next morning’s donuts.
Finn watched her with a quiet reverence.
“Go on,” he said softly, nodding toward the water, handing her a battery-powered lantern. “I’ll get the stuff. You should see it by yourself for the first time.”
She grabbed onto his arm, happiness spilling over her like a cup with too much water in it.
“Thank you so much for doing this for me.” Lucie beamed. Lucie thought about kissing him for a second. Her eyes flicked down to his lips. Would he taste like the lemon cookies they had just shared?
He cleared his throat, breaking her out of her trance. “I’ll meet you down there.”
Lucie hesitated for a second, holding onto her mom’s shell she had brought with her as an shield.
The full moon and stars lit the sandy path before her. Her excitement grew with each step, but so did her anxiety. What if it wasn’t everything she dreamed about? And what if it was? What then?
The first thing that she noticed was the waves. They were louder than she thought they would be, like distant thunder crashing along the shore.
The night was clear enough that she could see the Milky Way. She didn’t know that you could actually see that. She thought it was a joke or something people said in books to make it feel more romantic.
Vincent Van Gogh would have been inspired by the inky navy blues in the sky—the swirling clouds—the shining stars.
But the ocean called to her like a siren to a lovesick pirate. Each step brought her closer to the mesmerizing waterline. The sand was cool beneath her feet.
Gingerly, she took off her sandals and stood right on the water’s edge, letting the waves rush up and pull back around her toes, feeling the cool water and gritty sand swirl together. Lucie stumbled a bit, not expecting the sand to pull back from underneath her like a carpet.
The waves seemed alive—each falling on top of the other in a never-ending cycle. She couldn’t understand that while she had been sitting at her counter on that broken chair wasting her life, this—the movements of the ocean were endlessly crashing into the earth.
It was even more beautiful than she had imagined—a living, breathing masterpiece that made her feel small in the best way.
Staring at the untouchable horizon, she realized she was as far away from her father as she could be—the edge of the world. This spot was safe. Her dad couldn’t reach her here.
Dreams were possible in a place like this. It was easy to imagine leaving. Looking out at the horizon, she vowed to find a place that felt like this.
Time seemed to pass differently as she lingered at the shoreline, letting the waves rush over her feet. She was looking at something eternal, something that had seen everything and held every secret within its depths.
Across time, over these waters, fleets had clashed under stormy skies, dreams of glory, and the lure of the unknown.
Stories lost to time but somehow still alive in every swell and crash of the waves.
She could almost see the ghostly silhouettes of ships fading into the fog, and hear the faint echoes of sailors’ voices and clanging bells carried on the wind.
This ocean had witnessed history—bearing the triumphs, defeats, and endless dreams of those who dared to cross it. It was freedom and loss: eternity and death.
And now, here she was, standing at the same shore, a quiet observer of something that had existed long before her and would endure long after.
Lucie hugged her arms around her middle, feeling the salty air tug at her hair. She licked at her fingertip; it already tasted like salt. She giggled. It was real. She was here.
She’d made it.
The soft thud of bags being set down turned her around.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Finn working quietly, so as not to bother her, focusing on making everything perfect.
The two foam boards from the top of his car made it down, along with a black duffel bag with sandcastle-making molds sticking out of it.
He must have felt her staring at him; their eyes met, and he gave her a playful wink.
Her toes curled in the sand. Part of her wanted to stay in the water until her skin turned pruney, but?—
Lucie walked back to Finn, as he set up a red checkered blanket ripped right out of her fantasies.
“Was it everything you dreamed it’d be?” he asked, his voice as mesmerizing as the ocean. His gaze searched her face as if he wanted to soak in every bit of her excitement.
“Better,” Lucie breathed, her words tumbling out in a rush.
“Well, it gets even better,” he promised, holding out his hands. Lucie couldn’t imagine how it would be. “I, uh, got you something,” Finn said, his voice sounding a little uncertain. “I don’t know if you want it now or—but here you go.” He pulled out of the bag something wrapped in new leather.
There was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. The color reminded her of warm honey. He half-held out the gift, almost as if he was second-guessing himself.
She reached out, and as she took the gift, her fingers brushed against his. Goosebumps covered her arm that had nothing to do with the brisk wind.
Her initials were carved into the leather, rolled-up case. Carefully, she began to untie the thin leather cord holding it together. As the leather fell away, Lucie gasped.
Inside were new paintbrushes. Each one was expertly crafted. Better than anything she had ever had in her life. She ran a finger over the brushes and the soft pink, marbled, polished handles.
“I made the leather pouch myself,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
She looked up at Finn, her eyes wide and filled with emotion. She truly didn’t know what to say. No one had ever given her anything so thoughtful, something so personal to her. And they were pink. Eee!
Then he pulled out a new sketch pad and a set of watercolors from another bag. Pristine and filled with possibility that truly took her breath away.
“I’ll save you from seeing my damn awful wrapping,” he confessed.
He paused, then glanced at the ocean before meeting her gaze.
“Wait one more second. This is the best part.” Lucie couldn’t move a muscle in her body.
She thought she had died. Died and gone to heaven.
Her ghost would be happy to roam the shores forever.
And she was wearing a cute ghost outfit.
Finn walked away, retrieved a small, clear cup from the bag, went toward the ocean, and bent down. Once again, Lucie thanked his tailor as he scooped up some of the ocean’s water, bringing it back to her, careful not to spill a drop.
What was he doing?
Lucie placed his gifts onto the blanket as he offered the cup to Lucie, “So you can watercolor with the ocean water. That way, you’ll always have a piece of the ocean with you, no matter where you are.”
Lucie jumped into his arms, not caring about the water from the cup spilling on her.
“Thank you,” she whispered into his neck.
He brushed a stray lock of her red hair behind her ear, his touch feather-light. His eyes were full of something she couldn’t quite name. Affection? Trust?
“I want to kiss you so badly,” Finn whispered, as if he were confessing a sin. “Can I please kiss you?”
Her breath hitched at the gentle contact on her face, leaning into his warmth.
Encouraged by her movement, his thumb gently caressed her cheek, his touch reverent, as though he was holding something precious.
“Yes,” she replied. Knowing he would never close the gap unless she gave him permission.
“I think I’ve actually dreamed about this,” he said, slowly leaning in, giving her every chance to pull away. “How crazy is that?”
She leaned in.
Wanting.
Hungering.
Embarrassingly needy.
She pulled back slightly.
“Finn, I’ve never?—”
She didn’t want to do this wrong or mess it up. Where did her lips go? On top? On the bottom? She was sure that Finn wouldn’t mess up in any of these areas.
He chuckled, his eyes roaming over her face like he had all the time in the world, brushing her wind-swept hair back.
“Well, you’re amazing at first dates, and we can cross off the second ones too,” Finn said, cradling her cheek, and she blushed. “I don’t think you’ll be able to get this one wrong. Something tells me you’re going to teach me more.” His breath mingled with hers. “But do you want this?”
Lucie looked up at his lips. “I want this. I want you.”
“Then ask. Ask for what you want, and I’ll give you anything,” he whispered, gathering her up in his arms. “Everything.”
“Kiss me,” she all but begged.
Words were stolen from her lips, but he could have all of them forever if he wanted.
The kiss was soft. Tentative—a kiss that was both a question and an answer. A prayer answered. Dreams fulfilled; the beginning of a new one.
His lips were gentle, soft, moving against her with such care that it made her want to cry. The slow brush of her skin over his, the gentle scratch of his stubble on her chin.
His hand cradled the side of her face, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek as if committing every detail to memory.
In all her life, she knew that in this moment she would never be able to paint, recreate, or dream up something as beautiful as this.
Books didn’t get this part right. The feeling of how right it was to be held by him.
The kisses he pressed to her cheeks, then immediately returned to her lips, as if finding his true north.
How soft his hair felt between her fingers.
Lucie’s hands found their way to his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart beneath her fingertips, and she gasped. Finn nipped at her lips and caught the sound.
“I want this day to be perfect for you, Luzita,” Finn muttered against her lips.
“It already is,” she sighed, her eyes still closed.
Finn’s tattooed fingers dug into her head to pull her closer like she was the air he was breathing.
“I need to stop,” he breathed into her neck.
“I have more surprises for you,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, placing her down on her wobbling legs out of pure post-make-out delirium.
Then he kissed her twice. Each in quick succession.
“This day is just getting started, and we are losing moonlight.”
If you asked Lucie, she would have been perfectly content to spend the rest of the night memorizing his lips, but she nodded, touching her lips, still in shock.
“What does Luzita mean?” she said, settling down on the edge of the blanket.
Finn leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
“I’m going to get you some more water,” he grinned, giving her a wink before picking up the empty cup and heading toward the ocean.