Chapter 14 #4
And because it gives us both room to be sure.
"But—" I start.
She laughs. It's not a happy sound. "There's a but."
"Yeah. There's a but."
I lean forward. Elbows on my knees.
"This has been barely a week, Jane. We met January twenty-fourth. It's January thirtieth. That's six days."
"Six and a half," she says quietly. "If you count nights."
I do count nights. Every single one. And every hour.
"That's not a lot of time."
"No."
"And we've been in a bubble. Paradise. High stakes. Forced proximity. Fake dating that turned real." I look at her. "What are we outside of this?"
"I don't know."
"Neither do I."
Both of us take a deep breath.
"And there’s my career. Not sure if I’ll stay in New York. And I have other offers, even a coaching one. Out west. I haven't said yes yet, but the pressure's there. People calling. Asking when I'm going to decide. There are still things that I need to get straight with my current team."
Jane's voice is careful. "Where out west?"
I shake my head. "Doesn't matter yet. The point is—it's not Boston."
"Boston is where I live. Where Grace is. Where my business is."
"I know."
"I can't leave her. Not right now. She's got a few more years left of school. She needs me."
"I know that too."
"And my business—I'm just starting to get traction. Real clients. Maybe the bridesmaids will give me referrals. If I disappear now—"
"You lose momentum."
"Yeah."
The ocean keeps going outside. Oblivious to the gravity inside this room.
"You have contract obligations," she says. "Family expectations. Your mom and Aunt Milly—"
A small laugh escapes me. "Are texting me constantly about you."
She looks up. Startled. "What?"
"Mom wants to know if you're 'the one.' Aunt Milly wants to know when she can have you over for dinner again. They haven't stopped since the family brunch."
"Grace likes you too," she says, and the vulnerability in her voice almost breaks me. "She told me on the phone. Called you 'disturbingly competent' and 'unfairly hot.'"
"She said 'unfairly hot'?"
"Her words."
"But you agree?"
She doesn't take the bait. "The point is—our families like each other. That makes it harder."
"Why harder?"
"Because if this doesn't work, it's not just us who gets hurt. It's Grace wondering what happened. It's your parents and aunt being disappointed." Her voice cracks.
Tears. Not sobbing—just quiet tears slipping down her face that she swipes at like they're inconvenient.
I close the space between us. Pull her against my chest.
She doesn't resist. Curls into me like she's been doing it for years.
"You couldn't disappoint them if you tried," I say against her hair. "They care about you because of who you are. Not because of what you do for me."
"That's not true."
"It is. Mom called you 'refreshingly authentic.' Milly said you're the first woman I've brought around who doesn't perform."
"I performed the entire brunch."
"No. You were yourself."
I pull back just enough to look at her. Brush tears off her cheeks with both thumbs.
"Jane. Listen to me."
She meets my eyes.
"I don't know what this looks like in the real world. I don't know if long distance works for us, or if timing screws everything. I don't know if we can make this last when we're not in a palm tree bubble playing pretend."
"That's not comforting."
"I'm not done."
"Okay."
"I know I want to try. I know you're the first person I've wanted to figure it out with in three years. I know watching you work makes me want to be better at everything I do. I know I don't want to go back to whatever my life was before January twenty-fourth."
Her breath catches.
"And I know—with absolute certainty—that you deserve someone who shows up. Who doesn't make you choose between your sister and your career and your own happiness. Who sees you—all of you—and doesn't ask you to be smaller."
"Are you trying to make me cry more?"
"I'm trying to make you understand that I see you. Not the fixer. Not the woman who deflects every compliment. Not the person who's been taking care of everyone else since she was old enough to hold a job."
I hold her face between my hands.
"I see you, Jane. And I really, really like what I see."
She's full-on crying now. Face pressed into my chest.
"I really like you too," she says. Muffled. "So much it scares me."
"Good. I'm terrified."
"That's not better."
"Sure it is. Means we're both in this."
We sit there. Holding on. Neither of us saying the three words we're both carrying.
Finally, she pulls back. Wipes her palms across her cheeks. Takes a breath.
"So what do we do?"
"We get through tomorrow. Make sure Natalie's safe."
"And then?"
"Then we go back to real life. You to Boston. Me to wherever I land. And we see if this still feels real when we're not in paradise."
"That sounds terrifying."
"Yeah."
"But also... maybe possible?"
"Maybe possible."
She leans her forehead against mine. Her breath is warm on my mouth. "I don't want this to end."
Neither do I.
But we both know it's ending tomorrow. The deal's done. The mission's over. The fake dating expires when we leave this island.
What comes after—if anything—that's the gamble we're both too scared to name.
"Your mom and Aunt Milly are going to be disappointed if we don't work out," she says.
"Grace will be too."
"She'll get over it."
"Will you?"
Quiet. "I don't know."
"Me neither."
Minutes later, Jane tugs me toward the bedroom, her tears dried, something lighter entering her expression. The resilience that keeps astonishing me.
"Come on. Now that I'm officially off the clock, I want to enjoy this island as a free woman." She glances back at me over her shoulder, and the look in her eyes is pure mischief despite the tear stains.
"Starting with that promise you made in the kitchen."
I let her pull me. Match her grin with one of my own.
"I always keep my promises."
And I do.
But the one I want to make now —the one sitting in my chest like a fist—isn't something I can say out loud.
Not yet.
Not when she's finally free to choose what she wants.
Because the next promise I make her—is my heart.
And I need her to reach for that on her own terms.