Before
BEFORE
I begin to suspect Michael’s intentions after we leave Seattle behind, then Bellingham, yet the exit numbers along the I-5 continue to tick upward.
I text my mother that I’m safe—I’ll give her details later, once I figure out what they are—then tuck my phone away and study the road ahead.
When a scant five miles of America remains, I fish my unused passport from my purse. My heart hammers so hard I’m surprised I can hear myself speak. “I’m guessing I’m going to need this?”
Michael’s grin flashes—mischief and charm rolled into one. “Yep. That, and a bathing suit. Do you have one packed?”
“Will a bikini work?”
“A bikini.” His husky voice edges toward hoarse. “Yep. That’ll do.”
Our gazes catch. I can almost see what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it, too, and it involves a whole lot of sweat and sliding, slippery skin. Hitched, breathless cries and slickened fingers.
Which means I’ve officially lost it. I’ve never been a one-night-stand kind of girl, and that won’t change now. Not even for this breathtaking creature who just came to my rescue and has apparently made it his mission to fulfill my most sacred, lifelong dream. Today.
I fan myself with the passport’s stiff blank pages. No choice now but to change the subject with all the subtlety of a bulldozer. “You know, when I told you I’d dreamed about leaving the country since I was a kid, I mean I’ve had actual dreams about it, night after night. The kind I’ve always hated waking up from. There’s always this fleeting moment where I actually believe I’ve gone trekking through a Brazilian jungle or joined a bagpipe band in Scotland. But then I realize none of it’s real, and it always breaks my heart.”
“Except it will be real.” Unguarded glee fills Michael’s eyes, edging out the stark desire of a few moments ago. “In about five minutes.”
“I can’t believe how excited you seem,” I say.
“I can’t believe I get to give you your first step outside the country.”
“I can’t believe you want to . Why do you seem so giddy?”
“Because,” he says, “it means you’ll never forget me.”
“I don’t think I would have, anyway.”
“I hope not. But this way, I get to be sure.”
We don’t say much after that. I scan the oncoming road like a prisoner awaiting the guard’s approach on release day. I feel unbearably light inside, poised to fly. Finally, I spot a series of bright signs along the roadside, announcing the gates of a checkpoint—the entryway to another world.
Something touches my hand. When I look down, Michael’s long fingers weave through mine.
Fire floods my chest. I wonder if spontaneous combustion is an actual thing. I’m guessing yes.
We pull up to the border station. Michael hands over his license and my passport, and after a few cursory questions from the border agent, we accelerate into British Columbia.
Just like that, it’s done. I’m out. I’m free. I’m an international traveler, just like I’ve always wished.
My thoughts implode into a glittering cloud, and yet I don’t look out the window, even as downtown Vancouver streaks past. I fixate on Michael’s profile, tracing his pert nose and squared jaw. He’s just given me something no one else ever has, and I’m afraid to blink. Afraid this will prove to be just one more neon, electric dream.
After a minute, or an hour, he squeezes my hand. “You have the most incredible look on your face right now. What’re you thinking about?”
“Things I have no business thinking.” A thin laugh escapes me. “Things that make no sense.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because I only just met you.” Briefly, I think of Kate’s beloved women’s magazines, filled with articles about how to ensnare men by acting mysterious and eternally hard-to-get. Somehow, I get the feeling that’s unnecessary here.
Michael confirms it by saying, “Maybe you’re thinking exactly what you should be.”
“Maybe.” I shift, full of a verve I don’t quite know what to do with. “Except...I’m leaving. I’m going on an adventure.”
“Not all adventures are geographical.” He briefly releases the wheel to push his hair back, leaving his other hand safely entwined with mine. “Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t go. You should do everything you’ve spent years dreaming about. But I don’t think living well has much to do with where you are. It’s about the moments you create. And the fact that you can find beauty and meaning anywhere, if you look.”
“That...might be the wisest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about. I’m sure it’s one or the other.”
I’m convinced he does know what he’s talking about, but I don’t get the chance to say so, because he arrows through a gap in oncoming traffic and onto a dirt pull-off. “Here we are.”
When I look around, Canada steals my breath. We’re perched on an overlook that faces the ocean. Majestic pines march down the hillside. Beyond the glittering span of water, mountainous islands burst from the sea, wreathed in myriad shades of green. Even the sky seems bluer here, full of buttery sunshine and fleecy, playful clouds.
“Wow,” I say. “What is this place?”
“The Sea to Sky Highway.”
“It’s incredible.”
“It is.”
When I turn, Michael isn’t watching the scenery. He’s staring at me. “I would never ask you to stay,” he says. “Not for my sake.”
I freeze. “You wouldn’t?”
“I’m not that selfish.” His voice softens. “But I do want to ask you something else. Just...not here.”
“Oh. Okay. Where, then?”
He gestures past the overlook. “Down there.”
I nod, rendered mute by a spear of longing. Was I hoping he would ask me to stay? Do I even want to answer that question?
No. I’m leaving. This... whatever is only temporary.
Michael flashes a smile probably intended to reassure me. He gets out, fishes his swim trunks from his suitcase, and inconspicuously changes by his side of the car while I dutifully stare at the floor mat. Afterward, he strolls off to gaze at the water while I wriggle into my bikini in the front seat.
The whole time, my heart throbs. What could he possibly want? For me to keep in touch? Look him up when I get back?
Leaving my clothes puddled on the leather seat, I emerge wearing my tiny red two-piece and flip-flops. My long black hair tickles the small of my waist, but even though I’m half-naked, I pay no attention to the traffic whizzing past or the way the ocean breeze raises the hairs on my arms.
Michael turns at my approach. “Oh. Oh, wow.”
I stand at the top of the hillside and let him stare, because the way he does it feels like a caress. His eyes sweep downward, darkening as they trace the line of my shoulder, the curve of my hip, the taper of my calves. He looks at every bit of me, then returns to my face. Hunger blazes in those sea-swept eyes.
Faint surprise stirs. I’m small in every way—short, fine boned, small breasted, narrow waisted. And while I don’t dislike my tininess, it’s Kate’s brand of statuesque glamour that fills magazines and splashes across billboards.
Right now, though, I wouldn’t trade the way Michael is looking at me for anything.
“Come on.” He turns away. The roughness in his voice makes it sound like he’s trying to control himself. Which I sincerely wish he wouldn’t.
With a sigh, I follow him down the hillside, weaving between the pines. Michael offers a steadying hand, making sure I don’t slip on the carpet of fallen needles. Halfway down, we reach a rock-ringed pool. A river jets over a stone outcropping, forming a waterfall complete with a ghostly, misted rainbow. Michael shucks his shoes at the water’s edge, then pulls his shirt off and drapes it over a rock.
My mouth goes dry. He’s so beautiful it’s criminal. Long, smooth muscles come together like someone spent painstaking hours sculpting him that way. He has edges where most men don’t, definition where I wouldn’t have expected any.
When he turns, I zero in on the ridges of his abdomen and the sparkling silver chain resting against the impressive swell of his chest.
Dear god. If I ever go blind, I’d want this to be the last thing I see.
He gives me a smile—this one does look cocky—and leaps. A splash swallows him up. He surfaces a moment later, whooping and laughing. Water streams from broad shoulders as he rakes back sopping golden hair.
“Come on in.” He holds out his arms. “The water’s fine. And by fine , I mean absolutely freezing .”
I eye the crystalline pool. “Is that supposed to entice me?”
“Not really.” He winks. “But I’ll do my best to keep you warm. Hopefully that entices you a little.”
Well. I can’t refuse that. I doubt anyone could. I step to the edge, slip off my flip-flops, and jump.
The world turns to ice and darkness. Cold sears my skin, like wintry metal pressed in from all sides. But it only lasts a moment. By the time I surface, Michael is gathering me in his arms, heating my body with his.
An exhale pours out, one that involves my entire being. I wrap my legs around his waist and discover a brand-new feeling, a heady rush of newness mingled with a sense of fitting into the exact place I belong.
Michael cradles the nape of my neck and rests his forehead against mine. Droplets spangle his cheeks and make star points out of his eyelashes.
My heart delivers a few swift kicks against my rib cage. I want this man, I realize. In a relentless, painful way I have no prior experience with.
“Can you hold your breath for thirty seconds?” he says.
I blink. “I... What? Is that a joke?”
“Nope.” His voice thrums with excitement, making me wonder if there’s more to this place than just the pool. “Can you?”
“I think so.” I mentally congratulate myself on sounding only halfway hesitant. “But does that mean I’m supposed to swim underneath something?”
“No. You’re just supposed to hang on to me while I swim underneath something. That’s it. I’ll do all the work.”
Images of waterlogged tunnels and dark, aquatic graves fill my mind. But Michael’s zeal steals into me as our heartbeats press against one another. His eyes seem to ask a question.
I soak in the sight of him. Of Canada. And conviction blossoms— this is the adventure . Here, now. It’s breathing this crisp, sea-drenched air, feeling the lap of icy water against my skin. It’s the press of his strong body and the dance of sunlight on the waves below, the rushing song of the waterfall.
Life doesn’t lie on the far side of an ocean. I don’t need an airplane to get to it. It’s all around me, all the time. I only have to look , to open my eyes.
The moment feels like drinking from a firehose, and for the first time in my life, I have no desire to be elsewhere.
I swear Michael sees what’s happening, because he watches my face the same way a man might watch a budding sunrise. His eyes shine, reverent.
“What’re you thinking?” he says.
My lips bend upward. “That I’ve been waiting my entire life for this exact moment.”
His arms tighten around me. “So that’s a yes?”
“It’s a hell yes.”
Delight glows in his face. “Take a deep breath, then.”
I do. I fill my lungs with sunshine and his deep-forest smell and don’t shut my eyes until the last possible second.
The water closes overhead. Michael pulls me into depths that grow even colder.
More than thirty seconds seem to pass. He guides us through the arctic void with swift, certain kicks. Stones scrape against my bare legs while my chest shouts for air, but all the while, I hold on tight.
I have no other choice. I’ve jumped. I’ve gone diving in headfirst, and now I can only hang on and see where it takes me.