Chapter Text
It was never going to be an ordinary day.
Harry knew that the moment the sweating executive across the table began rambling about everything except the answer to his very simple question.
“We invested ten million dollars into this project,” Harry says, his voice carrying the authority of a man who has built business empires out of nothing. “Where did it all go?”
The man stutters, fingers nervously adjusting his glasses.
It thins Harry’s patience, already razor-thin after two days of half-truths and expensive lunches that led nowhere.
His brother, Peter, smoothly steps in, guiding the conversation into friendlier territory until the cowardly businessman finally admits the investment was mismanaged—but promises they will generate the profit needed to repay them and move forward with the project.
“We’ll believe it when we see it. Our lawyers will be in touch.” Irritated by the endless bullshit, Harry rises from his seat without another word.
He strides out, leaving Peter behind to close the meeting with a touch more professionalism.
In the lobby, Harry scrolls through his phone, arranging his private flight back to Manhattan.
The entire trip has been a waste of time and resources. A reminder that most people only want to take advantage of his family’s money and name.
They had suspected the money was being mishandled from the start. Harry had pushed to send the legal team and be done with it, but his brother had insisted on this face-to-face meeting just in case things weren’t what they seemed.
So much for that.
Peter appears a moment later, loosening his tie with a sigh. “I knew you were tense, but I didn’t think you’d let him see it.”
“He was wasting our time and I have a loaded schedule waiting for me stateside,” Harry mutters, falling into step beside him as they exit into the golden morning light.
The sun spills generously over the area, bathing the elegant streets in warmth and turning the sea beyond into a glittering expanse of sapphire.
They slip on their expensive sunglasses as the valet brings around their luxury antique car.
“You know,” Peter adds casually “there’s a beautiful oceanfront resort not far from here. Private beach. Incredible views. You could stay a few more days.”
Harry lets out a short, dry chuckle. Is he serious? “And do what? Have a spa day? Get a massage?”
“Yes,” Peter grins. “Stop spreading yourself so thin and have some fun.”
Harry rolls his eyes, tongue pressing against his cheek.
Fun. The word tastes bitter.
The last time he let himself do just that, the woman he was seeing left him for her broke ex.
Ever since, he’s buried himself in his work, which isn’t necessarily too different from how involved he usually is.
However, with his mother’s retirement looming on the horizon, he intends to be more than ready to step into the role of Chief Executive Officer; which means he’s been picking up extra responsibilities within the company.
Security and control—those are things Harry Castillo understands, and he can’t let something as trivial as having fun distract him from the bigger picture of his career.
Their car glides to a smooth stop in front of them. The young valet hops out and Peter tips him generously before they both get in.
“All I’m saying is things are in good hands back home, so if that’s what you’re worried about, don’t be,” he continues as he buckles his seatbelt. “Ever since Lucy—”
Harry shoots him a sideways glance, but his brother ignores it entirely.
“Ever since you came back from Iceland, you’ve been so rigid. It’d be good for you to loosen up and get out of your head before the promotion takes over your life.”
Harry rolls the window down, letting the warm sea breeze rush in, scented with summer itself.
The beautiful streets of Monte-Carlo unfold around them: whitewashed buildings draped in vibrant bougainvillea, shops and restaurants pulling in the morning crowd.
Since the breakup (mutual as it was) he has grown more guarded, more rigid, as Peter so eloquently put it.
Overworking himself during the day has kept him distracted enough, but at night in his penthouse, with a glass of chardonnay in hand, Lucy’s absence has carved out a hollow space inside him.
For the first time in his life, he feels truly heartbroken. It serves as a stark reminder that romance is a risk he no longer cares to take.
It’s easier to approach relationships like long-term investments rather than an actual, intimate connection.
They stop at an intersection. Peter nudges him, pointing toward the scenic coastline.
“Look at that view,” he whistles, adjusting his sunglasses. “Who wouldn’t want to get lost in that?”
The water sparkles under the sun. People lounge on the sand, others swim in the shallow water, and a few yachts drift lazily in the distance.
The beauty of it appeals to him more than expected. He supposes his brother has a point—the last few months have been nothing but long days filled with grueling business meetings and lonely city nights.
Maybe a few days of doing nothing in paradise won’t actually kill him.
His decision crystallizes in that moment.
“For once,” Harry says, a small smile tugging at his lips as Peter laughs in triumph, “you might be right. It is very beautiful here.”
“There are worse places to be.”
Harry hums in agreement, pulling out his phone and canceling his flight back to New York.
You’ve been mostly inland for the past month—wandering misty green hills in Ireland, chasing history through the UK, and slowly making your way down to the stunning French Riviera.
It has been the kind of trip that rewires your soul.
Now you’re in Monaco, kicking off the coastal chapter of your long awaited summer escape.
The views here are almost too beautiful to be real. Water stretches endlessly toward the horizon and pastel buildings cascade down the hills like something out of a painting.
You can’t wait to lose yourself in it.
Right now, you’re laying out on a plush lounger beside the resort’s infinity pool, bikini hugging your sun-warmed skin.
Headphones in, your favorite summer track pulses softly in your ears as a light sheen of sweat kisses your collarbones and thighs.
You’ve been out here for hours, lazily sipping mimosas until the world has taken on that perfect, fuzzy glow.
God, you haven’t felt truly peaceful in… well, longer than you care to admit.
Between the endless hours at your interior design firm, the partnership with your husband and his brother that blurred every line between work and home, and the slow unraveling of your four-year marriage… you’d forgotten what it meant to put yourself first.
This trip is your rebellion. Your indulgence. Your chance to be gloriously selfish for once.
With a contented sigh, you slip one earbud out and push your sunglasses up to rest on top of your head.
The bright Mediterranean light makes you squint as you lazily scan the pool area. It’s perfectly balanced—not too crowded, not too empty.
Most guests cluster near the bar on the far side, laughter and conversation drifting across the water.
That’s when your gaze catches on him.
A handsome stranger is already watching you. Tall, dark curly hair, confident posture even while leaning against the bar.
His eyes are kind and intense at the same time. You don’t know how to feel about it.
You offer him a polite smile.
He returns it, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that sends a small spark of interest through you, before he turns back to the bartender.
The heat is starting to cling too heavily to your skin. You rise gracefully, stretching your arms overhead, letting the sun worship every inch of you for a moment.
You adjust the strings of your bathing suit, then pad around the edge of the pool and dive in with a smooth, clean entry.
The cool water is pure bliss. It swallows you whole, washing away the morning’s warmth as you glide beneath the surface.
When you break through, you push wet strands of hair from your face and smile to yourself, savoring the way the water caresses your skin.
You swim a few lazy laps, rediscovering the rhythm of your strokes. You haven’t swam properly in years.
Eventually, the craving for something sweeter pulls you toward the submerged swim-up bar.
You swim to the smooth ledge and settle onto one of the underwater stools, ordering once you get the bartender’s attention.
“Coconut mojito, please.”
The resort is everything Peter mentioned and more.
Harry checked in not much longer after that car ride with his brother, changing into swim trunks and a light button-down, heading down to the pool with no real plan except to sit in the sun and remind himself he’s still capable of relaxing.
He ordered a tequila sunrise at the bar, the sweet burn of it loosening the knot at the base of his neck.
That’s when he saw you, and he swore his heart stopped for just a split second.
You were laying there completely oblivious, enjoying the early afternoon so at ease that Harry almost envied how serene you looked.
And the bathing suit you have on? He kept his gaze respectful, but the pull in his gut was immediate.
Then you made eye contact, smiled at him, and that was enough to get the man’s resolve to crack just a little bit.
You’re absolutely gorgeous.
Harry didn’t approach you or anything like that, obviously, since he’s not here for complications. Just a few quiet days to breathe before diving back into the labyrinth of his family’s empire.
So he decided to lounge at the bar in the water, taking off his button down before getting in and making small talk with the man behind the tiled counter as he waited for his drink.
But now… here you are. Sliding onto the space right beside him, water droplets tracing shimmering paths down your shoulders.
He’s already three—no, four—tequila sunrises deep. Liquid courage has a way of making him disregard his stance on making a move.
“You can charge it to my room,” Harry intervenes smoothly when the bartender turns to prepare your drink.
You glance over, one eyebrow arching in pleasant surprise.
The light catches the small hoops in your ears and the layered necklaces resting against your collarbone. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
You flash him that same smile from earlier, the one that made his pulse jump.
Up close, you’re even more striking—curves accentuated by your bathing suit, skin glowing with a thin layer of sunscreen.
The bartender returns with your cocktail. You thank him softly, then lift your glass toward Harry in a cheerful toast.
He mirrors the motion. Your glasses clink under the bright blue sky.
“Mmm, delicious,” you murmur after the first sip.
Harry wonders if that's an invitation to indulge in small talk.
It is.
“Is that your go-to order?” he asks, turning slightly toward you, the cool water lapping gently at your waists.
“No,” you answer, leaning forward against the colorful bar top, your gold jewelry gleaming with every small movement. “I’m usually an espresso martini girl, but I’m trying to break out of my routines. What about you?”
You nod toward the vibrant orange drink in his hand. “What are you drinking?”
“Tequila sunrise,” he says with a small grin. “Not my usual either. But it felt right for this setting.”
You take another slow sip through the straw, the mint and lime bright on your tongue. “So what is your usual?”
“A rich bourbon on the rocks.” His eyes drift briefly to your lips as you hum in response, licking a stray drop from them.
The motion is innocent, but it sends heat curling through him.
“Here’s to trying new things,” you say, raising your glass again with a mischievous glint in your eye.
You clink once more, and this time Harry can’t look away.
With the way the afternoon sun paints everything in gold and rose and how the distant laughter of other guests provides ambient background noise—it all feels like the opening notes of something… delightful.
“Do you usually stare this hard,” you tease lightly, “or do I have something on my face?”
Harry feels the faintest blush creep up his neck—completely out of character for him. He’s usually quick with a charming retort or flirtatious compliment.
He blames the tequila… and you.
“Sorry,” he replies with a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just find you to be a very gorgeous woman. Your partner is a lucky person.”
You tense for the briefest second, but you brush it off with an easy giggle. “And what makes you think I have a partner?”
“A beautiful woman like yourself? Surely someone has already made their move.”
Your eyes narrow as you study him, reading the confident lines of his face, the expensive watch glinting on his wrist, the kind warmth in his deep brown eyes.
The way you’re looking at him sobers Harry up just enough to realize he might be coming on too strong.
“Well,” you finally break the small silence, leaning in a little closer.
The scent of chlorine, coconut sunscreen, and something sweetly flora hits his nose and it makes him feel a little lightheaded.
“Someone is making their move… and I think he thinks he’s bombing it entirely.” You can’t help but tease. “He isn’t, though. But he could buy me another drink if he really wants to make a good first impression.”
Harry blinks, momentarily stunned. Then realization hits like sunlight breaking through clouds—you’re flirting back.
A slow, genuine smile spreads across his face as he straightens his posture and flags the bartender with newfound confidence.
“Another round,” he tells the man, not taking his eyes off you. “And keep them coming.”
The rest of the afternoon stretches lazily, conversation flowing as easily as the drinks.
For the first time in months, Harry feels the walls he’s built around himself beginning to melt under the warmth of your presence.
And you—lost in the freedom of this trip and the magnetic pull of this charming stranger—start to wonder just how far this unexpected spark might take you.
Eventually, Harry suggests moving to a shaded cabana nearby, and you happily agree.
The two of you settle into the oversized daybed draped with crisp white linens. The sheer curtains flutter lazily in the sea breeze.
As you get more comfortable, friendly touches linger just a second longer than necessary—his fingers brushing yours when passing a drink, your knee grazing his thigh as you shift closer.
The chemistry is hard to ignore.
You lean back against the cushions, legs tucked beneath you, and swirl the straw in your drink with a teasing smile.
“You know, I thought all billionaires were supposed to be pretentious and complete assholes. So far, I’m not getting that from you. Like, at all.”
Harry chuckles, moving closer, his brown eyes catching the sunlight as he rests one arm along the back of the daybed.
“That would be an accurate assumption. We are pretentious and assholes.” He says, truthfully. “I just happen to be aware of it and know when it’s best to let those unfortunate characteristics shine.”
He gives your figure a suave once over. “Sitting here with a beautiful woman doesn’t seem like the best time to be pretentious or an asshole, does it?
You take a slow sip from your mojito, deliberately holding his gaze. “Smooth talker. Do you practice answers like that in the mirror, or do they come naturally like the private jet?”
“Naturally. Especially when you look at me with that sparkle in your eye and in a bikini that should come with its own warning label.”
Heat rises to your cheeks, but you don’t look away.
Instead, you bite your lip, tilting your head with a flirtatious look.
“Warning label, huh? Please. Nothing mischievous about me. I’m just here to soak up the sun and forget real life exists for a while. You, on the other hand...”
You reach out and lightly tap the center of his chest, right where his shirt would button if it were fully fastened.
“Might not be an asshole but you do have that whole ‘I negotiate with fate itself’ energy about you. I bet you even schedule spontaneous moments in your calendar.”
His grin dimples, a playful challenge sparkling in his eyes as he leans in a fraction. “Guilty, but I’ll have you know that I canceled my flight back home on a whim. That’s practically rebellious for me.”
You raise your glass in a toast. “To rebellion... and learning how to be at ease.”
He clinks your drink gently against his, the ice chiming like a secret promise.
“This might just be the best detour of my summer yet.”
The breeze stirs the cabana curtains again, wrapping the two of you in the sweet tension of a budding romance.
Eventually, the sun begins its slow descent, painting the sky in rich strokes of tangerine and deep violet.
“What’s your name, by the way?” Harry asks, realizing only now you haven’t properly introduced yourself with how wrapped up you both have been in the easy conversations.
You giggle softly. “We really skipped right past that, didn’t we?”
“If my mother were here, she’d scold me for not introducing myself properly,” he extends a large, warm hand toward you. “I’m Harry.”
“Harry,” you repeat, letting the name roll off your tongue like you’re tasting it.
You slip your hand into his, noting how perfectly it fits, feeling the buzz from the sun and drinks and now his touch.
“I’m…” You glance down at the small sun tattoo on your wrist before meeting his eyes again. “I’m Sol.”
“What a beautiful name.”
“I’ll make sure to thank my parents on your behalf.”
Harry’s laugh is genuine and rich, paired with an easy smile that softens the frown lines of his handsome face.
“Well, Sol, forgive me for being too forward… but I would love to take you out to dinner tonight.”
Whatever this is—he doesn’t want it to end when the sun sets. Contrary to how gloomy and pessimistic he’s been about romance as of late.
Your eyebrows shoot up in delighted surprise. “Tonight? As in, tonight tonight?”
“Not sure what other tonight there is, but yes. Only if you’d like.”
You bite your lip, the white rum humming pleasantly through your veins as you weigh the invitation.
Harry is unlike anyone you’ve met in a long time. Charming without trying too hard, confident but not arrogant.
Talking to him feels dangerously easy.
Part of you whispers that you should keep this light, enjoy the afternoon and walk away with a perfect vacation memory to tell your girlfriends back home over brunch.
After all, he’s returning to New York soon, and you’re only at the beginning of the second half of your summer escape and in the middle of a very messy separation.
But those eyes… those deep, kind, captivating eyes are making it nearly impossible to say no.
With a pretty, tipsy smile, you nod. “I’d love that, Harry. How about we meet in the lobby at eight?”
He tries—and fails—to hide the spark of excitement in his expression. Glancing at the expensive watch on his wrist, he notes the current time.
“That sounds perfect.”
With that, you get up to gather your things. Harry helps, also grabbing his belongings, and both of you walk back into the building together.
“I’m looking forward to dinner. Thanks for this afternoon… It was very fun.”
Fun. There’s that word again. If Peter were here right now, he’d be saying I told you so in varying boastful ways.
“As am I. Thank you for indulging me.”
You flash him another dazzling smile, and with that, both of you part ways.
You meet in the lobby at eight o’clock on the dot, the soft glow of chandeliers twinkling over the marble floors of the open area.
You’ve chosen a flowy summer dress in soft coral that makes your body look delectable, a fresh bikini hidden beneath for whatever the night might bring.
Keeping your makeup as natural yet accentuating as possible, you’ve made sure to apply your favorite lip gloss and sprayed just enough perfume to be that more alluring.
Harry is waiting for you near the grand entrance, looking effortlessly handsome: a crisp light button-down rolled at the sleeves, tailored shorts, and his usually slicked-back curls now loose and fluffy.
In his hands rests a thoughtfully arranged bouquet of pink summer roses, delicate lilies, and cheerful daisies—perfectly color-coordinated as if he put meticulous care into choosing every bloom.
The sight of him makes your stomach flutter. Goodness, he really is so hot.
“You look incredible,” Harry compliments once he sees you, his warm brown eyes lighting up with obvious appreciation of how effortlessly gorgeous you look as he offers you the flowers.
You accept the bouquet with a genuine smile, inhaling the sweet floral scent. “These are beautiful, Harry. Thank you.”
He offers his arm like a true gentleman, and the two of you stroll down toward the private beach path, the distant sound of waves growing louder with every step.
“Where exactly are we going?” You can’t help but ask, taking in how beautiful the coastline looks at this time of night.
“It’s a surprise.”
He’s rented a secluded cove just for the two of you. When you arrive, your breath hitches in your throat.
A beautifully arranged beachside picnic waits under a canopy of sheer white fabric that billows gently in the breeze.
There’s plush cushions and a low table overflowing with vibrant summer fruits—ripe peaches, berries, slices of mango—alongside an elegant spread of fresh seafood, crusty bread, cheeses, and chilled wine.
Lanterns flicker softly, casting gentle shadows across the sand as the waves foam against the shore.
“This is… possibly one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me,” you admit without thinking, a little breathless as he helps you settle onto the cushions.
Holy shit.
Harry’s smile is modest but pleased. “Good. That was the goal.”
The dinner unfolds like a scene from a romance movie. You talk for hours as stars pierce the clear night sky.
He tells you about growing up in New York, his love for the energy of the city but his quiet craving for serene moments like this. He’s glad his brother talked him into extending the trip.
You laugh at his dry humor, tease him about being a secret romantic, and flirt shamelessly in return. Your husband doesn’t cross your mind once.
When he asks about your life, you keep things intentionally vague: a few charming stories from your travels, your passion for design and beautiful spaces, but nothing that might pop this perfect bubble you’ve found yourself in.
Two bottles of expensive, crisp white wine disappear between shared bites of food.
It loosens your limbs, drawing you closer to him on the cushions.
Harry’s hand rests on your bare knee. It makes you shiver despite the breeze that flows by being warm.
Your head rests against his shoulder as the night turns more intimate.
He turns to you, his face inches from yours, eyes dark with want.
“Have you ever wanted to do something so impulsive,” he murmurs, gaze falling down to your glossy lips then back up to your eyes. “that it makes you wonder if you’re really as brave as you thought you were?”
You let out a soft sigh, the question hitting closer to home than he could ever possibly know. “Yes.”
He studies your features for a moment, then asks: “Can I kiss you?”
Instead of answering with words, you lean in and press your lips to his.
It starts tender but quickly ignites, all that pent-up longing you’ve both been carrying in your respective lives pours out between you.
You climb onto his lap, straddling his thighs as your flowy summer dress rides up around your hips. Harry’s hands instinctively settle on your waist, gripping you with a quiet groan of approval as you settle against him.
Your fingers thread through his curly hair, tugging lightly as the kiss deepens passionately. Harry responds with equal fervor, one hand sliding up your back while the other grips your thigh, pulling you flush against him.
Your bodies move together instinctively. Tongues dance, teasing and tasting wine and summer on each other’s lips.
You rock subtly in his lap, feeling his swelling erection against your inner thigh. It makes the pulsing at your core intensify. You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this desired.
His hands roam freely now; tracing the curve of your waist, skimming over warm skin beneath the thin fabric of your dress, thumbs brushing dangerously close to the edge of your tied bikini.
When you finally pull back, you repeat his earlier question back to him with a playful smirk. “Have you ever wanted to do something so impulsive…?”
You have him completely at the edge of his metaphorical seat, every nerve alive with anticipation.
His lips are swollen from your playful nips. “Yes.”
Without warning, you rise from the picnic setup with a wicked grin
You slip out of your dress, letting it pool at your feet and revealing the stunning silhouette of your body.
His eyes widen in a mix of surprise and desire as you peel off your bikini top and toss it playfully at his chest, exposing your chest to him.
Harry’s mouth goes dry.
You kick away your bottoms and skip toward the moonlit ocean, your laughter ringing like music across the sand.
“C’mon! Don’t make me swim alone!”
He doesn’t hesitate long after that. Harry strips down and joins you in the warm, silky water.
He can’t believe he’s doing this. Just this morning he was ready to sign off the idea of letting loose for good… and then you appeared and completely swept him off his feet.
Naked skin meets naked skin as the gentle waves lap around you both.
Harry presses his broad body against yours, hands sliding down the slick curve of your waist, gripping the soft swell of your hips, then gliding up to cup your breasts.
You moan softly, throwing your arms around his neck and angling yourself to kiss his lips.
A low groan vibrates from his chest and into your mouth as your hardened nipples brush against his skin with every sway.
One of his hands drifts lower, possessively squeezing the fullness of your ass, pulling you tighter so you can feel exactly how hard and ready he is for you.
And holy shit is he packing a very generous package.
“As pleasurable as I imagine it would be, I can’t sleep with you tonight, Harry.”
He’s so dizzy with lust that it’s almost disorienting. “That’s fine. There are no expectations. However, I am only human…” He says in regard to the hard on he’s currently sporting.
“Trust me, I feel it too in my own way.” You bite your lip and pull away before things escalate.
You’re not sure you want to cross that line just yet—but he’s making it seem very, very enticing.
To keep things playful, you splash him with a cheeky wave of your hand then immediately try to wade away.
Harry is a lot quicker. His strong arm loops around your waist, pulling your slippery body back against his chest with an amused laugh.
While holding you firmly in place, he retaliates with a splash of his own, sending sparkling droplets cascading all over you.
You squeal with laughter as the two of you playfully wrestle in the waves, all tangled limbs and breathless giggles under the stars.
The walk back to the hotel feels like you’re floating.
Harry’s hand rests lightly at the small of your back as you stroll along the string-lit path. The night air is perfumed with sea salt and night-blooming jasmine.
You feel like you’re in a modern fairytale.
Every touch sends sparks up your arm, shared glances carrying the delicious weight of everything that just happened between you in such a short amount of time.
When you reach the lobby, you turn to face him, cheeks still warm.
“I had an amazing time tonight,” you tell him softly, meaning every word. “Truly. Thank you for everything.”
Harry steps closer, his brown curls more prominent now from the texture of the saltwater.
“Truth be told: I’m not ready for this night to end. I want to keep seeing you… if you’ll let me.” His voice drops, laced with quiet hope that you want to continue whatever the hell this is. “May I have your number? So we can stay in touch while you’re here?”
You hesitate for half a second—your real life flickering somewhere in the back of your mind—but the pull of this amazing man and the rejuvenated summer version of yourself tugs you from those thoughts.
You give him the number to your flip phone (the burner you bought specifically for this trip) and he programs it into his phone with a boyish grin that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy.
Then leans in and kisses you.
It’s sweet, feeling like the beginning of something far bigger than a fleeting summer fling… even if neither of you vocalizes it.
“Goodnight, Sol,” he murmurs against your lips.
“Goodnight, Harry.”
You slip away from him, the bouquet of flowers cradled gently in your arms. You step into the waiting elevator and press the button for your floor, your eyes never leaving his until the mirrored doors glide shut between you.
Once you’re inside your room, you close the door behind you and let out a soft sigh as you slide down against the wood, knees literally weak.
Today was pure magic. The kind of day you’ll replay in your head for years.
You’re still smiling when you push yourself up, gently laying the flowers down on the console table, and heading toward the shower to rinse the salt from your skin.
That’s when your phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Your heart does a hopeful little flip, hoping that Harry has caved already and decided to call you.
Couldn’t even wait until tomorrow… you think to yourself playfully, reaching for the small device.
But the number on the tiny screen isn’t his.
It’s your husband.
The smile fades instantly. You stare at the phone for a long moment, everything inside you screaming not to answer.
But old habits (guilt, history, the tangled business partnership) win out.
You flip it open.
“Hello,” you answer, your voice flatter than it’s been all day.
“Finally,” his familiar Texas drawl fills the line, tight with worry. “Ain’t heard from ya since you left for Ireland a month ago.”
There’s a heavy silence that follows before he speaks up again. “You okay? Where are you right now?”
“I’m fine.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, the dreamy afterglow of your day with Harry dissipating with every word.
More silence.
“We need to talk about this. I know I’ve been distant but… we built somethin’ real together and I know we can fix it.”
Old resentment bubbles up. “It took me leaving the country for you to finally come to that realization? We’ve been roommates who share a business for the last two years. Not husband and wife.”
He lets out the kind of heavy sigh that used to make you soften and let your guard down.
“I know I’ve let you down. I’ve been putting the job first—hell, putting everythin’ first except us. But I’m here now, trying. Everyone’s been on my ass too, sayin’ I’m an idiot for letting you go on this trip alone. Just… tell me where you are. I’ll fly out. We’ll figure this out together.”
Together. You scoff and close your eyes, the weight of years of trying—and failing—pressing down on you.
You’ve already grieved this marriage in silence for too long. Important dates he missed, dinners eaten alone, the way intimacy had slowly faded into plain coexistence.
You’re exhausted from carrying the hope for both of you.
“It’s too late for that,” you admit steadily, despite the ache that lingers. “I’m not coming home yet. I need this time for me.”
The line goes quiet for another moment.
“I miss you.”
“I missed you too, but I’m done missing someone who’s right next to me. Don’t call me again for a while, Joel.”
You end the call before he can respond, the finality of it settling heavy in your chest.
Setting the phone down, you finally undress and step into the shower, standing under the hot spray of the waterfall feature.
As eucalyptus scented steam fills the space, your mind drifts back to warm brown eyes, curly hair, and the way Harry looked at you like you were the most captivating thing he’s ever seen.
You allow yourself to sink fully into the possibility of what this summer—and this unexpected man—might blossom into.
A wistful, secret smile returns to your lips.