workplace, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He returns it with equal passion and affection. It reminds me that no one has ever kissed me like he does, and no one ever will.
“You’re happy, then?” He smiles against my mouth.
“The happiest. This is too much.”
He pulls back, cradling my face in his hands. “For the woman I love, it’s worth it.”
I open my mouth to speak, but there are no words. Just hot, stunned breath. “You love me?” I can barely get it out.
“I love you, Emmie.”
“Hang on.” I grip his forearm like it’s a life preserver and I’m drowning. “But I—”
He holds up a hand. “It’s okay.”
I’m aching to tell him. “No, what I mean to say is—”
“Emmie. I know.”
“You can’t possibly.”
“Listen, I don’t want you to tell me you love me now just because I told you I love you, or because I booked us a trip.”
“I would never.”
“I just want you to have this moment for yourself. Soak it in. Don’t say anything. We’ll talk love stuff later.”
“Why do you get to say it?”
“Because I’m ready. I’ve known for a while.”
“How long’s a while?”
He leans forward to kiss my forehead. “I’ve had feelings for you for the past several months, but the first time we kissed, I knew I loved you.”
He’s perfectly composed in this moment. It’s both impressive and maddening, given my snotty state.
My natural urge is to ask, to question how and why and are you sure. But I don’t. Because I know exactly how it feels. In the moment, when it hits, there’s no doubt. It’s love, it’s real, and it is everything. I felt it yesterday when I woke in his arms.
“I told you we’d still argue,” he says.
My pursed lips give way to a smile. “I can’t believe you’re not letting me say it.”
His thumb grazes my lips.
“And I can’t believe you love me,” I say.
“Believe it. I thought my behavior these past couple weeks would be a clear indicator. I came so close to telling you yesterday.”
I shake my head, recalling that moment when he looked at me, emotion coursing through his eyes. It’s back today, only this time brighter. Now his blue-gray eyes focus, his teeth sparkle whiter, and his lips flush pink. He beams at me. We say nothing, taking comfort in the silence. Affection runs like a current between our bodies. We can thrive forever on this new electricity.
Finally, all bets are off, all shields are dropped, and we can fake no more. He’s flushed and giddy; I’m teary and overcome with joy. It’s the only way I ever want to exist with him.
When he runs his hand through my hair, I stop him with a hand on his arm. I press a kiss to the inside of his milky wrist.
“You’ll have to slather sunscreen on me nonstop,” he says. “It’s going to be annoying as hell.”
“I don’t care. I love it all.” It’s the closest I can get away with saying it right now.
In my head, I scramble to figure out the right moment to drop my love bomb on him. Maybe while walking along Hapuna Beach, just before sunset. Maybe during a swim at Magic Sands, the waves crashing over us. Or maybe when we’re huddled together in the crowds, watching the Ironman competitors race by. I’ll whisper it in his ear, so only he can hear.
For the millionth time, emotion has me by the throat, and I can barely speak. I shake with an unending amount of love I didn’t know I could feel until the person I least expected triggered it in me. My body is overwhelmed processing it all. By the way Tate stares at me, he can tell. And I can tell by how he holds me in his arms that he can barely take it either.
We kiss for the millionth time.
“It’s all perfect,” I whisper as I hug him. And it is. When I speak, it’s the truth. There’s no need to fake anything, not anymore.
Acknowledgments
I cannot believe I actually get to write acknowledgments for my first book . . . HOLY CRAP!
The very first person I need to thank is Steph Mills. Steph, thank you for recommending Gemma Burgess’s A Girl Like You all those years ago. Reading that book changed my life. Something in my brain clicked when I read it. A voice inside my head said, “See this? This is what you should be writing!” The moment I finished it, I started writing and haven’t stopped. I owe