and how the fabric hugged my hips and cascaded into a pool of fabric like ripples in a lake at my feet.
“Charlie,” Wyatt, the director, called out. “Okay, run to Connor.”
Why did I feel like I was on some sort of romantic cheesy film? This was the fifth time I ran through the sand, barefoot, my dress flowing around me, my curls bouncing against the wind, before I jumped into his arms. Our backdrop was the Chicago skyline.
It didn’t feel natural because it wasn’t. I was still uneasy about our conversation earlier, and there was this tension between us that was palpable.
I couldn’t help it. I was bitter that he was leaving, but it didn’t make a lick of sense because I had known this. I had known this was going to happen. But what I could have never predicted was falling so deeply in love with him.
Wyatt yelled to the crew of cameramen in front of him, “Okay … again.” Then he turned toward us. “Please. Let’s make this believable. Do we need a break?”
Connor waved a hand. “Yeah, let’s take five.” He walked toward me, gripping my elbow, and pulled me to the side.
For the life of me, I couldn’t look him in the eye. I needed to get over this and stat.
He lifted my chin with the lightness of his fingertips. “I’m sorry, Charlie. For what I said earlier about your mom.”
I gently pulled his hand down, and my focus landed at the lake, at the beautiful skyline of Michigan Avenue. “We’re okay, Connor. Promise.”
“Then, why won’t you look at me?”
When my stare made it back to his face, he closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly.
“What are you doing?”
“Closing my eyes.”
The corner of my mouth ticked up for the first time in this whole session.
“Because it hurts to look at you. You’re so damn beautiful,” he repeated my words from many weeks ago, in the closet, our first time together.
My heart beat loudly in my chest—not just one beat, but two and three and four beats where there was a whole marching band in my chest.
“You’re crazy …” I said, full of emotion.
He opened his eyes, took my one hand in his, and went on bended knee. “I’m sorry, Charlie. Forgive me for wanting to spend every waking moment with you. Forgive me for wanting you to move with me.”
My breath caught as I stared deeply into the sea of brown gazing back up at me.
“But most of all, forgive me for falling in love with you when I wasn’t supposed to.”
“Connor …”
He stood, taking my other hand too, rubbing the top of my fists. “Listen, I don’t want to fight with you, not when we don’t have that long together. I know we both couldn’t have predicted this, but can we just do what we promised each other in that closet, in the dark … and make the most of the time that we have together?”
I swallowed back the lump in the back of my throat and nodded, falling into his arms. Because that had been the deal, that had been the plan—to live in the moment.
He squeezed me tightly against him, his arms wrapping along my lower back, and I nestled into his chest, a spot I swore that was meant for me.
“Let’s never fight again, okay?” His warm breath brushed against my temple.
“Okay,” I said, pulling back and giving him a sweet kiss.
“Hey!” Wyatt called over. “Lovebirds, are you guys ready? I’d like to get this done in the next hour.”
“Hold your panties. We’re ready,” Connor snapped back. He cupped my cheek, leaning so close that I could smell the mint on his lips. “Hey, read back the script for me.”
My hands fell on his wrists. “So, they’re past their first date, past the dating period …”
“Of six months,” he added.
I smiled. “And past the engagement … to the now. They’re here, just the two of them, professing their love to each other, on the beach, because this is how they always pictured it.” I went on my toes, our lips a millimeter apart. “This is the ending of their dating period. The finale. The end of their single life. But this … this marriage is the beginning of their lives together, as a family, as one.”
My heart fluttered, and my stomach dipped when he closed the gap between us and kissed me. He kissed me like I was the first woman he’d ever dated and the only woman that he wanted to spend