We don’t make it out of Nick’s apartment to look for breakfast until sometime after ten. I would be happy spending the entire day in his bed, but, unfortunately, our empty stomachs refuse to be ignored. While I have to admit I was looking forward to another of his amazing home-cooked breakfasts, I can hardly be disappointed when I see the cheery waterfront cafe he’s taking me to in Coconut Grove.
Overlooking a marina filled with sleek megayachts and tall-masted sailboats of all sizes, the outdoor restaurant is filled with a mix of people. Some drip with jewelry and logoed resort wear, while others are dressed in the tourist-casual staples of cargo shorts and T-shirts. Nick and I fall somewhere in the middle. He looks laid-back but unmistakably affluent in navy Bermuda shorts, deck shoes, and a white polo shirt.
As for me, I’m feeling feminine and pretty on his arm in my sleeveless, sky-blue linen wrap dress and flat sandals—my entire outfit high-end designer label, compliments of the Dominic Baine fantasy getaway collection. I’ve never had such fine, expensive clothes, but I know the heads turning in my direction are not so much about the way I’m dressed as they are about the man I’m with. The people here may not recognize him for the business titan he is, but I’ve witnessed more than once how Nick’s presence commands attention wherever he goes.
It’s impossible to ignore the hungered looks of more than a few of the other women who watch him now, nor their thin, envious glances that slide my way as an afterthought. As if he senses my anxiety, Nick’s palm comes to rest possessively at my lower back as we move through the restaurant with the hostess in front of us.
We’re shown to a table near the perimeter of the restaurant where thick nautical ropes section off the dining area from the walkway leading out to the docks. Seagulls glide over the boats, their cries mingling with the buzz of conversations around us.
Nick and I settle in and place our orders, then soon enjoy fresh fruit plates and light-as-air crepes, all served under a cloudless, sunny sky that couldn’t be more perfect. Even though the place is busy with boaters coming and going, it feels incredibly intimate being seated across from him, having breakfast at our thatch umbrella-covered table.
Somewhere along the way these past several weeks, it’s begun to feel natural and comfortable to be with him no matter where we are. It feels safe to be with him.
It feels . . . right.
That realization alone should fire off all kinds of warning bells inside me. Instead, it fills me with a joy that’s been missing from my life for so long, I’m astonished that it might truly be real.
Nick catches me smiling as I sip my coffee. “What are you thinking about?”
I shrug with the intent to evade the question, but it blurts off my tongue anyway. “I’m thinking that I’m happy.” I swallow, caught up in the oceanic blue of his gaze. “I haven’t been happy like this in a really long time. Maybe never.”
He reaches across the table for my hand and brings my fingers to his lips for a tender kiss. “Someday, Avery, you’re going to tell me why that is.”
He says it as if it will be my choice, but there is an unspoken demand in the intensity of his studying gaze. A shot of panic races through me at the thought. I can’t tell him more, no matter how far things end up going between us. There are some things he can’t ever know.
Aside from the lies I’ve told him about my personal life, the secrets I’m keeping about my past will make him either pity me or despise me. I couldn’t bear to see either of those things in his eyes. It’s hard enough seeing the question in his eyes now, as my silence lengthens.
To my relief, our waitress chooses this moment to come over and ask if we’d like anything else. The moment broken, I tuck my hands in my lap and decline her offer of more coffee. After our plates are cleared away and Nick has sent her for the check, I attempt to steer us toward safer conversation.
“Some of these boats are really incredible, aren’t they?”
I can see that he suspects my dodge, but he indulges me with a nod of agreement. I gesture to a blocky, gunmetal gray beast of a speedboat that’s just motoring in to dock. “Check that one out. It looks like something a James Bond villain would own.”
Nick chuckles when I wrinkle my nose. “You don’t like it?”
“It’s all right. Call me old-fashioned, but I like the sailboats best.”
His brows rise. “A woman after my own heart.”
His easy smile is devastating and his casual remark makes the air seem a little warmer, a little more electric. I take a sip of my coffee and try to pretend he’s not turning me on just by sitting across the table from me. “So, you like to sail, Nick?”
“I’ve puttered around from time to time,” he says. “When’s the last time you were out on the water?”
I wave my hand dismissively. “Oh, a long time ago. And never on anything like these boats. My grandpa had a Sunfish on the lake where they used to live. He’d take me out on that when I was little, and taught me a bit about sailing.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
I nod. “It was. Sometimes he’d let me help turn the sail. Mostly I just liked being out on the boat with him.” I release a slow sigh, reflecting on the time when things were different for me back home. When things were good. “It’s been a long time since I thought about those days.”
“Your grandfather doesn’t sail anymore?”
“He died when I was in my teens.” I could leave it at that, and probably should. But the wound is still fresh even after all this time and the words leak out of me in a quiet voice. “He’d been drinking late one night and made the mistake of getting in his car. He hit a tree on one of the back roads by the lake. Fortunately, no one was with him or on the road when he had the accident.”
“Jesus.”
Nick’s face grows solemn as I speak, almost stern. “I’m sorry you had to lose him like that.”
“It was a hard blow for all of my family. One of many,” I admit, knowing I can’t go any further with this memory than I already have.