My Single-versary (Happy Endings 0.50)

“Skyler,” he says seriously. “I have a confession. I didn’t have a meeting last night.”

I laugh in surprise. “I figured that out.”

His rueful expression is endearing on his handsome face. “I was a little freaked out by how much I wanted to see you again,” he admits. “And then I had a realization while I was in the ocean earlier.”

“I hear time in the ocean can be as useful as time with a life coach.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “This was definitely a life-coachy moment. And here it is—sunset kisses are one of the best things, but only if they lead to more than a tropical tryst.”

I am . . . cautiously intrigued. “Is that so? What sort of more did you have in mind?”

“The sort of more that says it might be a challenge to date someone in San Francisco when you live in San Diego. It’ll definitely take effort, and meticulous scheduling. It requires planning, and planes. But . . .”

He doesn’t finish, and I don’t know how he’ll complete the sentence, only how I want him to. “But what, Caleb? Is this another if?”

“No.” He’s confident. Certain. “There are no ifs. No ifs at all.

No ifs at all.” He slides his arms around my waist. “If you think about it, all that planning will be a lot like snorkeling.”

I arch a questioning brow. “Dating me is like snorkeling?”

“Yes, as in, worth it.” His hands curl around the small of my back, tugging me closer. “Was snorkeling worth it?”

“Snorkeling was the perfect way to spend a day. Sort of like watching sunbathing turtles.”

“Ah, so you’re saying dating me is sort of like spying a sunbathing turtle.”

I smile, a little teasing, a little inviting. “I can’t think of a higher compliment.”

“In that case, Skyler, would you like to continue this tropical tryst? Maybe turn it into something more? Because I really hope you’ll break your man-batical for me.”

I shake my head. “I would, Caleb, but I can’t. I’m not on a man-batical anymore. I broke it with you, and I’m one hundred percent fine with that. I want to see where this takes us.”

“Let’s see if it takes us into a stateside steady zone.”

And steady zones need kissing. So I lift my face to his and plant a kiss on those yummy lips. A warm Hawaii kiss that makes my toes curl and my chest flip. He moans softly as I slide against him. Smiling, I tug him a little closer, savoring his reaction and getting a little more lost in his kiss.

A familiar voice interrupts from a few yards down the beach. We break apart.

“Oh, how romantic!” cries Mrs. Wainwright, clasping her hands in front of her. “I know you’re busy—sorry, not sorry—but I just have to say something to Caleb.”

“What’s that, Mrs. Wainwright?” he asks politely.

She thrusts her arms in the air, dancing a victory jig. “Called it! I told you she was your girlfriend-to-be.”

“Actually,” he says, still with his arms around me, “I’m hoping she wants to be my girlfriend right now.”

And I do, so I say, “Unless Don Juan makes a better offer, I’m game.”

Epilogue

Skyler

* * *

Months Later

* * *

Katie kicks me out of her town car at the San Francisco airport.

Well, lovingly kicks me out.

“Go, go, go,” she urges. “I’ve got a yoga class, and you’ve got your man to see.”

I slide out of the back seat. “Thanks for the lift.”

“What are friends for?” I throw my arms around her in a quick hug, then I stare at her engagement ring when I let go. “And we’re dress shopping soon.”

She beams. “I can’t wait. I’m over the moon to marry him,” she says of the guy she met a few months ago. One whirlwind engagement later, and here she is—almost hitched.

“And I can’t wait to be your bridesmaid,” I say.

“Go have a fabulous weekend,” she says.

I take off, knowing I will, grateful, too, for all her support and friendship.

Glad I can give the same back to her.

I could make my way to the San Diego airport’s pickup zone with my eyes closed. I wheel my suitcase behind me just as a car pulls over to the curb. The door opens, and the ruggedly handsome driver gets out.

“Need a lift?” Caleb asks with a grin.

“Sure. Can you take me to this guy’s house? I have a tryst with him in, oh, about twenty minutes.”

“I bet I can get you to his house in fifteen,” he says, taking my bag and adding with a cheeky grin, “I’m highly motivated.”

This I could do on autopilot too—getting in the car, clicking my seat belt. But I wouldn’t want to miss what comes next.

Caleb reaches over the console and cups my cheek, his eyes loving, his voice gentle. “Hi. Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” I say softly, leaning into his touch. “So much.”