Page 25 of When We Had Forever
“Because I only just met you.” Briefly, I think of Kate’s beloved women’s magazines, filled with articles about how to ensnare men by acting mysterious and eternally hard-to-get. Somehow, I get the feeling that’s unnecessary here.
Michael confirms it by saying, “Maybe you’re thinking exactly what you should be.”
“Maybe.” I shift, full of a verve I don’t quite know what to do with. “Except...I’m leaving. I’m going on an adventure.”
“Not all adventures are geographical.” He briefly releases the wheel to push his hair back, leaving his other hand safely entwined with mine. “Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t go. You should do everything you’ve spent years dreaming about. But I don’t think living well has much to do with where you are. It’s about the moments you create. And the fact that you can find beauty and meaning anywhere, if you look.”
“That...might be the wisest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about. I’m sure it’s one or the other.”
I’m convinced hedoesknow what he’s talking about, but I don’t get the chance to say so, because he arrows through a gap in oncoming traffic and onto a dirt pull-off. “Here we are.”
When I look around, Canada steals my breath. We’re perched on an overlook that faces the ocean. Majestic pines march down the hillside. Beyond the glittering span of water, mountainous islands burst from the sea, wreathed in myriad shades of green. Even the sky seems bluer here, full of buttery sunshine and fleecy, playful clouds.
“Wow,” I say. “What is this place?”
“The Sea to Sky Highway.”
“It’s incredible.”
“It is.”
When I turn, Michael isn’t watching the scenery. He’s staring at me. “I would never ask you to stay,” he says. “Not for my sake.”
I freeze. “You wouldn’t?”
“I’m notthatselfish.” His voice softens. “But I do want to ask you something else. Just...not here.”
“Oh. Okay. Where, then?”
He gestures past the overlook. “Down there.”
I nod, rendered mute by a spear of longing. Was I hoping hewouldask me to stay? Do I even want to answer that question?
No. I’m leaving. This...whateveris only temporary.
Michael flashes a smile probably intended to reassure me. He gets out, fishes his swim trunks from his suitcase, and inconspicuously changes by his side of the car while I dutifully stare at the floor mat. Afterward, he strolls off to gaze at the water while I wriggle into my bikini in the front seat.
The whole time, my heart throbs. What could he possibly want? For me to keep in touch? Look him up when I get back?
Leaving my clothes puddled on the leather seat, I emerge wearing my tiny red two-piece and flip-flops. My long black hair tickles the small of my waist, but even though I’m half-naked, I pay no attention to the traffic whizzing past or the way the ocean breeze raises the hairs on my arms.
Michael turns at my approach. “Oh. Oh, wow.”
I stand at the top of the hillside and let him stare, because the way he does it feels like a caress. His eyes sweep downward, darkening as they trace the line of my shoulder, the curve of my hip, the taper of my calves. He looks at every bit of me, then returns to my face. Hunger blazes in those sea-swept eyes.
Faint surprise stirs. I’m small in every way—short, fine boned, small breasted, narrow waisted. And while I don’t dislike my tininess, it’s Kate’s brand of statuesque glamour that fills magazines and splashes across billboards.
Right now, though, I wouldn’t trade the way Michael is looking at me for anything.
“Come on.” He turns away. The roughness in his voice makes it sound like he’s trying to control himself. Which I sincerely wish he wouldn’t.
With a sigh, I follow him down the hillside, weaving between the pines. Michael offers a steadying hand, making sure I don’t slip on the carpet of fallen needles. Halfway down, we reach a rock-ringed pool. A river jets over a stone outcropping, forming a waterfall complete with a ghostly, misted rainbow. Michael shucks his shoes at the water’s edge, then pulls his shirt off and drapes it over a rock.
My mouth goes dry. He’s so beautiful it’s criminal. Long, smooth muscles come together like someone spent painstaking hours sculpting him that way. He has edges where most men don’t, definition where I wouldn’t have expected any.
When he turns, I zero in on the ridges of his abdomen and the sparkling silver chain resting against the impressive swell of his chest.
