Page 48 of Bind Me
“Bea,” Mikaela called out. “You have to tell us the story from the beginning. Did you really get stuck overnight together on one of the south islands after your first date?”
A chorus of delighted disbelief rose up, hungry for details.
Maris lifted her chopsticks. “And after that…ten weeks. Explain.”
“Ladies,” Georgina said, standing with a solemnity that fooled no one, “tonight we honor our bride through her first love language: fictional men and unreasonable standards.”
Naomi flipped open a dog-eared copy ofPersuasion. “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.” She looked up, one brow arching as a slow smile spread. “Reminds me of a man who once threatened the male two-thirds of Northgate into keeping their distance, and then white-knuckled sainthood for six months to give you space to heal.”
Someone sighed audibly, and Bea realized it was her.
Lillian set her cup down.“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”
Laughter echoed through the room as she closedGone with the Wind. Bea thought of Rafael’s lips and immediately had to take a sip of tea.
“Judging by your luminescence after he leaves,” Lils continued mildly, “I think you chose a professional in that department.”
Claire rose. Cleared her throat with absurd gravitas, dropped her voice an octave, and massacred a Scottish accent. “I meant to be gentle, but my need for ye is always greater than my good intentions.”
Bea folded in half laughing, along with everyone else.
“Jamie Fraser. Who by the way scores a nine on the chop-wood-shirtless-then-bench-press-you scale.” She angled a brow at Bea. “Rafael’s a ten?”
“Oh he’s aneleven,” Bea volleyed.
The room erupted. Bea half expected their security to rush inside and intervene.
When the volume finally softened, Isabel liftedAnne’s House of Dreams.“We pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; but the price we pay for love is worth it.”
Bea looked down at her cup so no one would see her throat work.
Her first love hadn’t been a mistake. It had been real and beautiful, but she couldn’t follow it forward without leavingparts of herself behind. This was different: there was room for all of her.
Whatever it cost, it was worth it.
“Three years ago, I said you had a type,” Georgie said. “Smart, loyal, self-made. Able to endure suffering while you take the scenic route back to him.” A blonde brow lifted. “Am I a prophet or what?”
Claire lifted her teacup, and every woman followed. “To our Bea. May your life continue to be as dramatic and romantic as your bookshelf prepared you for.”
Bea smiled, warm all the way through, and lifted hers in return.
And then the vibration came.
The floor shuddered underfoot as engines hummed close enough to feel. Heads turned one by one, metal catching at wrists and ears, while outside white lights swept across the water and the vessel eased into its berth.
Adrenaline slid through Bea’s veins. Because that sound meant he was here. It was now.
The First Crossing.
They’d joked about it in group chats. Now she wanted to google the ritual just one more time to prevent herself from unwittingly committing a cultural faux pas.
The whole “last night of freedom” thing had never made sense to her. Freedom wasn’t ending; something better was beginning. Where in movies bucks and hens devolved intosomeone ugly-crying into a feather boa, the UR version capped the evening with connection.
Because at the wedding, she would walk to him before the world. Tonight,hecrossed every step between them.
The men began to disembark, broad-shouldered and sure of themselves. Rafael came down last, one hand in his pocket, the sea wind pushing his hair back. Navy and khaki looked understated on him, but he carried the kind of certainty that made everything else feel secondary.
Before his shoes touched the dock, those green eyes had already found her. Even across the distance, it hit like contact.
