Page 122 of Booked on You
“Yeah,” I say, chuckling.
“We’re proof of that. But I dunno if I can be habituated into a world where you don’t exist, Scarlett,” he says.
“I know what you mean,” I say, understanding completely. “You’re unforgettable.”
Ezra grins as he pulls two plates from the cabinet. “Ahh. Well. So are you.”
His face softens, and he briefly steps away from the stovetop and moves beside me. Ezra tucks loose strands of hair behind my ear before he kisses me gently. My eyes close, and I take in what it feels like to slide my lips against his and to taste the sweet wine on his tongue.
“What was that for?” I whisper.
Ezra smiles against my lips. “You looked like you needed it.”
We sit at the bar top and eat fish and a steamed vegetable medley he prepared.
Afterward, Ezra grabs the wine bottle and loops his fingers in mine, leading me outside. The warm summer air hits my face, and I inhale the smell of salt and seaweed. All I can do is smile because I don’t have a care in the world.
“Tell me about that smile,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me to the sand. It pushes between my toes and is still warm from baking in the sun.
“I’m living in the moment,” I admit.
“Mm. And how is this particular moment?”
I memorize the texture of his hand and how large it is, and feel the breeze against my skin, filing it all away in my mind.
“It’s a fairy tale.”
He laughs, leading me to the shore. “Coming from the queen of romance, that means a lot.”
“The queen? No.”
“It’s cute when you’re modest.”
I feel heat rise to my cheeks. A compliment from him means something because he doesn’t give them haphazardly.
The moonlight reflects across the water as the waves roll in a steady rhythm.
When I turn my head, I notice wood is stacked in a firepit, ready to light.
Butterflies flutter. “You set this up?”
“While you were writing.” He releases my hand and kneels by the wood. He pulls a lighter from his pocket. “There’s something special about having a fire on the beach.”
Special. The word echoes in my head. This man keeps doing things I stopped expecting from a partner. Things I only wrote about, but never lived, until now.
The kindling catches quickly. Small flames lick up the sides of the larger logs. Within minutes, the fire is crackling and throwing orange light across the sand and our faces.
A blanket is folded with firewood placed on top. Ezra spreads it across the ground, then pulls me down beside him. He thought of everything. We lie back on the blanket, and the fabric is soft under my shoulders.
Above us, stars have started to appear. I recognize a few constellations that rise one at a time, like someone is turning on tiny lights. The ocean crashes in a rhythm that alternates between whooshes and pauses. My breathing syncs to it, and I feel my entire nervous system let go. It’s like the stress of my deadline vanishes.
“I wished for this,” I say.
“I did, too.”
I turn my head to look at him. The firelight catches his side profile. I can see the sharp line of his jaw that’s sprinkled with stubble and the dip in his bottom lip.
“Do you think this is destiny?” I can’t stop thinking about how I personalized that book when I signed it for his mother.
