Page 105 of What's in a Kiss?

“Now!” Jake shouts.

I hear him laughing, and I feel myself laughing as I sync myself with the rhythms of the waves. There’s a part of me that’s terrified, and a part that knows exactly what to do, and maybe that’s just life at its best, but I’ve only really felt it in this realm. I’m not going to forget what it’s like.

I paddle my arms and plant my feet. I rise on the board until I’m moving as one with the ocean. Jake is moving in tandem with me, a grin on his gorgeous face.

Like all good things, it seems to last forever, and thensuddenly it’s gone too soon. Our boards ride to a stop on the sand, and we’re still laughing as we come together, wrapping our wet arms around each other, wet suits squeaking as we embrace.

Facing the last lambent rays of sun amidst the unexpected storm, I put all thoughts of the future out of my head. I focus on what’s in my heart. I tip his chin to mine and kiss him like it’s the first time and the last.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Tarantula,” I say, pointing at the cloud unfurling above the violet horizon. “It’s a tarantula... ironing a bow tie—do you see it?”

Jake presses his lips to my shoulder. Kisses slowly twice. “If cloud-spotting were an Olympic sport, you’d be tested for doping.”

I give him a sidelong glance.

“Because you’d be so dominant!” he says.

Moments ago, we saw the sea take the sun like a shot of tequila. Now we’re warming up before the fire we’ve coaxed out of the least wet logs on the beach. We’re snuggling and laughing, putting off having a hard conversation.

“Look right above the tarantula,” I say. “There’s a bear.”

“Wearing a do-rag—”

I point at the shifting mass. “Now it’s Mary Magdalene.”

“Don’t you mean Bear-y Magdalene?”

“God likes to play, too.”

“But you’re still winning,” Jake says.

We’re huddled on a blanket I imagine we bought from a beach vendor on a trip to Mexico I can’t remember. Jake’s got an arm around me, and my hands are in the pocket of his hoodie. Through the soft, worn fabric, I can feel the muscles of hisstomach. I can feel his familiar heat. It’s so comfortable, so casually intimate, but I’m also aware of how soon this spell will be broken. How soon I’m going to have to break it.

“You’re not hungry?” Jake asks, nodding at the snacks he set out on the blanket. Popcorn, smoked almonds, and my new High Life favorite—Flamingo Estate dried strawberries, seasoned with a hint of chili pepper.

“I’m starving,” I admit. “I’m dying for a strawberry. But I’m also really happy with the current placement of my hands.”

Jake smiles at me, and flexes his abs for effect. Then he plucks a strawberry from the jar and brings it to my lips. I open my mouth, kissing his fingers in gratitude, then I lean toward his lips. The tangle of heat and berry on our tongues is blissful, and I could very easily go for a pentagasm right here. But Jake pulls away.

He looks up at the sky and lets out a long breath.

“Dad.”

I follow his gaze upward. Are we still playing the cloud game? The shape above us is a solid gob of gray, decidedly less playful than the wisps shifting in the fading light closer to the horizon.

If I had been here, in this marriage, all along with Jake, if I had grown into us honestly, moment by moment, I’d know what he means. I’d know the contours of his struggle and what to say to support him in his darkness. I hate that I don’t know. My silence feels feeble, disappointing, and it makes me want to tell him everything, starting all the way back at prom.

But I can’t. Even if—against all odds—he believed me, it wouldn’t change anything. I’d still be going home.

“I’m sorry, Olivia,” he says. In his pocket, he threads his fingers through mine.

“You’resorry?” I say. “I’m the one who should apologize. The way I acted on the yacht was—”

“You were trying to help me get something I want,” he says. “I overreacted because, well, you know why.”

I look up at the clouds, wondering if I do. “Your father.”