Suddenly, distant laughter matched ours. We shifted our attention yards ahead to the shoreline, where a little boy—no more than five—ran along the sand, gleefully piloting a whale-shaped kite in his hands. His big eyes were glued to the kite floating in the cloudless blue sky.
“If only we could go back to a time when the best day ever was flying a kite,” I said, watching the boy.
“Before the world got its hands on us,” Asher said quietly, with sorrow trembling behind the words.
Asher’s eyes seemed to have swallowed a dark cloud, and looking at this little boy, on this very day, I knew why.
We stood there shoulder to shoulder, neither of us saying a word as we took in the boy’s awed smile. Finally, I felt Asher’s eyes on me.
“Hey,” Asher said, softly.
I turned to look at him.
“I think—” He stopped, hesitating to continue, as if he didn’t want to upset the rush of our bodies side by side in a body of water. “I have a feeling that some part of today wasn’t easy for you. I don’t exactly know why, I mean I can guess, but I’m here for you, if you ever want to talk about it.”
I felt a sinking weight in my pounding chest. I wasn’t sure if it was the ache of a bad memory, or the fact that a man I had once loved was making me fall in love with him all over again. Maybe it was a little bit of both. My mouth was open as waves thrashed around me. I couldn’t find a way to deliver the words. While this afternoon’s studio heroics left me buzzing—plucky and brave—some part of my past still felt too delicate for him to hold. I sucked in the salty air as Asher shifted his hard jawline.
“Same,” I found myself saying.
“What?” he asked, tilting his head at me in confusion.
“I know what today means for you. I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
Asher put his hand over his jaw and flicked his eyes away from mine.
Today was his late brother’s birthday. July fourteenth. His brother should be turning thirty-eight. Instead, he was a weight inside Asher’s chest. I knew his brother’s birthday was the reason Asher had flown to the Hamptons for the weekend. It was the reason Asher had assembled a team in a recording studio on a Sunday. He hated sitting quietly with his own pain on this painful day. Strangely, it was also one of the reasons I was able to sing earlier in the afternoon, when all I wanted to do was crumple to the floor. Asher’s brother would be seventeen forever. I was alive with the ability to rise and grow out of my own trauma. I refused to be stuck in a moment when I had a lifetime ahead of me.
After I found out about Asher’s brother during our second summer at camp, the July fourteenths that followed went the same way: I didn’t dare leave his side until the sun came up. I wondered if this day would be any different.
“You remember? You remembered that today was his…” Asher trailed off, wide eyes taking me in.
There was pain and longing stuck in my throat as I opened my mouth.
“Everything about you is impossible to forget,” I said.
He tilted his head at me, his body inching closer to mine.
“Do you want to forget?” he asked in a soft voice.
I shook my head.
“Me, either,” he said, exhaling with his full body.
He stood above me with ocean water dripping down his parted lips, his arms at his sides, and his palms facing me. I was his, if I wanted. If I wanted to wrap myself around his body, I could. I stared at the shape of my figure reflected in his gold shades: a blue bikini tight against my wet body, long curls dripping water down my chest. I looked like a vintage photograph of myself, like I was alive inside a real dream, with my heart beating outside my chest. The waves broke over and over against our naked spines, but we didn’t dare move. I looked down at my shaking fingers—as if I was losing solid ground by not holding on to him. Asher swallowed hard and took the sunglasses off his face. His eyes were somehow both hungry and tender, and I watched them scan every line on my face.
I took a daring step toward him. We stood inches apart, his body shielding me from the incoming waves. I lifted my hand up to his cheek and ran my trembling finger over the tiny white scar across his chin. Asher’s eyes closed at my touch, with his mouth parting. I settled my hand around the back of his neck, holding on to warm, familiar, solid ground. I took one step forward, letting my racing chest pound against his. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, as if the wonder of our bodies pressed against each other was too much—as if it had overpowered his ability to activate his other senses.
The air thickened around us as the heat of our mouths exhaled onto each other, lips unmoving. I felt his chest rise against my heaving breasts as he opened his eyes onto mine. His hand moved up the curve of my neck, sending a pulse through my entire body. He knotted his fingers in the back of my wet curls, with eyes on my lips.
All I could do was pull his mouth onto mine. The taste of salt water on our lips disappeared over and under our hot tongues. We held each other tighter and tighter in the cold water, wet limbs throbbing against each other. Asher Reyes lit my shivering body up like fireworks in a rainstorm.
In some ways, it felt a lot like our first kiss. Instead of a dock above the lake, there was an ocean, but the fervor and the romance swirled inside me the same way. Kissing Asher Reyes felt like exhaling sparks from my lungs. It felt a lot like “I found you.” Except this time, I knew what it felt like to let go.
I didn’t want to let go.
36
THIRTY-FIVE
SOMETIME LATER, MY WET BACK slammed against the tapestried wall of the sunny pool house. The guest bedroom was stark white on cream, with a view of the ocean in front of us. I wanted to mess up the entire place with Asher by my side. He kissed me hard, and I kissed him back harder.
I clenched my hands around Asher’s drenched hair, tugging him closer as he throbbed against me. His lips left mine, and I opened my eyes to the ceiling as the warmth of his mouth went around my ear, sending a rush of heat down my spine. His lips found mine again as his fingers etched up my rib cage, stopping at my bikini top. He pulled his mouth off me, kissing the sand on my clavicle, kissing me until his mouth was over the thin fabric separating my breast from his lips. Asher tugged at my nipple through the cold, wet fabric, weakening my knees. I felt his hands untie the bikini behind my back, effortlessly sending it to the floor. Before I could catch my breath, his warm mouth found my breast, and he kissed me down my rib cage, to my hip bone, biting the inside of my thigh as I leaned back against the wall, gripping his hair with trembling hands. He looked up at me, pulling back slightly with his mouth near my bikini line.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
I admired my legs, which were shivering. All of me was. I wasn’t sure how long we had been out in the ocean, but it felt like we had kissed until our mouths were numb—and maybe we had kissed until my body was as well.
He slowly appeared at my face, with his hands on either side of my arms—cold wet skin against cold wet skin.
“Come here,” he said, against my chapped lips.
I exhaled as he clasped his fingers in mine and led my body to a stone fireplace in the corner of the bedroom. I watched him toggle with a smart pad on the wall. Suddenly, I blinked back a roaring fire, which seemed to melt the outside of my cold, wet skin—catching up with my insides. Asher pressed another button, and the thick, blackout shades closed, turning the harsh afternoon light into a midnight.