Page 103 of Tourist Trap

I stand there, looking at him, my eyes wide, my entire understanding of Miles and my relationship once again turned on its side.

"Oh my god, you're so in love with me," I whisper with a smile. "And you have been. For like, ever."

I mean it jokingly for the most part, but his face takes on a serious note as he steps closer, grabbing the shells from my hand and pocketing them once more before pulling me in close, his hand going to my chin.

"I really am." He rests his forehead on mine. "I'm so fucking in love with you, Claire; it's made me crazy for six years."

"Miles," I whisper, my throat tightening withstupidemotions, and he smiles as a tear slides down. His eyes soften as he swipes it away with his thumb.

"My sweet, soft girl," he whispers.

"You know I love you too, right?"

"Yeah, Claire. I do," he whispers against my lips. "But it's still good to hear you say it."

"I love you," I say, wanting to give him anything and everything he wants. "I love you, I love you, I love you. I have since I was nineteen, you know."

He smiles softly. "And I've loved you since you were nineteen and already driving me up a wall."

I let out a small laugh and a sniffle, a hand on either side of his face as I pull him down to kiss me. "Yeah, I guess you were kind of a creep, weren't you?"

He pinches my side, and I let out a laugh, trying to pull away, but he tugs me into him once more.

"I love you, and I always have. I hate the tourists, but the season brought you every summer, so I used to count down the months, waiting for you to come," he says, a whisper I can barely hear over the ocean. "But I don't want to wait for the summer anymore." My heart pounds, and he tucks hair away from my face. “So what do you think—any chance I can convince you to stay in this little tourist trap of a town with me?"

I stare at him for long moments as his words sink in. As my mind finally understands what I couldn't see for some time.

"This town isn't a tourist trap, Miles," I say with a shake of my head. He gives me a disbelieving look. "This town isn't a tourist trap, you are."

He looks at me confused, but I smile wider at him.

"You're a tourist trap, Miles Miller."

"What?"

I step closer to him, and he puts an arm around my waist, pulling me in close.

"You lure in unsuspecting tourists and make them want to stay forever."

"Is it working? Are you stuck here?"

"I'll stay for as long as you'll have me."

* * *

We make love that night. It's not the first time, and I hope to God it's not the last, but it's that: making love.

After, Miles sets up the fire pit and shows me the makings of s’mores he bought without my knowing. I sit on his lap in comfortable silence, eating my marshmallow and enjoying a perfect summer night.

Below us, people are still milling about, chatting and laughing on the boards, and families are out on the beach eating dinner or having dessert.

Sitting here, looking out, I'm hit with the overwhelming sense of home. It's a feeling I've never felt anywhere else, one I felt glimmers of over the last few summers, the most beautiful glimpses, but I only felt it wash over me the day I stepped into this house.

June told me Grant is confused as to why Miles won't just agree to sell the house, make a boatload on the sale, and buy something smaller, more low-key, and off the boardwalk, but I get it. There's something about this house that is so special that I want to keep it forever.

So finally, here on the deck, exhausted from one of the most fun and fulfilling days I can remember, after Miles and I finally confessed our feelings after dancing around it for months—years, if we're being honest—I decide to jump in.

"Hey, Miles?"

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