Page 47 of Love, Take Two

"Last day," Emory murmurs against my hair, and I can hear the same reluctance in his voice that I'm feeling.

"Don't remind me," I say, burrowing deeper into his warmth. "I'm not ready to leave this place."

"The resort or this?" he asks, tightening his arms around me.

"Both," I admit honestly. "This whole week has felt like living in a dream."

And it has. Between the luxury resort, the perfect weather, the wedding celebration, and reconnecting with Emory, everything has felt magical in a way that real life rarely does. Tomorrow we have to pack up and go back to our separate cities, our separate lives, and figure out how to make this work outside of paradise.

"We should probably talk about logistics," Emory says, though he makes no move to let me go.

"Probably," I agree, though the thought of planning and organizing and figuring out practical details makes my stomach twist with anxiety. "But maybe not right now?"

"Coffee first," he decides, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Everything's better with coffee."

Twenty minutes later, we're sitting on his terrace with steaming mugs, watching the resort staff clean up from last night's wedding celebration. The ceremony area is already being dismantled, white chairs stacked and floral arrangements being carefully packed away. It's efficient and professional, but seeing it all come down makes everything feel final.

"Erika and Jared are probably on their way to the airport already," I say, watching workers fold up the elegant linens.

"Honeymoon in Santorini," Emory confirms. "They looked so happy when they left."

"They did," I agree, remembering their glowing faces as they said goodbye to the remaining guests this morning. "It was really beautiful to see."

"Kind of makes you think about what you want your own future to look like," Emory says carefully, like he's testing the waters.

"Yeah," I say, but the word comes out smaller than I intended. Because thinking about the future brings up all the complicated questions we've been avoiding all week. Where would we live? How would we manage the travel? What if this paradise magic doesn't translate to real life?

"You okay?" Emory asks, clearly picking up on my shift in mood.

"Just thinking," I say, trying to push away the anxious thoughts that are starting to spiral. "About how different everything's going to be tomorrow."

"Different how?"

"You'll go back to your travel schedule, I'll go back to my event planning business in Portland, and we'll be trying to figure out how to make this work across distance and time zones and completely different lifestyles."

The words tumble out faster than I intended, and I can hear the edge of panic in my voice. Emory sets down his coffee mug and turns to face me fully.

"Vada," he says gently. "What are you really worried about?"

"That this was just a vacation romance," I blurt out, voicing the fear that's been nagging at me since I woke up. "That we got caught up in this perfect tropical setting and convinced ourselves we still have something real, when maybe we're just two people who had great chemistry in college and got nostalgic."

Emory is quiet for a long moment, and my anxiety ratchets up another notch. Maybe he's been thinking the same thing. Maybe he's relieved I brought it up so he doesn't have to be the one to suggest we pump the brakes.

"Is that what you think this is?" he asks finally. "Nostalgia and good vacation vibes?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. "That's what scares me. How do we tell the difference between real feelings and paradise magic?"

"Want to know what I think?" Emory asks, moving closer to me on the terrace furniture.

"Yeah."

"I think the paradise didn't create anything between us," he says, taking my hands in his. "I think it just gave us the space to remember what was already there."

"But what if we're wrong? What if we get back to real life and realize we don't actually fit together anymore?"

"Then we figure it out," he says simply. "But Vada, I've spent eight years dating other people and comparing them to you. Don't you think that means something?"

His honesty makes my chest warm, but it also brings up another worry. "What if I can't live up to whatever version of me you've been carrying around all these years? What if the real me disappoints you?"

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