Page 49 of Love, Take Two

"Maya can wait," I say firmly. "Today is about us."

We spend the morning exactly like that—talking, laughing, sharing stories we haven't had time for during the busy wedding week. Emory tells me about his travel adventures that didn't make it onto social media, the lonely hotel rooms and financial stress behind the perfect content. I tell him about building my business, the clients who turned into friends, the satisfaction of creating something entirely my own.

Around noon, we finally get dressed and venture out of the suite for lunch at one of the resort's quieter restaurants. The wedding guests who haven't left yet are scattered around the resort, everyone looking relaxed and slightly tired from last night's celebration.

"There they are!" Derek's voice carries across the restaurant patio, and I see him approaching our table with what appears to be a tropical drink despite it being barely past noon. "The lovebirds! How are you two feeling about your last day in paradise?"

"Good," I say diplomatically, though privately I'm grateful that Derek's leaving tomorrow too and won't be able to provide running commentary on our relationship much longer.

"You know," Derek says, settling into an empty chair without being invited, "you two should really consider doinga destination wedding yourselves. After watching Erika and Jared's celebration, I'm convinced tropical weddings are the way to go."

"Derek," Emory says with remarkable patience, "we're taking things one day at a time."

"Right, right," Derek agrees with a knowing wink. "But when you do decide to tie the knot, just remember who introduced you to the magic of Paradise Cove."

"You didn't introduce us to anything," I point out with amusement. "We literally ran into each other by accident."

"Details," Derek waves off my correction. "The important thing is that love found a way."

He wanders off to bother other guests, leaving us both shaking our heads but smiling.

"He means well," Emory says.

"He really does," I agree. "In his own completely inappropriate way."

The afternoon passes peacefully. We walk along the beach, swim in the calm waters, take photos that are just for us instead of for social media. As the sun starts to set, we find ourselves back on Emory's terrace, watching the sky turn brilliant shades of orange and pink.

"I'm going to miss this view," I say, leaning back against his chest as we watch the sunset.

"Me too," he agrees, his arms tightening around me. "But I think I'll miss this more."

"This?"

"Us. Being together like this, no pressure, no schedule, just... us."

"We can have this in Portland too," I point out.

"I know. But it won't be exactly the same."

He's right, and that knowledge creates a bittersweet feeling that I'm not quite ready to examine. Tomorrow we'll pack up our perfect week and try to translate it into real life. Some things will carry over—our compatibility, our chemistry, our genuine feelings for each other. But some things will be different. We'll have work stress and daily responsibilities and all the mundane details that paradise protected us from.

"What are you thinking about?" Emory asks, probably sensing my mood shift.

"Just that tomorrow everything changes," I say honestly.

"Not everything," he says, turning me in his arms so I'm facing him. "The important stuff stays the same."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he says, sealing it with a kiss that tastes like tropical sunset and new beginnings.

Later that night, after dinner and dancing under the stars and one last swim in the bioluminescent bay, we make love with an intensity that feels both desperate and hopeful. Like we're trying to memorize each other, to capture this perfect moment before real life intrudes.

"I love you," Emory whispers against my skin afterward, and the words don't surprise me because I've been feeling them all week.

"I love you too," I whisper back, meaning it completely.

As we drift off to sleep in each other's arms, I realize that tomorrow isn't really an ending. It's just the next chapter of something that started eight years ago and got interrupted for a while. We're older now, more sure of ourselves, ready for what scared us off the first time.

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