Page 46 of Lost At Sea With A Billionaire

“Well… for us.”

“You didn’t buy a house, did you?Because I would want to have input on that!”

Dark laughter poured from him, transforming his handsome face into a bliss of happiness.

“No, Chef.Follow me.”

He grabbed my hand, and we were off.

The salt spraykissed my face as the boat cut through the turquoise water.Beside me, Jonathan’s powerful frame relaxed against the cushioned seat, his arm draped casually around my shoulders.The sky stretched endlessly blue above us, so similar to the day we’d first set out on his yacht a year ago.

“Nervous?”he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I turned to face him, squinting against the Caribbean sun.“Why would I be nervous?”

“Being on these waters might bring up some difficult memories.”

I considered this, watching the horizon where a small green shape was gradually forming—our island.“It wasn’t all difficult,” I reminded him, sliding my hand over his thigh.“Some parts were...illuminating.”

His laugh rumbled deep in his chest.“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Captain Reynolds called out from the helm, interrupting our private moment.“We’ll be anchoring in about twenty minutes!The water’s too shallow for a closer approach.”

I felt a flutter of anticipation in my stomach.A year ago, to the day, this island had been our prison and our salvation.Now we were returning by choice, a pilgrimage neither of us had been able to resist.

So much had changed in that year.Salvaged had exceeded all expectations, after opening.Jonathan had restructured his pharmaceutical company to focus more on research and accessibility programs, stepping back from daily operations to pursue the lab work he’d always preferred.And we—well, we had built something between us that defied easy definition.

Not marriage, not yet.We’d both agreed that rushing into formal commitment would dishonor the trust we’d built.Instead, we’d grown together naturally, merging our lives at a pace that respected our independence and connection.

“There it is,” Jonathan said softly, pointing toward the now visible island.“Looks smaller than I remember.”

“Everything seems bigger when you’re trapped on it,” I replied, scanning the familiar coastline.

The boat slowed as Captain Reynolds guided us toward the same beach we’d washed ashore.The sand gleamed golden in the midday sun, the palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze.From this vantage point, it looked like a postcard paradise rather than the site of our desperate struggle for survival.

“We’ll wait here,” Reynolds called as he cut the engine.“Take your time.”

Jonathan helped me into the small dinghy, his hands steady on my waist.As we rowed toward shore, memories flooded back—the terror of the storm, the disorientation of waking on unknown sand, the gradual realization that we might never leave.

Our boat scraped against the sand, and Jonathan jumped out to pull it ashore.The warmth of the beach seeped through my sandals as I stepped onto the island once more.

“It’s just like I remember,” I said, turning in a slow circle.“And completely different.”

Jonathan nodded, his eyes tracking across the tree line.“Our shelter was there,” he said, pointing to a clearing that vegetation had since reclaimed.“And your kitchen was over there.”

We walked together, tracing the geography of our past.The fresh-water pool still bubbled clear and sweet.The rocks where we’d built our signal fire remained blackened.And the waterfall—I felt heat rise to my cheeks just thinking about it.

“Want to check if the water’s still cold?”Jonathan asked, catching my expression with a knowing smile.

“Later, maybe.”I took his hand, pulling him toward the far end of the beach.“First, I want to see something.”

We made our way to the western tip of the island, where the rocky outcropping created a natural platform overlooking the sea.This had been my favorite spot during our time here—a place where the ocean’s vastness seemed less threatening and more awe-inspiring.

“I used to come here to think,” I told him as we climbed the familiar path.“When the uncertainty got overwhelming.”

“You never told me that,” Jonathan said, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You had enough to worry about, trying to salvage that radio,” I teased, referencing his obsessive attempts to restore communication.

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