Page 125 of You're The One
I intertwine our fingers and finally take in the view. Moments pass with only the chatter of other hikers and the wind.
I’m surprised when she whispers, “I wonder if she regrets it. Regretsme.”
The words knock the air from my lungs. I pull her into my lap, framing her face in my hands and tipping her chin until she’s looking at me.
“No. Never. That’s impossible. As someone who…” I pause, the words catching on a mess of emotion lodged in my throat. “As someone who thinks the world of you, I can say with absolute certainty: no one could know you and regret you, baby.”
Her breath catches, and she swallows again and again, but her gaze turns glassy despite her best efforts.
When tears streak down her cheeks, it wrecks me. But I’m grateful, too. Because for once, Mia’s not hiding. She’s cracked wide open, everything she holds so tight spilling out. And she’s trusting me to hold her through it. And I will. With both hands and everything I’ve got.
I kiss her cheeks, trying to clear her of the pain. I’d take every ounce of it if I could. Then I press my lips to hers in a messy kiss. One, I hope, says all the things I’m not.
When I pull back, I speak against her mouth, because I need her to remember this. “Never. Do you hear me? Never could she regret you.”
She nods, forehead resting against mine, breathing deeply through her nose. I can practically feel her reining it all back in.
And somehow, she does. She pulls back and meets my eyes, hers finally clear of the weight that sat there moments ago. In its place is that crystal-clear aquamarine I love so fucking much.
“But you do, right? Want kids? You said so when we were paddleboarding,” she whispers.
I shake my head without hesitation. “It’s not a deal-breaker.”
She studies me. “You said it was then.”
“Well… things change.”
“What’s changed?”
“Everything. And nothing at all.”
She bites her bottom lip, and I want to kiss her again. Instead, she tucks her head into the curve of my neck and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. I close my eyes, hoping to forget about the cameras for a minute longer.
“Where to next?” she asks.
Just as quickly as she let her guard down, she pulls it back up.
The day passes too quickly. We grab lunch from a food truck, trading bites while sitting on a curb and people-watching. Later, we pass a group of street performers. One of the hula dancers beckons Mia in, and to my surprise, she goes—her smile wider and more carefree than I’ve ever seen.
We stop for shaved ice next, bright red syrup staining her lips. At a roadside fruit stand, she talks me into trying some kind of passionfruit thing that’s messier than it’s worth. But I’d do it again, if only to hear her laugh when it drips down my arm and stains my shirt.
We practically have to roll ourselves home with how much we’ve eaten. My stomach aches from so much laughter. The day is light, free of the heaviness we worked through before the sun came up.
And when it sets, I kiss her goodnight.
It isn’t until I’m walking back to my room that I realize, with how easily Mia takes over every single thought when we’re together, I never told her about what happened with Emma.
THIRTY-NINE
Several hard knockson my hotel room door jolt me awake. My heart hammers from being ripped out of REM sleep, but there’s something else too. A low ache spreading behind my ribs. Excitement and hope, laced with what feels a lot like longing. The kind I usually reserve for places, not people.
But it can’t be Dom.
He’s supposed to have his date with Summer today. I’m not worried about that. What I am worried about is who’s getting the first suite date tomorrow. I can’t decide whether it would be better to go before or after Emma.
I scramble out of bed, tug on a robe, and shuffle to the door. When I open it, Summer’s standing there, holding two iced coffees. She hands me one and walks straight in, plopping down at the end of my bed.
“I’m here to help you get ready,” she announces by way of greeting.
