We walk along the beach on our way home from the wedding. It’s nearly 1:00 a. m. We’ve had the most amazing afternoon and night at the romantic beachside wedding.
There’s been laughter and dancing. Sebastian has been utterly gorgeous, and I’ve been swooning at his every word.
The moonlight is dancing over the water now, and the breeze is blowing through my hair. We stop walking and look out to sea.
Sebastian takes me in his arms, and I stare up at him. Our lips slowly meet and, unable to help it, my eyes close. I’m giddy over this man.
Like a wave in the ocean, attachment is beginning to flood through us. It’s exhilarating and terrifying.
Real.
Sebastian stares down at me, and it’s as if he can read my mind. A frown creases his brow. “What?” he asks.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t want to admit that I’m petrified of loving him-that this is all going to go south, and that the next time my heart breaks it might be beyond repair.
When I’m alone, I’m safe. Nobody can hurt me.
But…
“I don’t want to be that person anymore,” I whisper.
Our eyes are locked. “Me, neither. He says softly.
He kisses me, and I know that he feels the same. Unbridled fear is running between us like wildfire.
“Sebastian,” I whisper. “Promise me that we won’t fuck this up.”
“You know that I can’t.”
My eyes search his. He reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.
“I can promise you two things,” he says.
The wind whips through my hair. “Such as?”
“That you have me.” He takes my hand and places it over his heart. I feel the warmth of his chest. “And that I’m trying my hardest.” He leans down and kisses me softly. “You make me want to be a better version of myself. The old version… before…” He cuts himself off.
“What’s that old saying?” I stare up at him. “Love like you’ve never been hurt.”
“I wish I could.” His eyes search mine, “How do you do that?”
I shrug as emotion overwhelms me. For some reason, I tear up because, fuck,
I wish I knew.
He sits down on the sand, and I sit down beside him. We both stare out at the sea in silence.
I feel like I’m on the precipice of heartache.
Relationships are hard when both people are whole. Relationships are barely doable when one person is broken. But both parties…. how could that possibly work?
“Why did you stop seeing Duke?” he asks.
I frown, surprised by his question. “Because I didn’t love him.”
“How did you know that you didn’t love him?”
“Because it didn’t bother me if he slept with anyone else, which he did. We had an open relationship. Not that I ever slept with anyone else. I would never put a title on our relationship. I hated the thought of being tied down and trapped.”
“How does that differ to how you feel about me?”
“Because…” I pause. “From the first moment I saw you in the street with that homeless man, I could see you.”
“For what?”
“For who you really are.”
He stares at me.
“I’d been dating all these supposedly great guys who said they loved me. Then there was you, telling me you didn’t want me, acting like you hated me, treating me terribly, wanting me to be your whore… but deep down, I always knew.”
He drops his head as if overwhelmed with emotion. “Knew what?”
“That you and I would end up together on a beach on the Maldives one day.”
He breaks into a slow, sexy smile. “Hungover?”
“Only one of us is hungover.”
His eyes twinkle with a certain something. “The other one is smitten.”
I smile at the beautiful man in front of me. His eyes oozing with honesty. His hair windswept and wild. “I do love you, Seb. So much.”
“Show me.” He rolls us over so that I’m on top of him.
I sit up, my legs on either side of him, our most sensitive parts touching. I stare down at the beautiful man shining in the moonlight. “You’d better undo that fly on your pants, Mr. Sandman.”
He chuckles, and I go up onto my knees to give him room to move. He struggles and unzips his suit pants. “Now what?” He smiles up at me.
I pull my panties to the side. “We do this.” I slide down onto him.
He looks up at me in awe. “I like that we’re doing this.”
I smile, the double meaning not lost. “Me, too.”
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Hmm, what’s that?
“Hello,” Sebastian answers in a husky voice. He stands and walks over to the window and peers out onto the street below as he listens to whoever is on the phone. “Is he all right?”
He falls silent.
I rub my eyes as I watch him. Who’s he talking to?
“I’ll be on the first plane home.” He nods and turns. His eyes find mine. “See you soon.” He hangs up.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“They found Theodore.”
I smile. “Great.”
“He’s dead.”
April
I blink in surprise. “What?”
“He committed suicide. They found his body in a rental car in a forest in the north.”
My heart constricts. “Oh no. When?”
“It looks like a while ago. Probably as soon as he went missing.”
“God.” I sigh sadly.
“I have to go home.” He walks into the walk-in wardrobe and retrieves his suitcase.
“Of course.”
“You’re having a good time. Stay with the others. Fly home with them and I’ll meet you back in London.” He puts his suitcase up on the desk and begins to throw his things into it.”
“No, I’m coming with you.” I stand and retrieve my suitcase.
“It’s not necessary,” he mutters, completely distracted with his packing.” I can feel his stress levels skyrocketing by the second.
“Seb.” I hug him from behind. “I’m leaving with you.”
He turns and takes me into his arms. We stay silent for a while, just holding each other.
Suicide. Is there a worse death? So much sadness. So much pain.
“I’ll pack our things. You organize the flight,” I say with renewed purpose.
“Okay.” He kisses me. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I smile up at him. “Promise me that we can come back here.”
“I promise.” He pulls out of our hug and gets on his phone. “Hello, I need two seats on the first plane to London.” His eyes flick over to me. “Yes, chartered, if possible.”
He listens. “Three hours?”
I nod.
“Yes, okay, thank you.”
The plane lands on the runway. We’ve arrived in London.
I look over to Sebastian who has said two words the entire flight home. He’s staring straight ahead, leaning back against the headrest, lost in his own thoughts. There’s a deep sadness is within him. It’s circling around the both of us, taunting me of the happy weekend we’ve lost.
I wish I could say something worthy, something to make this all better, but there is nothing, so I stay silent.
Apparently, there are already whispers in the media. Bart has also called ahead to tell us the press is at the airport waiting for an update from their beloved Garcia. I guess they realize that if he’s coming home early, something big is going down.
Poor Theodore.