Adore Me

Thursday, November 24th

Thanksgiving Day

What if bullshit.

5:50am

I wake up when I realize I forgot to close the curtains before we went to sleep. It’s dawn and there’s a soft breeze flowing through the windows.

I slip out of bed carefully so that I don’t wake Aiden. He makes a sleepy little moan, then rolls over onto his stomach as I hit the button to close the curtains so the sun won’t wake him.

I head to the bathroom, throw on a bikini, and then wrap myself in one of the long teal cashmere robes that is a fixture in every room. Peeking back at Aiden, who seems to be sleeping soundly again, I sneak out to enjoy one of my favorite parts of the day when I’m at the beach.

I wander down the pathway to the sand, curl up in one of the big daybeds, and stare out at the ocean.

A little later, I hear the toy shed opening. I turn around and see Damian walking out with a surfboard.

“You’re up early,” he says to me.

“I forgot to close the curtains.”

“My internal clock is on a different time zone. You wanna grab your board and go out with me?”

“Um, probably not,” I say in a sad, pathetic voice.

Damian jams his board into sand. “What's your problem?” he asks in pissed off tone.

“I have a whole lot of problems, Damian. Which one are you referring to?”

“Well, that’s one of them, right there. Last night you were crazy. Sometimes you seemed like you were ready to burst into tears. Other times you seemed pissed off at the world. Sometimes there were glimmers of a smile. And other times you acted like a big bitch, just like you are now.”

“He put a sticker on my board,” I say quietly.

“Aiden did?”

“No, B did. Sometime between when he told me he was leaving and my party.”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

“He was telling me the truth. He did want to throw me in his suitcase and take me with him. And if I hadn’t almost gotten kidnapped and left for Eastbrooke, the next time I surfed I would’ve seen the sticker and known. And I would have gone to wherever he was.”

Damian grabs my wrists tightly. “This has to stop. All this what if bullshit. It's not your fault you were almost kidnapped by some psycho dude. You can only control now. The present. And if in the future you get your life back, then you can decide if you want to give B a chance. But until then, you need to live in the now. It's not every guy that gives you dirt, ya know.”

“I only have 79 hours left.”

“Until what? Are you dying?” he says in a panic.

“No, although it feels like part of me is. I have 79 hours left until I end it with Aiden. I’m not going back to Eastbrooke.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet. Somewhere I can hide out while I try to take over Vincent's company.”

“You need to go back. You’re safe there.”

“I have a feeling that when this all goes down it will not be pretty. Seriously, Damian, it might all blow up in my face. That’s why Peyton needs to be just a fling.”

“But, if you’re not going back, I could date her.”

“If he found out you were together and that I went to Eastbrooke, neither one of you would be safe. Don’t do that to her, Damian. Don’t put her in that kind of danger.”

“I have a better idea. You go back and I’ll keep our relationship a secret.”

“Your relationship? Damian, you've known her for less than twenty-four hours.”

“And it only took about two seconds of those hours for me to know. All of a sudden, I’m a fate loving, love-at-first-sight believing, fairy-tales-can-happen kind of guy.”

“That sounds like a song.”

“Speaking of songs, I'm writing one. I've never felt more inspired. Everything looks prettier with her in the picture.”

“Aren’t you going on tour again?”

He gives me a smart-ass grin. “Studio time. Recording a new album, then touring the good ole U.S. of A. And I was thinking this morning, Dad's got a sweet apartment in New York City that I've never taken advantage of, and with my stepmom pregnant, they won't be using it any time soon.”

“Your dad and Tommy start filming the third Trinity movie there in December.”

“Shit. Well, it's a big place. Or maybe I'll just get a little apartment near your school.”

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Fine. I'm being impetuous and crazy. But come on, Keats, you've known me forever. Have you ever seen me like this?”

“No. But maybe you're just sick of groupies and craving a girlfriend. It doesn’t mean she’s the one. You’re barely eighteen.”

He shakes his head and squints his eyes at me. “No, don't say that. You of all people. Maybe Vincent changed your life, but don't you dare let him change who you are. You should be clapping and jumping with excitement. You should have a huge smile on your face and that dreamy look in your eyes.” He pulls me up off the daybed and twirls us around in a circle. “Be happy for me. Be excited. Be your usual hopeless romantic self. Write me a script where I'm the prince and not the frog. Make a wish on the moon. Or a shooting star. Or at 11:11. Throw a penny in the fountain. Tell me you saw the green flash.”

Tears flow from my eyes as I remember my old self. The girl who saw possibilities instead of roadblocks. The girl who believed in fairy tales and wishes.

We stop spinning and both drop dizzily back onto the daybed.

“I’ve been trying not to, Damian,” I say, wiping my tears. “But I can’t pretend. This is my reality. Vincent was there when I went to see B surf. When I saw my mom in New York. When I went to Vancouver. My drama teacher almost invited him to my school so I could audition for his movie. You don’t understand. I can never let my guard down. I have to monitor every word I say. Think about every move I make. I can't live in the moment anymore.”

“Maybe you can’t at school, but you can here.”

I shake my head. “I wish I could, but when Peyton told me some guy was walking up the beach, my first thought was that it was him.”

Damian nods. “Okay. I get it. But I’m here now. So I want you to let go and at least enjoy your next 79 hours. Stop holding Aiden at arm’s length and let him in.”

“What about B?”

Damian frowns and furrows his eyebrows. “Fine. You want reality? Here’s reality. B cares about you. But he chose his dream over you.”

“That sounds so harsh.”

“It’s supposed to be harsh. It’s the truth.”

“But he said . . .”

“What he said doesn’t matter right now because you can’t be with him. So, move on. Besides, it’s Thanksgiving. You should be thinking about what you’re thankful for.”

“I’m thankful for you, Damian.” I get tears in my eyes again. “I’m sorry. I swear, all I do anymore is cry. But I really am glad you’re here. And I’m glad you met Peyton. So, if after this weekend you still want to see her, you can have my loft.”

“Yeah, what’s that all about? You bought a loft and didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t tell anyone from my old life; not even my mom. I needed somewhere safe to go.” I smile. “It’s a really awesome place. You’ll love it.”

“So, is that where you’re gonna fight Vincent from?”

“Oh, no. I can’t go back. I took Aiden there and he . . . well, he infused it with love potion.”

“Love potion?”

“He has special powers.”

Damian doesn’t look convinced. “Like what?”

“When he’s around, my head feels like it’s filled with cotton candy and I can’t think. His smile is as bright as the sun. He knows what I’m thinking even before I can think it. I’m almost positive his tongue is infused with love potion. You should be careful because I think his sister might have . . .”

“Her tongue is definitely infused with love potion,” he says dreamily.

“Damian, how do you know that?”

“We hung out last night.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“No, I was a gentleman and dropped her off at her door, where I kissed the hell out of her. And then I couldn't sleep. Which is why I'm up so fucking early. I wish she'd just wake up already. Shouldn't she be dying to see me?”

“Text her.”

“And say what? Wake the fuck up so I can see that gorgeous smile again?”

“That’d work for me.”

He smiles and pulls out his phone. “I’m going to text her and you’re going to do two things. The first one is to stop blaming yourself.”

“And the second?”

“March your ass to Aiden’s room and start living in the present.”

I nod, agreeing with him. “You’re right. I shouldn’t waste what little time I have left with him.”

“Exactly. So go wake him up and let’s have some fun.”

“I’m gonna run up to the house and get him breakfast; then I’ll see if he wants to surf with us. I don’t know if he even knows how.”

When I get in the house, I find Peyton in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of orange juice and smiling at her phone.

“Have you seen Aiden?” she asks with a smirk. “I don’t think his bed was slept in last night.”

“It wasn’t. He stayed with me.”

“Ooh la la.”

“It's not like that. We're not having sex.”

“I bet you do before this trip is over.” She waggles her eyebrows up and down and grins.

“No, we won’t.”

“Is that what the dirt means? Taking it slow?”

“That’s part of it, yeah.”

She sighs as she picks up a muffin and examines it.

“It’s coconut-banana with an orange glaze.”

“Yum,” she says, putting it on her plate. “I’ve never really taken it slow before. Damian seems like he’s a gentleman.”

“I take it he didn’t jump your bones last night?”

“It’s not just that but, like, he held the door open for me when we went outside. He has great posture. And last night, there was this big moth and he kinda protected me from it. He just has this presence—like, he makes me feel safe.” She smiles. “He even walked me to my door last night. We kissed,” she says slowly touching her lips. “It was . . .”

Damian sneaks up behind her, kisses her cheek, and finishes her sentence. “The best kiss of her life.”

She smiles and playfully slaps his arm. “I wasn't going to say that.”

Damian grabs her, tickles her sides, and pulls her into a chair with him. She squirms around, laughing and screaming, but then Damian stops her screaming with his lips.

They kiss.

And kiss.

And keep kissing.

“Uh, I’m gonna go take Aiden some breakfast,” I say, even though I’m ignored.

Die by the wave.

6:40am

I set Aiden’s food on the nightstand and then gently perch on the edge of the bed.

He’s still lying on his stomach and I can’t help but admire his muscular back, the adorable way his buff arm is curled under his head, and the sexy scruff trailing across his cheek.

I reach out and run my hand through his soft hair.

He opens his eyes slowly and sits up. “Mhmm. I was just having the best dream.”

“I’m sorry I woke you, then.”

He quickly pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head. “Don’t be. This is even better than the dream.”

“I was going to let you sleep in, but Damian wants to surf. Have you ever surfed before?”

“No, I never have.”

“Well, then either I can teach you, you can watch, or you can eat and go back to sleep. I brought you a smoothie and a couple homemade granola bars. When we’re done surfing, Inga is making Damian’s favorite breakfast.”

“What’s the favorite breakfast?” he asks, while taking a drink of his raspberry-coconut smoothie.

“Homemade cinnamon waffles drizzled with her amazing pecan caramel sauce and spicy fried potatoes. The combination of the spicy and sweet is to die for.”

“That sounds really good.”

I snuggle closer to him and close my eyes. “Aiden, I’m sorry about yesterday. My emotions were kinda all over the place.”

“It’s okay. Mine were too.” He rubs his palm down my arm. “I was afraid you’d kick me off the plane, then I was so happy you didn’t, then I was pissed when I thought Damian was your ex. Then, after you put your board away, you seemed really distant. But what you said about being afraid you’d never lay on my shoulder again made it all worth it. I went to sleep feeling quite content.”

I laugh. “Sounds to me like your feelings were feeling complicated.”

“Exactly,” he says with a laugh as he rolls on top of me and kisses me with lips that taste of raspberry.

After a thorough kiss, he leans his elbow above my head. “We were supposed to talk on the plane.”

“Do you still want to?”

“That all depends,” he says, his fingers making a lazy trail down the side of my neck. “In forty years are you going to dredge it back up?”

“If I do, I won’t be mad about it anymore.” I picture myself watching Aiden forty years from now, dressed in jeans and dusty cowboy boots, his dark blond hair starting to gray at the temples, those bright green eyes still speaking to my soul as he wanders onto our front porch, our grandchildren in tow, their hands and mouths full of dark red grapes they just picked from the vineyard.

“Promise?” he says, those green eyes asking way more about what the promise implies.

I can think of a million reasons why I won’t even know Aiden forty years from now, but I can’t make myself say anything but, “I promise.”

“So let’s focus on the positive.”

“Right,” I agree, willing myself to let go and live in the now. At least for the next seventy-some hours. “It’s Thanksgiving day. We’re together in paradise, and we have a busy day.”

“A busy day? I thought we were supposed to be relaxing.”

“We will be, but there’s a lot to do here. Surf. Eat. Lie in the sun. Eat more.”

“You forgot something important,” he says as he curls his hand into my robe and draws me in closer. “This is soft.”

“What’d I forget?”

“Kissing.”

Then he kisses me until I can't think straight.

Eventually, I force myself to say, “We’re supposed to be out surfing. You need to go get your suit on.”

He reluctantly nods, but then gives me another electrifying kiss.

The kind of kiss that infuses me with so much more than love potion.

It infuses me with hope.

Aiden follows me to the storage shed so I can outfit him with a board.

“I’m going to start you out on this board. It’s a little bigger and more forgiving when you’re learning.”

He grabs the board and says, “Great. Let’s get out in the water.”

“Not so fast.” I look at the board, knowing it hasn’t been used in a while. “Run your hand over the surface here where you’re going to be laying. Do you feel anything?”

He wipes his hand across the board. “Nope. Is that good?”

“Not really. It’s way too slick. We need to wax it first.” I grab a square piece of wax, break it in half, hand it to him, and then lay our boards across a pair of sawhorses. I rub both boards down with a soft cloth to clean them and then say, “Okay, so first, you’re going to just rub it back and forth like this. Just a little. Not using much pressure. I like just a thin coat.”

He mimics what I do. “Got it. Is this how everyone does it?”

“No, it’s just how I like mine. You use different types of wax depending on the temperature of the water, but everyone has their own way to do it. Some use special tools to put the wax on, some just use the wax like we are. Some layer it differently. But the goal is the same. The wax gives you grip.”

“When I was learning how to skateboard, my dad stapled sandpaper over the top of mine.”

“Exactly, that’s the same idea. Only with wax, you can still see the cool design of your board.”

“Yours is really cool.”

“Thanks. It’s custom. Fit to my weight, height, and abilities.”

“And the design?”

I lower my head and press on my wax with a little more intensity. “Okay, so now you’re going to do this. Make Xs or crosshatching across your board. From rail to rail. Just in this area here where you will lay and stand. And then a little more right up here on the rail where you’ll place your hands while getting up.”

I see Aiden’s shadow fall across my board then his finger is under my chin, pushing it up so I have to look at him. “And the design?” he asks again.

“The Keats guy had it custom-made for my sixteenth birthday.”

“Is that why you were upset last night? It reminds you of him?”

I sigh. “No, that wasn’t it, exactly.”

He doesn’t give up. “What upset you, then? Exactly?”

I run my hand across the sticker. “This sticker is new. It matches our tattoos. The chaos.”

“Life is divine chaos,” he reads and nods his head in agreement. “That’s true. You never know what’s going to happen next. Like, with my mom’s cancer. Life was crazy, chaotic, and scary. But out of all that came something divine. She got her life back and is happier than she’s ever been.”

“She must be a really strong person. I don’t know if I could be that strong.”

“She considered fighting cancer like fighting a war with a worthy opponent, but one that was not invincible. You’re stronger than you know, Boots, and if you ever have to fight something, I’m confident you’ll be able to handle it.”

I look down and slide the wax across my board again. I’m probably putting way too much on, but I don’t care because I’m too busy praying that he’s right.

“Okay, then!” I say with fake excitement. “Let’s get you out in the sand!”

“Don’t you mean water?”

“Nope, you gotta practice getting up on the board first. Lots easier to figure that out on the sand than in the water like I did.” I set my board down in the sand and he follows suit. “So, lie down on the board like this; then, when you’re ready, pop up like this into a standing position.” I sit down on my board and give him a smirk. “Now, drop and give me twenty.”

Aiden salutes me, then drops back down onto the board. I watch as he quickly pops up to a standing position. As he counts down from twenty to one, I’m wishing I had told him to do a hundred. When he lies down on the board, he places his arms in front of him, like he’s going to do a push up. This causes his shoulder muscles to ripple, his biceps to flex, and makes me wish I could slide under him every time he drops back down onto the board. He moves fluidly and effortlessly, his coordinated body doing exactly what he expects of it.

By the time he’s counted down to one, he’s starting to sweat. Little beads of perspiration are glistening across his chest. A thin line of water is running between his tight pecs and through a set of luscious abs. I want to grab his hips in my hands and run my tongue along the deep vee that continues down, just below his low-riding shorts.

I remember the first time I saw him. Yeah, my original observation was dead on. He is so the God of all Hotties.

“How’d I do? Am I ready for the water?”

“I’m definitely ready,” I say, still thinking about my body under his . . . Oh, gosh. “I, uh, meant that I’m hot.” For you. “And ready to get out in the, uh . . .” What’s that big body of water called again? Oh! “The, uh, ocean. You know, get my surf on.”

Oh my gosh. I am so lame. Excuse me while I go bury myself in the sand.

He grabs his board and follows me and my bright red face out into the water. Peyton and Damian are already out there, although it appears they’re doing nothing but sitting on their boards, splashing each other, and playing kissyface.

“It’s about time,” Damian says. “Ready to put on a show?”

“Don’t be a show off. I wanna teach Aiden to surf.”

“Looks like you got the kiddie class, dude,” Damian says, rolling his eye at Aiden. “You ride a snowboard?”

“Absolutely. It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

I turn my head at stare at him. “Really?”

He shrugs his shoulders, like I should’ve known that, but gives my hand a reassuring caress, telling me he can handle it.

“C’mon,” Damian says, paddling out. “Live by the wave. Die by the wave.”

“I don’t want to die by the wave,” I tell him.

“There are worse ways to die,” he says pointedly.

I swallow, thinking of Vincent. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You’re totally slowing my roll with the death talk,” Aiden says in a stoner voice, laughing.

Which makes me giggle like I’m high too. High on being in the water with Aiden.

Who would have thought?

“Just follow my lead,” Damian tells Aiden as he takes the first wave and slices through the water toward shore.

“You don’t have to do that curvy stuff. Just ride straight in.”

Aiden chooses a wave, quickly stands up—his foot placement looking like it belongs in a surfing textbook—and easily rides the small wave into the shore.

I wait for a bigger one, eager to show off my skills, and feel the rush as I push up off the board . . . but then my hand slides off the edge of it, and I crash chin first into my board.

Shit that hurt, I think as the wave crashes on top of me and a riptide pulls me under. I let my body go limp trying to make myself float back to the surface so I can tread water. When I get back to the top, I see that I’m a lot further away from shore than I expected. Damian and Aiden are both wading through the waves frantically searching for me.

I try to yell that I’m okay, but end up coughing up water. So I just wave my hand and let the waves carry me back to shore.

“What the hell was that?” Damian yells, pulling me out of the water and yanking the leash off my ankle.

“I forgot to put wax on the side of the rail. I slipped. It’s no big deal.”

“I couldn’t find you,” Damian says, still yelling at me.

“I’m sorry. What do you want me to do? You’re the one who said die by the wave. Maybe you jinxed me.”

Aiden touches my face gently. “You scared us both. And you have a little cut on your chin.”

Damian is still pissed. Full of adrenaline. I can see that I scared both of them. Aiden is just handling it better.

I touch Damian’s forearm. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I’ve had way worse crashes than that. It was just a stupid thing made worse by the undertow. If you fall, be careful.”

Peyton, who had rushed into the shed, comes back with a band-aid for my chin. “Here.”

“Thanks. Do I need this?”

“You’re bleeding. I’d think so. We don’t want you attracting a shark, too.”

I laugh. “No, we don’t.”

“Here. Let me put it on you. Your hands are all wet.” She tears the sides off the band-aid and places it on my chin. I’m sure I look like an even bigger loser than I did when I crashed.

I push the band-aid in place, grab my board, add some wax to the rail, and head back out in the water. I know the best thing to do after a crash is get back out there.

The next wave I catch is different. It loves me. Big, broad crest that I’m able to carve my way up and down.

“That was amazing!” Aiden tells me, pulling me into his arms. “You’re really good. I kinda thought after you crashed that you were maybe overstating your abilities.”

“You thought I was bragging?”

He kisses my nose. “Maybe. Kinda.”

Then he kisses my lips. And my band-aid. “Life with you is never going to be boring.”

Meaning in everything.

10am

After surfing, we dry off and head in for breakfast.

I’m sitting at the breakfast bar watching Inga make her special caramel sauce.

“I’ve tried making that for Damian before, but I can never seem to get it right. The brown sugar always gets lumpy.”

“Are you mixing it in the right order?”

“Yeah, kinda. Well, honestly, no, I sorta just put all the ingredients in at once and let them melt.”

“You can’t do that. You have to mix the brown sugar and butter first before you can add the cream.”

I scowl. “Oh, yeah, I don’t do it that way.”

“That’s because you don’t like to wait, Miss Keatyn. You want everything now. You need to stop being so impatient and let life come to you. You’re young; you have a lot of life left.”

I know she’s talking about being patient in cooking but what she says touches me deeply.

“Do you think that’s true? That I will have a long life?”

She looks surprised at me. “Has Inga never read your palm?”

“Um, no. You always said I was too young.”

She grabs my hand and turns it over.

Then a curious look crosses her face. “Very odd.”

She lets go of my hand and pulls the reading glasses she wears around her neck up to her face. Then she looks more closely, studying my hand and tracing the line. Grabbing my other hand and comparing the two, she says, “It is believed that your dominant hand shows what is and your non-dominant hand shows what could be.”

“So what do mine say?”

She runs her finger next to a line. “This is your life line. See this? How it is a chain up here at the top?”

“Yes.”

That means things have been difficult for you early in your life. You lost your father, no?”

“Yes. When I was eight.”

“But this. This split. It is unusual to see in someone so young.”

“Why?”

“It means death.”

“Death?”

“Yes, you cheated death, somehow. Have you had a brush with death recently?”

“She just about drowned,” Peyton says, but Damian is looking at me with huge eyes and thinking the same thing I am. That if Vincent had actually kidnapped me, I’d be dead.

“Maybe it means I’m going to die soon,” I say softly, knowing it could happen.

“No, it is in the past.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do.”

“Uh, okay.”

“But see how this strong thin line starts after the break?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a split or changed life. It often means the death of a spouse. A divorce. Something in your life has changed. This feels almost like a rebirth.”

I think about my changed name. My changed life. I know I’m not supposed to believe in this stuff, but still.

“And after that?”

“This line is extremely chained at the beginning, so you’ll have a difficult struggle during this rebirth, but then it emerges as a strong long line.”

“What does that mean?”

“You will have a long, happy life once you get through it.”

I put my head down, pretending to be inspecting my palm, but trying to hide my reaction.

Inga has no idea the overwhelming feeling of hope she’s just given me.

“Do you want me to do the rest?”

“Yes, please,” I mutter out.

“This is your heart line,” she says, drawing her finger across it. “It’s long, meaning you will be content in love. And this line is your head line. There are Xs in the middle. Here. That means you’ll soon make a momentous decision. One that will affect the course of your life.”

“Okay,” I nod, wondering if she’s referring to the decision I’ve already made. Not going back to Eastbrooke and starting to wage war on Vincent.

“See how these lines are connected at the top?”

“Yes.”

“They mean you developed your aspirations early on in your life.” She looks up at me. “Based on all the plays you and Damian have done here in the past, I’m assuming that means you belong in the entertainment industry.”

“Uh, that’s interesting.” I don’t want to talk about that, so I try to get her to move on quickly. “What else do you see?”

“Based on the shape and length of your palm and fingers, I’d say you’re very perceptive, sympathetic, and quite creative.”

I smile. I love being those things.

“On the downside,” she says, “you can be moody, emotional, and inhibited.”

Damian and Aiden both start laughing. Damian says, “Emotional is right. I never knew a person who could have so many emotions at once.”

Inga chastises Damian. “That’s because she’s perceptive, Damian. They go hand in hand.”

I give Damian a smug smile but then squint my eyes at Aiden. “Why were you laughing?”

“Because you are the least inhibited person I know.”

Inga also gives him the eye then says, “Inhibited can have many meanings, young man. Possibly she is emotionally inhibited, as I would suspect is the case based on what I see.”

“Uh, oh. I didn’t think of it that way,” Aiden replies respectfully.

“The universe is a mysterious place and there is meaning in everything,” she says confidently. She lets go of my hand to stir the caramel sauce and then returns to the island and grins at me. “Now for the fun part.”

“What’s the fun part?”

“How many children you will have, of course. You know that your mother’s hand was very clear on that. She didn’t believe me when I told her she would have five more children after you.”

“Five?”

“Six total. One, which is you, then a large space, which meant the age gap between you and her second child would be large, then five lines close together.”

“I’d love to have another sister,” I say happily. But then reality hits, and I want to cry at the thought of not being there.

Just another reason to get my life back as fast as I can.

“So how many kids will Keatyn have?” Aiden asks with a sparkle in his eye.

“Hmmm. You will have four children very close together. See how these lines touch at the bottom?”

“Yeah,” Aiden says, studying my faint lines very intently.

“Twins.”

“That’s really cool,” Aiden says. Then, turning to Peyton, “I always wished we had a bigger family.”

“Not me,” Peyton says. “I only want one kid. And I want to spoil her rotten.”

“Rotten, is not good, Miss Peyton. Let me see your hand.”

Peyton hold her palm up.

Inga shakes her head. “You should start mentally preparing. You are destined to have three boys.”

We all laugh as Inga stops the entertainment and pulls our waffles out of the oven.

Obsession with fairy tales.

11am

After chowing down breakfast, we head back to the beach. We all play around on our surfboards and Peyton manages to get up on hers. She and Damian are constantly flirting and looking for any excuse to touch each other.

Aiden says to Damian, “I noticed you have a wakeboard in the shed.”

“Yeah,” Damian replies. “We can get the wave runner out and I’ll pull you around.”

“That’d be awesome!”

“I think that’s my cue to put my board away and spend some time tanning,” I announce.

“That’s what I want to do too,” Peyton says. “I’m really wet.”

I see Damian lick his lips. He so just thought something naughty. He grabs her around the waist and pulls her in for a kiss. “I’ll miss you,” he says in a lovesick way.

Oh, he’s got it bad.

Peyton giggles uncontrollably. In fact, she’s still giggling when we lie on two of the cushioned chaises that line a small portion of the beach.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you giggle so much.”

She giggles again. “I’m, like, giddy and having so much fun. Damian is sweet.” She stops and studies me. “Is he sweet? Please say he’s sweet.”

“Yeah, he’s super sweet.”

“It's silly isn't it? He’s practically a rock star. Travels all over. I’m still in school. He’s younger than me. And probably into groupies.”

“He looks really good in a suit,” I say with a smirk.

“He has pretty much everything on my list and the things he doesn't have I don't care about anymore. I'm falling way too fast. Hell, who am I kidding? I’m not falling, I’ve fallen. I need to stop it. Stuff like this only happens in the movies. But he’s so hot. But in a different way. Like his face is beautiful but it’s more classic. Have you ever noticed how perfectly proportioned it is?”

“Uh, I don’t think so.”

“He’s just as hot as Cam, only I don’t think he realizes how hot he is. Like Cam works it. Uses his looks.”

“Damian uses his words,” I say softly. “His music. His voice, like when he whispers or sings you to sleep, it’s completely dreamy.”

“Great. So everyone that he whispers to falls in love with him?”

“I think anyone that hears him sing falls a little in love with him. With both his voice and his passion. He’s also really mature. He never acted like a kid even when we were kids. He’s always been, like, an old soul or something. He doesn’t make the kind of mistakes I always seem to make.”

“So he is perfect.” She sighs sadly. “And he’d probably hate me if he knew all the mistakes I’ve made.”

I know that I should tell her she’s right. I know I should stop this relationship before it catches flight, but I can’t do it. I can’t crush this. I mean, Damian is the one who suggested Eastbrooke that night. Maybe fate sent me there for him. So that he could meet his dream girl. And if I’m not going back anyway . . .

“Peyton, what was your plan when you met Mr. Dreamy?”

“What do you mean?”

“What was your plan? After your eyes met and you determined he was the one, then what?”

She rolls her eyes. “We lived happily ever after, of course.”

“What else?”

“You mean in between that? I guess I always imagined being courted in that old fashioned way. Wooed. Flowers. Romantic dates. Wondering when I’d get that next kiss.”

“Did you ever think you’d sit around trying to come up with excuses why you shouldn't be with him?”

“Of course not.” She smirks. “Oh, I see what you're doing there. You're right. I should enjoy it. Speaking of that, I’m gonna run in the house real quick. And you should watch my brother. I think he’s showing off for you.”

I glance out at the ocean and see Aiden doing a flip on the wakeboard.

He tries another one, crashes, then gets pulled back up. He jumps the waves, getting a ton of air, and doing tricks. Turning around backwards, grabbing his board as he jumps, kicking his board up behind his butt, and doing more flips.

After showing off for a long time, he strides out of the water, plops his wet, glistening body on top of me, and gives me a steamy kiss.

“What's that's for?”

“I want you to know how I feel. And right now, I feel exhilarated.”

“Showing off exhilarates you?”

He grins. “Jumping the wakes and getting all that air is kinda a rush.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Speak French.”

“Besides that?”

“I can’t read your mind. You need to start telling me what you’re thinking. Even if you think I can’t handle it.”

“I think you could handle anything,” I say dreamily.

Although the feel of his hard, wet body on top of mine makes me want to pretend to be an evil queen and banish him to my turret room.

Forever.

“So tell me what you’re thinking right now,” he says, killing my daydream of him tied to the bed.

“I don’t think you want to know what I’m thinking.”

“But I do.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. What I’m thinking is that I hate you.”

He kisses my neck, his mouth feeling cool from the ocean. “I’m lying on top of you, practically attacking you, and that’s what you’re thinking?”

“Yeah. Do you know how many freaking times it took me before I could ride into shore? I don’t think I ever would’ve gotten it right if B hadn’t come out and helped me,” I stupidly blurt out.

“Who’s B?”

“Oh. Um, he’s the Keats guy. My stepdad gave me my first board, a few pointers, and then told me the best way to learn was just go out and do it. He was wrong, by the way. It’s much easier to learn what to do on shore first. Anyway, that’s how B became my first big crush.”

“And you’re first big love.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Sometimes I think I do.”

“And other times?” he says, his eyes holding mine.

“I think I’m falling for someone else,” I say breathlessly.

Ohmigawd! I can’t believe I just said that.

Why did I say that?

Why would I do that to him?

Give him hope just to crush him in a few days.

God, I suck.

“So is there anything you've ever wanted do that you haven't been able to do?” I ask, steering the conversation back to his athletic abilities.

He rolls over, positioning himself next to me, and looks at me with fiery eyes.

“There are a lot of things I want to do that I haven’t done yet.”

“Like what?” I reply, praying it’s something like skydiving or mountain climbing.

“I’ve been dreaming of slowly undressing you.”

I stop breathing for a second as my heart jumps into my throat. “Is that something you’d like to do soon?”

He rolls me to face him, while gliding his hand downward over my hip and thigh. Then he parts my legs with his knee, putting it in the spot he does when we dance, intertwining our bodies. Then he grabs my ass and guides it even closer, my crotch now firmly pushing on his thigh.

“Yes, very soon. And I want to be just like this,” he says, placing his mouth on my neck. “Only naked.”

I grab the hair at the back of his head and push his face toward me so I can kiss him.

When his tongue takes possession of my mouth, I groan, my body purposefully pressing into his.

Damian yells from the water, “Dude, it’s my turn on the wakeboard. Come drive for me.”

Aiden ignores him, choosing instead to slide his tongue across my lips.

Then he says, “I suppose I better go.”

I’m too breathless from the kiss to even reply. I just sort of nod.

God, he is hot.

And I don’t just mean the way he looks.

It’s that strong, almost alpha male, possessiveness that I feel when he’s determined. An electrical charge backed by godly powers.

Like he’s a human version of Poseidon’s triton.

Aiden gets up and yells at Damian. “I’m gonna grab some water. I’ll be right back.”

“Grab me one too,” Damian says.

As Aiden runs up to the pool bar, Damian pulls the wave runner up into the sand, hops off it, and then plops down next to me.

“Jeez, when I said you should have some fun, I didn't mean you should accost the poor boy on the beach.”

“Jealous?”

“Totally. Peyton has the best ass. I want to own it. Explore it's surrounding areas.”

I laugh. “You need to stay out of that part of town.” He laughs, although I’m pretty sure he’s completely serious, so I say, “Damian, if you really like her, shouldn't you want to take it slow?”

“I am taking it slow because what I really want to do is wave one of your magic wands, make you disappear, and throw her across a chaise and fuck her until she can’t move.”

“Damian!”

“Come on, don't pretend like you don't want Aiden to do that to you. You two have so much chemistry if you don't do it pretty soon you may combust and kill us all.”

That makes me laugh. “Maybe, but if she's really your future wife, you should wait a little. I mean, what would you tell your kids?”

“I’d tell them Mom’s ass looked so good in her bikini I couldn't help myself. My sons will understand.”

“And your daughters?”

“We’re not having daughters if Inga’s palm reading isn’t total bullshit. But if we did, I’d tell them the love at first sight story. Perpetuate the future generation’s obsession with fairy tales.” He grins at me. “Maybe I’d even tell them she was a mermaid.”

I smack him. “Very funny.”

“Do you think your mom and Tommy waited?”

“Ha. No. I’m pretty sure they did it on their first date. But, then, if a guy as hot as Tommy took me and my daughter on a private jet to a Russian ballet, I wouldn’t have waited either.”

“You and Aiden remind me of them.”

“What did you mean?”

“When you aren’t obsessing about your lack of a future and let yourself have fun, you just glow. Hell, you both glow.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah, Keats, I like him. But just as a forewarning, don’t plan on us hanging out tonight. I’m taking Peyton on our first date.”

“Where are you going?”

“We’re gonna take the jeep, drive up the mountain, and look for shooting stars.”

“In the words of your father, So you’re taking her parking?”

He laughs out loud. “Oh my gosh. I about died when he said that to us in front of everyone. I’m sure I looked completely guilty.”

“We both did. The funny thing is that never once crossed my mind.”

“That’s because you were hell bent on acting out some script you were writing. Where they laid on top of a mountain, held hands, and made wishes on shooting stars.”

“That seems like a long time ago.”

“Things were just simpler then.”

“Yeah, they were,” I say quietly, biting my lower lip.

“No. No. No. Don’t start with the pout.”

Aiden comes back, tosses Damian a bottle of water, and says to me, “Why are you pouting?”

“Because I’m taking your sister out tonight. She’s jealous.”

“Jealous?” Aiden says, looking a little confused.

“She loves looking at the stars.”

“I’m sure we can find some stars of our own,” Aiden says, kissing my cheek before running back out into the water with Damian.

Peyton comes wandering back out to our chaises with Sven in tow. She’s carrying a laptop and Sven has two of his wickedly strong hurricane drinks on a tray. He sets them on a side table next to us and then heads back into the house.

“These drinks are really strong,” I tell her.

“Perfect. I need to relax. I can’t relax around him. It’s like I’m strung out, waiting for the next hit. The next kiss.”

“If you break into song about how his love is your drug, I may have to smack you.”

She laughs, sipping and watching Damian on the wakeboard. “Wow, he’s good on that thing. Almost as good as Aiden. I wouldn’t think a guy that plays guitar would be so athletic.”

“Damian is like Aiden. There isn’t anything he can’t do if he puts his mind to it.” I laugh. “It pissed me off when we were younger. I was always trying to keep up with him. So what’s the computer for?”

“Tell me that you have internet here and that you won’t laugh at what I’m about to do.”

“We have internet. The password is crabbypatties. And I’ll try not to laugh.”

She types on the laptop. “I’m about to match our horoscopes, so I need to know his birthday.”

I laugh, not because I think it’s funny but because I did the exact same thing when I was crushing on B. Horoscope matches. Magic Eight ball questions. Fortune cookies. Numerology. Anything to give me hope that we might be together someday.

“You’re laughing,” she says, scrunching up her nose at me.

“Only because I’ve done the same thing when obsessed with a boy.”

“Okay,” she says clicking away. “I’m a Virgo and he’s a, what?”

“An Aquarius. Smart. Creative. A little bit temperamental.”

“Hmm,” she says. “This says that when Virgo and Aquarius team up they can either bring out the best or worst of each other. It seems I have a rigid and theoretical approach to life.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I’m big on theory. And list making. And I need a certain order in my life to function.”

I watch Damian out on the wakeboard, cutting as hard as he can across the wake and then racing up the side of the wave runner, trying to get ahead of Aiden. He’s going balls out. Not once thinking about anything other than the rush. “Damian isn’t that way at all. He’s the anti-list maker.”

“This says that Aquarians are poetic.” She pauses. “I guess that would fit since songs are basically poetry. Oh, here. It says that we can thrive on our differences and grow together as we learn about each other. That’s romantic, right?”

“Yes, it’s romantic. What else does it say?”

“It says he’s passionate, modern, hates routine, and seeks spiritual enlightenment, but that he can be opinionated and stubborn.”

“Wow. That’s pretty much on target, except it makes it sound like he’s kind of a slacker. And he’s not. He’s highly motivated.”

“Oh, my gosh. Listen to the end. The most positive aspect of their union is that their combined ambition can drive them to do miraculous things together. Their relationship is enlightening and full of pleasure.”

“I think the pleasure is referring to the mental kind,” I say as I watch Peyton lick her lips.

“He’s got amazing arms, don’t you think?” she asks dreamily.

I look at his biceps flexing to hold the rope. “Yeah, he’s got great arms. All that guitar playing, I suppose. And he loves to golf.”

“Really?” she says, her eyes getting big. “Me too. Well, I like to drive the beer cart.” She stops staring dreamily at him and says, “Okay, let’s match you and Aiden.”

“Oh, no. That’s okay. I don’t even know his sign.”

“Luckily, I do. Did you know on his birthday he’ll be 18? And that I’m already 19?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“We don’t really tell people.”

“Why? Were you held back?”

“In a way. We missed a year of school when my mom got cancer. It was the worst year of my life for lots of reasons. I was scared she’d die. Pissed I had to leave my friends and move to California. Although the worst part was watching her lose her hair. She had the most beautiful hair. Anyway, we’re both a year behind and part of what made me put Go to boarding school on my bucket list. I couldn’t handle it like Aiden could.”

I look at Aiden driving the wave runner, laughing, and having a great time. He now appears to be on a mission to make Damian crash. He’s driving in tight circles and trying to whip him around like you would to get someone off an innertube.

“He didn’t tell me.”

“I know. He doesn’t like to talk about it either. Alright, so what’s your sign?”

“I’m a Leo.”

“L-e-o,” she says as she types. “And he’s a Sag-it-tar-ius.”

“He is?” I say in shock. I seriously never would have guessed that. And I know every single Sagittarius quality by heart, because I’ve studied B’s horoscope more than I have my own.

“Oh, wow. Listen to this! When you get together the result is usually fireworks. You are both dynamic and like to enjoy life to the fullest. As a couple, you are lots of fun to be around. And you encourage each other. And even though the Sagittarius’ philosophical ways can compete with Leo’s love of all things material and bigger than life, they can still get along. They admire and respect each other and together they radiate energy.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to keep reading,” I say. “I get it. We’re a good match.”

“But there’s so much more,” she says excitedly. “It says the Sagittarius’ sign is an archer, meaning he goes slowly and likes to take his time surveying his target. Oh, and he’s a flirt. It says you might be bothered by that though because you like to be admired. It also says it will be a relationship full of passion and heat. So you’re a good match horoscopically.”

“Is that a word?”

“Ha. I have no idea. But you know what I mean. It also says here that Leo’s sometimes pout to get their way. Do you do that?”

“Of course not,” I say, shaking my head.

“She’s lying,” Damian says, suddenly standing in front of me. “What are you two doing?”

“Nothing!” Peyton says, her eyes big as she slams the laptop shut. “Just girl talk.”

“Did you girls realize it’s 2:30 already and almost time for Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Uh, no,” Peyton says. “What time is dinner?”

“It’s at three. And we can’t be late.”

“Oh, I better go get ready. What are you wearing, Keatyn?”

I grab her arm. “Come with me. I have the perfect dress for you to wear.”

“Meet us in the great room, boys,” I say with a wave to Damian and Aiden.

I pretend to be just taking her up to get a dress, but internally I am freaking out.

I assumed because B and I were so perfectly matched it meant he was my destiny. I mean, we fell in love at first sight, and we were perfectly cosmically matched. We were made for each other.

But so is Aiden?

I drag Peyton up to my room trying to focus on clothing.

I take her into my closet and pull out the gorgeous red slip dress I bought back when my goal was to seduce Aiden. “Here, wear this.”

I hand her a strapless bra and the dress.

When she puts it on, she goes, “Wow. Just the way this dress glides over my skin feels sexy.”

“You look amazing, but the bra looks bad. You may have to take it off.”

“I can’t go braless.”

“Just try it.” She undoes the bra and pulls it out from underneath the dress. “Now, look.”

“I feel so sexy. Like, I’ve never really wanted to be sexy before. More like I just wanted to look hot, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Did you bring some strappy sandals?”

“I have a pair of silver heels.”

“Perfect, but just carry them. Set them on the floor next to you. You’ll totally look casual but, yet, amazing.”

“Okay, I’m going to go put on a little makeup. I’ll meet you in the great room.”

She stops, gets tears in her eyes, and looks at me. Then she rushes back to me and gives me a tight hug. “Thank you for bringing me here and for the dress. I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

“Just have fun tonight. He’s taking you somewhere special.”

“That’s what he said, but he won’t tell me where. Seriously, I feel like I’ve walked into a fairytale. Hell, I’m even getting dressed in a flipping turret.”

“Go finish getting ready, so you’ll look perfect,” I say, escorting her to the door.

Once I close it, I sit on my bed and stare at the computer she left behind.

Yes. I’m a glutton for punishment.

But I can’t stop myself.

I open it and type in our match on a different website hoping to get a different result.

And I do.

But this one is worse.

As a lover, the Sagittarius man likes to explore his lover’s mind, body, and soul.

I shut the computer and focus on getting ready.

I quickly shower off then throw on a soft crepe halter dress with an ombre wash that variegates from a pale pink at the neck to a deep orange at the hem. I pair it with white studded double strapped platform wedges.

My mind suddenly flashes to Aiden slowly taking this dress off me.

I close my eyes and indulge my mind for a few seconds before focusing on looking amazing.

I braided my hair while it was wet and let it dry in the sun, so I unbraid it, gently run my fingers through the soft waves and then add some balm to make it shine.

I stand back and study myself in the mirror. My face is tan and glowing, so I decide to skip foundation and blush and just add some sparkly pink eye shadow, a thin swoop of black liner, a bunch of mascara, and a peachy lipgloss.

I check the time and, seeing that I have a few minutes to spare, decide to check my phone.

There are texts from all of the Johnson boys, Maggie & Logan, Annie, and Katie, all wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving. But it’s Dallas’ text that cracks me up.

Dallas: Would it be in bad taste if I offered to share my wishbone with the governor’s hot 16-year-old daughter?

Me: You can always make me laugh. I love that about you. Happy Thanksgiving. Let me know if she decides to, uh, make a wish.

It’s noon in Vancouver, so I decide to call my family. I remember last Thanksgiving. The girls running around in little pilgrim headbands. Gracie wanting Tommy to buy her a pet turkey.

The phone is answered with, “Bonjour.”

“Well, bonjour to you. Is this Avery?”

“Kiki?!”

“Hi, sweetie. I just called to tell you happy Thanksgiving. Are you going to eat lots of turkey and stuffing today?”

She lets out a big sigh. “We were supposed to.”

“What happened?”

“Bad Kiki jumped up on the kitchen island and ate the turkey while we were setting the table.”

“Oh, no! I bet Daddy was mad.”

“He said merde. That’s a bad word.”

“Yes, it is. Why are you speaking French today?”

“I’m practicing. We’re moving to France!”

I let out a huge sigh of relief, knowing that Mom would never tell the girls unless it was a sure thing.

“That’s amazing! You’ll love it there.”

“Mommy says we’ll get to go to the store, and to the beach, and to the park there! We don’t get to here.”

“That will be so much fun. Can I talk to your sisters?”

“Sure! I’ll go get them.”

I hear her running through the house, her little bare feet padding across the hardwood floors. I swear, this time next year, I’ll be with them. No matter what.

I hear a chorus of, “Kiki!!” and “Happy Turkey Day, Kiki!”

Then, “Gracie, don’t grab the phone out of my hands! It’s rude!”

Then Gracie’s sweet little voice, “I miss my Good Kiki.”

“I miss you too, Gracie. I heard the puppy was naughty and ate your turkey.”

Gracie laughs. “Daddy was chasing after Bad Kiki and she had bones in her mouth. I laugh and laugh at Daddy and Kiki.”

“It bet it was funny. How’s Mommy?”

“She’s sick.”

“Sick?”

“Yes, she in bed wiff the flu.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“She sleeping. Daddy say, Girls, be quiet. But Daddy yelled at Kiki.”

“Where’s Kiki now?”

“Under Gracie’s bed. She know it safe cuz Gracie love her Bad Kiki. Daddy say Kiki might not go to France and Gracie cry and tell Daddy, Bad Kiki no go, Gracie no go.”

I can’t help but laugh. I so wish I was there, because even though the house is always filled with chaos, it’s like the perfect chaos. I hope Inga was right. I pray I live a long life and have a houseful of my own kids someday.

“Keatyn?” a deep voice asks.

“Hey, Tommy. Happy Thanksgiving. The girls said they’re moving to France.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too, baby. Tell me you’re with some friends and not all alone.”

“I’m with some friends, Tommy.”

He lets out a sigh. “Good. One less thing to worry about.”

“Is Mom okay?”

“Oh, yeah, just the flu. Everyone on set has been sick.”

“Okay, good. I heard the dog ate the turkey.”

“Damn dog. She’s lucky she’s so cute and Gracie loves her so much.”

“I gotta go eat dinner, but tell Mom I love and miss her. And tell her next year things will be different.”

“I hope you’re right,” he says, and then we say goodbye.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I have pre-traumatic death syndrome or something. Every time I think of my future, I picture me dead.

Which makes me feel guilty, because I know Cooper’s Thanksgiving has to be rougher than mine.

Me: I was thinking of you today. I know it's gotta be tough.

Cooper: I was thinking of you today too.

Me: Don’t worry about me.

Cooper: Garrett says you’re not going back to school.

Me: I was going to discuss my plan with you after the holiday.

Cooper: Tell me now.

Me: Um, it’s still in the planning stages, that’s why I want to talk to you.

Cooper: Yet it sounds like you’ve made up your mind.

Me: I have about school. I just haven’t decided for sure where I’m going to live.

Cooper: Don’t take off on your own.

Me: I wasn’t planning to. I was going to ask you to come with me.

Cooper: See, you’re smarter than Garrett thinks.

Me: He thinks I’m going to do something stupid.

Cooper: Are you?

Me: I considered walking into Vincent’s office and telling him I want to audition for his movie.

Cooper: Tell me you scrapped that plan.

Me: Not quite yet. I wanted to get your thoughts. He’s like a bully, Cooper. Maybe I just need to stand up to him.

Cooper: There is a big difference between a bully and a sociopath. Do some research.

Me: Does that mean if I don’t go back to school, you’ll still help me?

Cooper: Of course.

Me: That makes me cry, Cooper. Thank you. I just want to be proactive instead of sitting around waiting for him to find me.

Cooper: Go eat some turkey. I heard your dinner smells amazing.

Me: Have you been keeping tabs on me?

Cooper: Absolutely.

Love song about her lips.

3:15pm

Damian and I are the first ones in the great room.

“This is crazy,” Damian says, pacing in front of me, holding a glass of wine. “I'm insanely crazy about her. I'm currently writing the world’s longest love song about her lips. She doesn’t have a boyfriend or anything does she?”

“I don't think she'd be kissing you if she did.”

“Trust me. That doesn’t stop a lot of girls.”

I touch his forearm and get him to look at me. “Damian, she felt it too.”

His eyes widen in shock.

“Seriously? Do you think that really happens?” He sets his wineglass down without taking a sip and starts pacing again. “Of course, it happens. How many times have we heard the story of Ab—” He stops in the middle of his sentence, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, when Aiden walks in the room. “Um, the story of Aberly and, uh, Fritz.”

“Who's Aberly and Fritz?” Aiden asks.

“They're my dad's friends,” Damian says, picking his goblet up and taking a swig before continuing. “I need something stronger than this. You like scotch, Aiden?”

“My dad is trying to teach me to appreciate it,” Aiden replies. “So tell us their story.”

As Damian plunks ice into two highball glasses and pours a 25-year old scotch over them, he says, “They come here sometimes, and they like to tell the story of how they met. Of how it was an instant, love at first sight thing. They've been together ever since.”

I smile thinking about Tommy and my mom. “Yeah, they're pretty amazing. I hope you can meet them someday.”

Because I do.

I think Tommy would love Aiden, and my mom would be as mesmerized by him and his wooing as I am. I think about Logan and his big gesture. About Aiden and the dirt. B and his sandycastles. My mom is into big gestures, and Tommy never does anything small. He whisked her away to St. Petersburg on their/our first date. And a few months later, he surprised both of us by remembering the day my dad died, by taking us to his grave and then later to the Santa Monica Pier. He’s never been threatened by our past, I think, because he’s confident he’ll be in our future.

Damian hands Aiden his drink as Peyton walks into the room.

She looks gorgeous.

Damian is staring at her, mesmerized. When she smiles the blazing love god smile, I see the same dreamy look in Damian’s eyes that I suspect is in my own when I look at Aiden.

Speaking of Aiden. He looks gorgeous too. His hair is slicked back, making it look darker. The scruff on his face is looking sexy as hell over his tanned face. He’s wearing a Rag & Bone pale blue gauze long-sleeved shirt, a pair of James Perse linen pants, and Prada criss-cross sandals.

Damian holds out his elbow to Peyton, whispers something in her ear that makes her blush, and then escorts her into the dining room.

Dinner smells fabulous, but looking at Aiden makes me hungry for only one thing.

Him.

Aiden grabs my hand, gives me a kiss, and leads me into the dining room.

We invite Inga and Sven to join us for dinner, but as is typical, they refuse. However, it’s mostly because they’re leaving early tonight to go to their daughter’s home for a family birthday celebration.

As Sven pours us each a cool glass of Pinot Grigio to compliment the turkey, he says, “Mr. Damian, I assume you will keep with tradition and do your father’s usual toast?”

Damian looks at me and smiles. “Keats, I think you should do it.”

“Um, okay.” I stand up, smooth down the front of my dress, and raise my glass into the air. “It’s times like these that we stop to reflect on our lives and the things we have to be thankful for. The great Thornton Wilder wrote, ‘We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.’ In other words, look at the friends gathered around you, at the food sitting before you, and the beauty that is around you. Happy Thanksgiving!”

We clink glasses and everyone says, Happy Thanksgiving.

“That’s a beautiful quote,” Peyton says. “What’s it from?”

“It’s from the play, The Woman of Andros,” I tell her. “It’s about what’s precious in life and how harsh the world can be. Wilder revisited that theme again in Our Town, when Emily dies and asks if anyone ever realizes what they have in life, while they are living it.”

Aiden and Peyton both look teary-eyed. I know they’re thinking about their mom and how even though she is with them, she’s not with them. In a way, cancer was sort of their Vincent, bringing chaos into their normal lives. “I’m very thankful to be here,” Peyton says. “Thanks so much for having us.”

“So, do you both like football?” I ask.

“Well, my parents are both originally from Georgia, but my mom went to college at Alabama and Dad went to Ole Miss. They’re big SEC rivals, so football is a dangerous subject at our house,” Aiden says with a grin. “It’s always funny when the two teams play each other.”

“How did they meet?” Damian asks.

“Dad interviewed Mom for a job. Their running joke is that he told her no for the job, but asked if she would interview to be his girlfriend.”

“What’d she say?”

“That she’d rather have the job,” Peyton says with an easy laugh.

“The Cowboys always play on Thanksgiving day. Do you like them?” I ask. “My grandpa lives in Texas and is a huge Cowboys fan.”

“I just like stuffing myself with turkey and then relaxing on the couch and watching any game,” Aiden says. “Although, here, I think I’d rather hang out on the beach.”

“You two enjoy,” Damian says, before stuffing his mouth with mashed potatoes. “I’m going to take Peyton into town after dinner.”

“Are you going shopping?” I ask, my ears perking up.

“Just some exploring and then we have our date,” Damian says very vaguely.

I get the distinct impression that I’m not invited.

“Exploring, where?” Aiden asks.

“Just into town.”

“Somewhere safe?”

“Um, yeah, of course.”

Aiden nods and says, “Okay.”

Very quickly, we’re stuffed, and Aiden and Damian are both moaning that they couldn’t possibly eat another bite.

Until Inga offers them a piece of pecan pie and they both are like, Oh, maybe just a little slice.

Peyton and I help clear the table, but Inga shoos us out of her kitchen.

Damian grabs Peyton’s hand. “Don’t wait up,” he tells me with a big grin on his face.

Aiden smiles at me, rubs his tight stomach, and pulls me into a hug. “Alone at last.”

“Do you want to go down to the little beach cabana? It’s shaded and has a comfortable bed that’s great for naps.”

“That sounds perfect,” he replies.

We walk hand in hand to the beach and snuggle up on the raised platform bed filled with brightly colored pillows. I lean on Aiden’s chest and stare out at the water in a happy food coma.

Your lips on mine.

8:45pm

“Hey, Boots,” Aiden says, waking me up.

“Oh, wow. Did you fall asleep too?”

“Absolutely.”

I snuggle into his arms, my ear on his chest, hearing the beat of the heart I'm going to break along with my own in just two days.

“We were up early.”

“And we played hard,” he says with a grin.

“What time is it?”

He glances at his watch. “Almost nine.”

“Oh my gosh, we slept forever.”

“And believe it or not, I’m hungry again.”

“Let’s get a snack and take it back to my room.”

He touches the strings of my halter. “I was serious when I said I wanted to undress you.”

I hold my breath as he touches my shoulder. There’s a huge part of me that wants to skip the snack but, yet, I want to take it slow. Enjoy the whole night. The whole experience. Savor it like it’s my last meal.

We head to the kitchen to make turkey sandwiches and grab one of the fruit and cheese trays that Inga always leaves for late night snacking.

“Do you want some wine?” he asks.

“Sure, pick something out.”

We walk to the turret, into my room, and then set everything up on the desk.

I throw open the windows, so we can hear the sounds of the ocean, and light the candles.

“I really liked your toast today,” Aiden says.

“Thanks, I didn’t make it up or anything but I think it’s a good thing to hear on Thanksgiving. It helps put your life in perspective. I think it’s easy to get so caught up in the everyday stuff that we forget to look at what’s really important.”

“What’s really important to you?”

“Same as everyone, I guess. Health, family, love.”

“I agree. Although I might add a few things to that list.”

“Like what?”

“The sound of the ocean, watching the sun set, a good glass of wine, and your lips on mine.”

“The simple things in life are the best.”

“As long at it includes a castle on the beach, Little Mermaid?”

“I don’t really need a castle, Aiden, but I do need the ocean every so often. The waves calm me and make me feel peaceful—centered, almost.”

“You seem like that in your loft too.”

“I do,” I say with regret, knowing I won't ever be going back there. That I'll be hiring people to pack up everything and put it in storage. Except for two things. The book of Keats poetry, which has Aiden’s four-leaf clover pressed in it, and the shoes I wore to my birthday party. Those will be sent to wherever I am. “Really, I'm comfortable lots of places. I love the vibrancy of cities like New York and Paris just as much as the ease of a house on the beach or in the country. I don't really know where I want to live.”

Or even if I'll live.

“What's that?” Aiden asks, holding up his hand and walking over to the window.

“What's what?” I ask, following him.

“Shhh.”

I listen quietly and then hear it. Giggling.

“Where's it coming from?” I whisper.

Aiden nods in the direction of the beach.

I peer out into the moonlight and see Peyton and Damian stripping off their clothes and running into the ocean.

“Are they skinny-dipping?” Aiden asks, looking slightly horrified.

“Oh, no. I’m sure they have swimsuits on. Damian likes to swim in the moonlight,” I lie.

“I think I should go down there and check on her.”

“Aiden, you don’t need to check on her. She’s laughing and having fun.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“You got to know Damian today. Do you like him?”

“Yeah, I like him. But that doesn’t mean I want him getting naked with my sister.”

I give him a kiss and say, “Let’s go back inside.”

Aiden studies my face. “You know, you’ve surprised me on this trip.”

“How so?”

“Because we haven’t done anything other than kiss.”

“We were tired last night.”

“Are we tired tonight?”

“No, we just took a nap.”

He studies my bare shoulders and then runs his hands across them. “You’re right,” he says, his eyes dark and sexy. “We should go back inside.”

He pulls me through the doorway, closes the curtains, and then comes to stand directly in front of me.

I bite the edge of my lip, knowing this is it.

He wants to undress me.

I stand here, feeling like I’m already naked.

He wraps his hand around my neck and unties the halter, causing the front of my dress to fall down and reveal my strapless bra. He bends slightly, his lips pressing against my shoulder, slowly across my collarbone, and then along the edges of my bra.

“I’ve had dreams about doing this. Just undressing you.”

I swallow hard and my stomach flips as his hands slide down my sides, slowly working the dress over my hips, down my legs, and into a puddle on the floor. He bends down, stopping to trail his tongue across the top of my thong, then runs his hands slowly down the sides of my thighs, his lips following them.

He stops to take my dress from around my ankles and lay it on the bench at the bottom of the bed.

But then he returns to my legs, kissing my knees, my ankles, and removing my shoes.

His lips work their way back up to my mouth and, as he kisses me, I start to unbutton his soft shirt.

One button.

Two buttons.

Three buttons.

Four.

Part of me wants to pop the buttons off his shirt, strip off the rest of his clothes and go for it, but I also don’t want to miss this.

This slow burn.

My lips find their way to his chest as I finish unbuttoning his shirt and slowly spread it open, letting it reveal his muscular chest and beautifully sculpted shoulders.

It’s magical. Godlike.

Until his shirt gets stuck on his hand.

I start laughing, because it won’t come off no matter how hard I tug on it.

He pulls the sleeve back on, showing me that his watch is in the way.

I nod in understanding, unbutton his sleeve, and then pull it off him.

Then I put the shirt on me.

“Something is wrong with this picture here,” he teases, gliding his finger down my stomach. “My clothes are coming off and you’re putting them back on.”

“This shirt is soft. I might steal it and wear it to bed.” I sorta hug myself and run my hands down the sleeves.

He growls a little. “Are you going to take off my pants?”

My face instantly flushes—hell, my whole body instantly flushes.

I nod and move my hands to his belt while he pulls the shirt off my shoulder and kisses down my chest.

They are slow, soft, controlled kisses.

As he’s doing that, I unbuckle his belt.

Then I unzip his pants and let them glide down his legs.

“Sliders, huh?”

“Yeah, they’re comfortable.”

“And way hotter than boxers,” I state. Because those things are tight. As in, I can see the outline of every bulge underneath, including the one I’ve been dying to see.

But I remind myself that the sliders must stay on.

Do not take off the sliders.

Do not pull off the sliders.

He quickly kicks his pants off, and then in one fluid motion picks me up and lays me on the bed.

“I have a present for you,” I tell him, having no idea why I chose this moment to bring it up. Especially when I should be focusing on what I can feel under those sliders.

He props his head up, his green eyes sparkling in the candlelight and possibly looking the sexiest I’ve ever seen. “Really?”

“I was going to give it to you when you passed French this semester.”

“But you’re so confident that I’m going to pass that you’re giving it to me now?”

Oh, Lord.

No, I don’t want to give it to you now.

I want you to give it to me.

Unleash that freaking Titan.

Now.

“So, where is it?” he asks.

“Oh, um, what?”

“The present. Where is it?”

“Oh, I’ll go get it,” I say, clearing dirty thoughts from my head, hopping off the bed, and quickly running to the closet.

I stare at the wrapped Tiffany’s box sitting on the shelf, hating myself for lying to him. I’m giving it to him now because I know I won’t be there at the end of the semester.

I carry the box back to the bed and hand it to him. He leans back against the headboard and unties the white ribbon.

God, does he look sexy lying there in nothing but his underwear or what?

He smiles as he pulls out the silver keychain I bought him. It has a silver four-leaf clover charm set in a twisted circle. One side is engraved with the word sort and the other with the word luck.

“A four-leaf clover,” he says with a big grin.

“Both sides of it are engraved.”

He squints in the dim light, then holds the keychain in front of the hurricane lamp and reads, “Sort. As in the French word for fate?”

“Yeah. Now look at the other side.”

He flips it over. “Luck. Hmmm. Luck or fate. Which one are we?”

“I don’t know. But I do know I’m lucky to have met you.” Tears shimmer in my eyes as he touches my face.

“I think we’re both lucky.”

“Remember how I told you I called you the God of all Hotties?”

He grins. “Yeah.”

“That’s kind of how I treated you. Like a god. Like you were perfect. But after what happened with Chelsea, seeing you with black eyes, it made you more real. And it showed me how much I care about you.” I pause then say softly, “And that scared me.”

“Why were you scared?”

“Because when she told me . . . ” I clutch my chest, because just the thought of what she said being true still makes my heart ache.

“It hurt,” Aiden says, finishing my sentence.

“Yeah.”

He puts his fingers together, making half of our four-leaf clover. I hold my fingers together in the same way and touch his, forming the rest of it.

The second our fingers touch, it’s like magic. A crack of thunder roars and lightning shoots across the sky as a storm moves in from the distance.

Aiden stares at me for a beat then takes action, his lips finding my neck as he quickly unbuttons the single button on his shirt and undoes my bra. He tosses them both on the bed then leans in to kiss me.

Our naked chests touch.

You sometimes hear how a teeny spark can start a whole forest fire. Our chests touching is my spark, and now I’m burning out of control.

His fingers move across my nipple, causing it to immediately harden. Then he flicks it with his tongue and pulls it into his mouth with his teeth, sending lightning bolts of sensations through my body.

My legs are spread wide, his hips between them. He grips my hips tightly as he kisses his way down my stomach. He kisses around the edges of my lace panties, but they aren't gentle kisses.

They’re rough, harsh, ragged. And with every kiss, he pulls my hips up in a thrusting motion to meet his mouth.

I want to do something to him, but my body is consumed with what he's doing to me.

Just the anticipation of what he might do next almost sends me over the edge.

His mouth moves down farther, his tongue dancing from my thighs to my toes, causing my blood to pulse through my veins and my heart to beat wildly in one big blur of desire.

He pulls my hips toward his mouth, layering on kisses and sucking at the tender spots between my thighs. I grab ahold of his hair as I prepare for that magical tongue to move my panties aside and delve deeper.

His tongue explores the edges of the lace only, darting underneath but not staying for long.

He suddenly changes his position quickly and lies on his side next to me.

He kisses me again, his tongue thrusting into my mouth in a forceful way, almost like it’s mad at me.

I reply with equal force. Coming to sit almost upright when I feel his fingers pushing aside the lace, then touching me between the soft folds.

“God, you're wet,” he says, his fingers rubbing the outside of me. The friction alone is almost driving me mad.

“Oh,” I moan.

But then his finger dives inside me.

Then quickly out.

And I’m lost to him.

One single finger.

One tongue.

Completely controlling my body.

Controlling my heart.

And my mind.

I arch my back. “Mhmmmm. Ohmigawd, Aiden, that feels so good.”

He sucks the skin at the base of my neck while the throbbing reaches deep inside my body to places he can't touch.

After moaning an embarrassing amount, I kiss him deeply, then bravely and quickly move my hand inside his sliders and grasp the Titan.

Which, I discover, is a very appropriate name.

I should explore it but I don't.

I have but one goal.

To make him feel as good as I just did.

So I wrap my fingers around it and stroke.

Until he does.

Then we lie flat out on the bed. Both of us feeling completely spent.

He rolls over, pulls my back tightly into his chest, and lazily kisses my shoulder.

Just as I'm about to fall asleep—or maybe I'm already dreaming—I think I hear him whisper, I love you.