"Say his name again?"

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"Maverick."

"No, say all of it."

"Maverick Samuel Tavare."

Finley scrutinizes me, puckering her lips and narrowing her eyes. She knows something. G.o.d, I hate when she knows things. "I've seen that look before."

"What look?"

"When you said his name. It was like... Wait a second. Are you?" She waggles a finger at me, then begins to laugh. "Hot d.a.m.n, girl! You have feelings for him, don't you? You like him. This isn't about Chris-I mean it is a little bit-but it's bigger than that."

"Slow down," I say, holding out my hand to stop her. "Yeah, I like him. He seems like a great guy, but-"

"Uh-huh. That's not what I mean." Finley's eyes light up. "You. Like. Him."

"Three days, Finley. You can't know those things in three days."

"I didn't say you love him, but there's definitely something there. Am I right? And that's why you're having all these emotions after sleeping with him. You don't want it to end."

"I don't know what I want."

"Obvious."

"Where is he now?"

"Still asleep."

"You left him without saying anything to him?" She's shocked. Why is she shocked? It's what she does.

"Yeah ... ?"

"Okay, so let me get this straight: you went back to his room, had killer s.e.x-freaking twice!-and after he fell asleep, you snuck out?"

"That sums it up." I run a hand through my hair and sigh. I'm in over my head. "What am I going to do?"

"Look, Ali, you're my best friend in the whole world, and I love you. So I'm saying this as nicely as I can: Get. Your a.s.s. Back there. And once you're there, get naked and give that man a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b he'll never forget. Then after that. Don't. f.u.c.king. Leave."

Chapter 15.

Present Day 4:44 a.m.

I hear Finley's voice before I see her. A sense of momentary relief hits me.

"Room 316," a nurse tells her.

"Thanks," she says, and a second later she's in the doorway to Maverick's room. "Ali."

I try to stand, but I fall back down into the chair. I'm exhausted and my legs are having trouble holding my weight.

"Girl." Finn slides a chair next to me. "You look like s.h.i.+t."

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

"Really. I'm okay. It's just ... been a long night."

My BFF blinks. Then she takes my hand. "It's okay to be falling apart right now. You're not fine, Ali, and you're ent.i.tled to be not fine."

Finley's words. .h.i.t hard, like she's given me permission to lose control. I'm sad, because my Maverick is in critical condition. I'm anxious, because I have no idea what's going to happen, and I'm angry. This isn't fair! Maverick didn't deserve this.

I glance at Maverick. The cuts on his face are difficult to look at. Most are little nicks, probably from shattered gla.s.s, but some are larger. One is half-concealed by the bandage wrapped around his head. The st.i.tched-up gash on his swollen lip is the hardest, because I've been staring at it, and I can't remember what his smile looks like. All I see are the f.u.c.king threads.

The f.u.c.king threads that are holding him together, that shouldn't f.u.c.king be there!

"Ali..."

I open my eyes. I'm clutching the blanket over Maverick's stomach, squeezing so hard my knuckles have turned white.

"I called him, Finn. I called his office, and the secretary said he was in meetings all day." She's blurry through my tears. "I didn't get to talk to him. I didn't tell him."

"He knows, Ali." She nods. "He knows you love him."

"Does he? I shut him out. It's been months since I told him."

"Of course he does. You guys. .h.i.t a rough patch. That doesn't mean everything you had disappears." My best friend eases me back to my chair. "He knew you were planning that dinner. That's love."

I nod, hoping she's right. I inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I got him a gift." I let go of the blanket and smooth it out over him again. "After our brunch I wandered around the mall. I was getting him something for our anniversary, but the more I looked, the more I realized I had no idea what he wanted. A watch seemed stupid. Sports stuff, but we have nowhere to put anything extra. He doesn't collect anything, and you don't buy clothing for an anniversary. I'd almost given up when I pa.s.sed the toy store. But there, in the window I saw the perfect gift. Something so silly." I look at my husband. An oxygen mask over his mouth. Gauze wrapped around his upper arm and his head. Who we used to be seems like such a long time ago. How did things go downhill so quickly?

I run my fingers down his cheek. The beginnings of stubble sc.r.a.pe my skin, and I lean down and kiss him softly. A trace scent of his aftershave still lingers.

"It's a stuffed animal jellyfish," I say, and Finley chuckles.

"He's going to love it."

Chapter 16.

Cancun, Mexico 27 Months Ago I don't follow through with Finley's plan to go back to Maverick's room. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. His door is locked and I don't have a key, which means I'd have to knock and wake him up.

But with Jake there I can't stay in Finley's and my room either.

So I grabbed my sketchbook, pencils, and colors and wandered down to the beach behind our hotel. Moonlight still reflects off of the water in a silver path of s.h.i.+mmering crystal. I walk along the sh.o.r.e, studying the angles until they're how I want them. Then I sit down in the sand and draw my knees up to form a solid surface on which to work.

I begin with the moon, making it the focal point. I add the shadows and just a touch of turquoise. Then I spread out to the sky and dot in the stars. I'm less worried about those. They'll s.h.i.+ne through darkness on their own.

I'm dying for watercolors. Liquid white on canvas would make the water and the moon's reflection so easy. I go slow and work with what I have.

It's tranquil out, and drawing gives me the escape I need. Out here, with a pencil in my hand, life is easy. I have no past, no mixed up emotions. I retreat within myself, and all I see is cerulean, as serene and soothing as the Caribbean.

At daybreak, the sun is barely above the waterline. It's incredible, this morning. The oranges and yellows and reds. If I could, I'd stay on this beach forever, painting the sunsets and sunrises that are so brilliant I can't do them justice.

I'm still sketching when someone plops down beside me. The motion takes me out of my zone and instantly transports me back into reality. All of the warring emotions rush through me at once.

I know it's Maverick, and I can't look him in the eye. What if he's disappointed? What if he's not?

Finley was right earlier: somehow I developed feelings for this man, and last night sealed them into my heart. Goodbye is coming, and I'm not ready.

"It's a nice morning," Maverick says, his voice low.

"Yeah, it is."

"Was it this nice last night? I have a balcony, you know. You could have drawn from there."

I nod. "I know."

Maverick turns to me, but I don't meet his gaze. "So why'd you leave?"

And there it is. The question I don't have an answer for.

My nerve endings come alive, alerting my body down to my bones. I wish I didn't have these kinds of reactions. "Fear."

"Of me?"

I look at him. "No, of course not."

Maverick doesn't respond, waiting for me to continue. But how can I, without sounding like an idiot?

Maverick brushes a knuckle over my cheek. "I don't want you to be scared."

"I don't want to be either."

"Then don't."

"It's not that easy."

"Nothing's that easy." He leans in and kisses me, tender, making me believe I can wave my fear away with the flick of my wrist. His forehead touches mine, our breath mixing in the s.p.a.ce between us. "But we only have a few days left here, and I want to spend them with you. I want to see you laugh and smile and lose your breath to me every night."

"I want that too."

"Good." He kisses me again. "Let's go find some breakfast."

Maverick and I spend the day swimming at the resort pool and lying out in the sun. Neither of us mention last night or this morning, but my mind is still racing. I don't want to presume his intentions, but it sounded like I'm more than a one-nighter to him.

Dark clouds begin to roll in over the ocean. Maverick tightens his hold around my waist as we watch nature's show. Lightning strikes the Caribbean in ribbons of silver that splinter in every direction. Thunder echoes through the air.

"It's majestic, isn't it?" I say. "The way the blacks and grays contrast with the blue skies and white clouds? How even the color of the water seems to change?"

"I've never looked at a storm and thought about color."

"Really? Then what do you think about?"

"That it's going to rain, and I should probably get inside. I do like how the air smells, though. It doesn't smell like this in Chicago."

"What does it smell like in Chicago?"

"Pizza, the river, and the CTA."

"That's gross."

"That's Chicago, baby."

I point out toward the storm. "Look there. See how the sunlight hits the backside of those clouds? How the tones are just a touch different there? Now look at the water below, how it's more gla.s.sy, do you see?"

Maverick moves the hair off of the back of my neck, and I realize he's not interested in what I'm showing him. "Hmm-hmm," he hums. "Phenomenal." He presses his lips against my neck.

"You're not looking," I say, half-giggling, because what he's doing is amazing.

"Sure, I am. But the storm is coming our way, and I think we should move this to my room."

I close my eyes as Maverick's fingertips slip down my back and under the water. He's behind me now, his teeth nibbling on the straps behind my neck. Hands circle to my stomach and inch down, down until he grazes my core.

"Come with me," he murmurs in my ear.

He has me. "Okay."

This might be stupid. They say no one falls in love this fast. But the way my heart races when he's near, the way my skin p.r.i.c.kles at his touch, and the stir in my stomach every time he looks at me-what is it? My only comparison is Chris, and this feeling is different.

It's pouring by the time we get to Maverick's room. Once inside, he opens the balcony doors, letting in the stormy chill. The sound of the rain and the scent of salt.w.a.ter push inside too.