He wipes a tear away with the pad of his thumb, slow and steady. “You don’t honestly believe that.”
“I saw pictures from your gallery opening,” I whisper. “There was a blonde on your arm in every one.”
“She was a fangirl.” His eyes don’t waver. “She wanted a picture. That’s all.”
“She looked at you like you hung the stars.”
“Exactly,” he murmurs. “Like a fangirl.”
I hesitate. “You haven’t… tried to move on?”
“I haven’t even wanted to,” he says. “No one else has ever been you.”
A shaky breath escapes me. “I tried to date.”
“And you clearly failed.” His hand slides down to the small of my back, pulling me tighter. “You’re holding on to me like you never let go.”
“I didn’t sleep with anyone else,” I confess, the words slipping out like a secret too long buried.
He looks at me like he already knew.
“Did you?” I ask, barely breathing.
“No, Emily,” he says, steady and certain. “Anything else?”
My voice catches. There’s too much I want to say.
So I don’t say anything at all.
He kisses me again—slower this time, deeper, achingly tender. A kiss that wipes away the ache and the distance and the time.
I melt into him like coming home.
He presses me flush against his chest, like he’s trying to rewrite all the lost time with the press of his body and the heat of his mouth. His lips graze mine again, soft and breathless.
“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he whispers. “You have no idea.”
And for the first time in forever, I feel whole again.
Like maybe this time, we’ll finally stay.
EPILOGUE 1
EMILY
Cole’s gallery sits on a bluff above the Gulf Shores, tucked into the white dunes like it was always meant to be there. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the crashing waves, flooding the space with light that dances across polished concrete floors and canvas after canvas of his work.
Today is the grand opening.
The salty air hums with voices. Tourists wander in from the beach, still smelling of sunscreen and sea breeze, tracking sand across the rug-lined walkways. Some linger over each piece, admiring the brushstrokes. Others move quickly, asking about prices, the artist,us.
His bestsellers—unsurprisingly—are the ones that feature us.
A silhouetted kiss on a rooftop. A garden wrapped in laughter. A girl looking out to sea, painted in soft blues and gold.
Each one feels like a secret we once whispered in the dark.
But when people ask about the inspiration, Cole just smiles. Quiet. Evasive.
