His eyes turn to me, dark with guilt and frustration. “I keep thinking about Josh’s family.”
“You brought them closure.” I force some confidence into my voice. “That matters more than you think.”
His gaze drops. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”
We head back to the inn along the sandy path. Scott’s hand remains clasped in mine, providing comfort to us both. The ocean continues its steady and unyielding course, a reminder to us of its beauty and its capacity to take.
The streets are alive with the energy of the 45th Annual Maverick Key Seafood Festival. Booths line the beachside road, and colorful banners and string lights sway in the breeze. Tables overflow with conch fritters, shrimp tacos, and other island specialties. My stomach rumbles. This is our first date since the funeral.
I’ve been on the island for almost two months and life has settled into a comfortable routine. The police haven’t found out who broke into my cottage, but there haven’t been any other incidents since we saw the man through the window at the inn. Scott and I haven’t been able to spend much time together since the funeral because of his schedule with the dives. And I’ve been diving nearly every other day with Wes. A knot of guilt twists in my stomach. I know it’s wrong. But I’m too afraid to tell him.
Scott snaps me out of my thoughts, holding my hand and pulling me close. He nuzzles his face into my neck. His hazel eyes are beautiful as they glimmer in the sunlight. He points at a booth where a man handles a tray of oysters, a crowd gathering to watch.
“Let’s see if we can win.” He points to theWorld’s Spiciest Oyster Challenge sign.
I wrinkle my nose. “Hard pass. I’d rather enjoy my food than set my mouth on fire.”
Scott leans in closer so I can hear him over the noise. “Smart move. Me, though? I might give it a try later. Setting my mouth on fire sounds kind of fun.”
“You’re braver than me,” I tease, my shoulder brushing against his as we make our way to a booth selling fresh crab cakes.
Scott takes my order slip to the vendor, returning with a perfectly golden crab cake wrapped in paper. “Try this. It’s the best on the island.”
The first bite explodes with flavor, and my eyes widen in surprise. “Oh my God. You weren’t kidding. This is incredible.”
“Told you.”
We wander deeper into the festival, stopping at a game booth where stuffed animals hang in neat rows, the brightly colored prizes beckoning challengers. A booming voice calls out from behind the counter. “Step right up. Knock all of them down and win a prize for the lady.”
Scott glances at me with a raised brow. “Think I’ve got what it takes?”
I cross my arms, pretending to size him up. “I don’t know. Those bottles look pretty tough.”
With determination, Scott hands the vendor a few dollars and picks up a softball. His first throw clips the pyramid’s edge, making the bottles wobble but not fall. I stifle a laugh as Scott rubs the back of his neck.
“All right, now I’m serious. Watch this.” He narrows his eyes at the target. On this throw, all the bottles crash to the ground in one clean hit.
I cheer when the vendor hands Scott a large plush octopus. “For the lucky lady.”
Scott turns to me, his triumphant smile brighter than the festival lights. “For you. An octopus. Never go diving without it.”
I take the stuffed toy, laughing. “I’ll cherish it forever.”
Further down, we stop at a photo booth decked out with silly props. Scott grabs a pirate hat and a plastic sword while I put on oversized sunglasses.
“I look ridiculous.” I adjust the enormous glasses as Scott strikes a swashbuckling pose beside me.
“Ridiculously cute,” he quips, pulling me into the frame as the camera clicks.
A moment later, the photo strip pops out with the captured images: Scott’s exaggerated pirate scowl and my mid-laugh expression, the sunglasses hang lopsided across my face.
“I’m framing this.” He tucks the strip into his back pocket.
As the sun dips lower, painting the sky with soft oranges and pinks, we find a spot near the stage where a local band plays lively island music. Couples dance barefoot in the sand, their soft voices carried on the breeze. The festive energy is infectious. Scott and I sway to the music, our shoulders brushing as we hold each other close.
I catch myself stealing glances at him, drawn to his smile, which reaches his eyes.
“You’ve got some sand in your hair.” He brushes a strand of my hair away.
