20. Salvatore

In the morning, I wake to see Gia still asleep next to me. My first thought is that I need to shower and dress so that I can be gone for work before she wakes up—and then I remember that I promised to spend the day with her.

I don't regret the promise. It just feels odd. I'm not someone who has often taken days off, for anything. Other than that annual trip with her father that I mentioned, I've always had a tendency to use my ‘days off' to still do work at home. And when I have taken time in the past to relax, more often than not, it's at home, at least in the last ten years or so. I haven't been the type to spend my time off out at a bar or a club in a long time.

So the thought of spending a day doing leisure activities seems, oddly, a little daunting. I'm not sure if I want to mention that to her or not, and I mull over it as I shower, taking my time this morning since I have nowhere that I need to be immediately. It makes me realize, as I think about it, that it's come to matter to me what she thinks of me. That it worries me that, if I tell her I have no idea how to plan a day at the beach for us, she'll think I'm boring.

She already wishes you hadn't married her,I think grimly as I rinse out my hair, breathing in the eucalyptus-scented steam in an effort to calm myself. It's not as if you can make things worse.

That, ironically enough, is the nudge I need to just talk to her. I finish my shower, putting on a pair of khaki shorts and a linen button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and go to wake her. I hesitate for a moment at the edge of the bed, looking down at her peaceful, sleeping face. I haven't been the one to wake her in all the time we've been together so far. In fact, I can't recall ever having done what's in my head just now. I feel as if I'm outside my body, watching myself as I lean down to brush her hair out of her face with one finger and kiss her lightly on the forehead.

It feels sweet. Intimate. Things that have never been a part of my life. Something in my chest cramps with a feeling that approaches panic, but I push it back down. I'm going to have to face these things, if I want a possibility of a future with her. I have to figure out how to allow myself to feel the things that I've closed myself off from my whole life.

Gia makes a small humming sound under her breath as I pull back, sleepily shifting in bed. I have that same urge that I felt the last time I looked at her like this, the desire to simply rejoin her in bed and keep her there—and I'm flooded with the same guilt, too.

But that's not what today is about. Today is meant to be about getting to know each other, feeling out what life together might be like if Gia could accept that there's no going back on our marriage, and if I could give her what she needs. And I realize, as I reach down to gently urge her awake, that I'm afraid of either outcome.

If there's no possibility of us finding a mutual middle ground, then the future ahead of us is one of mutual unhappiness instead. We'll find other things in life to give us happiness, I'm sure—Gia has already said that she sees our future children as a source of that for her. But there will be no happiness, no satisfaction from our marriage.

But if we do find a way?—

I don't know how to make a wife happy. How to be a good husband. I'm confident that I'm a man capable of intimidating others when necessary, of exercising diplomacy when need be, of handling sensitive business dealings, and managing dangerous situations. None of that helps me when it comes to knowing how to make Gia happy, how to be the kind of husband she seeks, how to give her the intimacy she craves. And I feel as if I'm going to disappoint her, no matter what.

She makes another of those soft sounds as I gently nudge her awake, her eyes fluttering open. "Salvatore?" She sounds briefly confused, as if she, too, forgot that there was a reason I wouldn't have already left, and then a small smile curves the corners of her mouth. "You didn't go to work."

I feel an odd pang in my chest. "You thought I would, after what we agreed to last night?"

Gia pushes herself up, sitting back against the pillows, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and touch her hair again. It looks thick and soft, falling in heavy dark waves around her face, and I want to feel it slide through my fingers. "I thought something might come up," she admits.

It's a careful way, I know, of saying that she thought I would find an excuse to back out of it. It hurts a little that she would think so, but at the same time, I can understand it. Our marriage hasn't exactly been amicable so far.

"Do you want me to leave?" I smile a little as I say it, trying for a joke. I want to lighten the mood between us, to start this day off right.

The smallest of smiles curves the edge of her lips. "Would you?" she asks, and I raise an eyebrow, moving a little closer.

"No." The word comes out huskier than I mean it to, her proximity affecting me even now. "You asked for a day with me, Gia. And I do want to give you what you want when I can."

Her eyes widen a little, and I think I see that flicker of hope there, reflected in her, too.

"I'll call for breakfast," I tell her, taking a step back. "We can sit on the deck, have something to eat, and plan our day. What do you say to that?"

Gia bites her lip, but she nods. "Alright. That sounds nice."

Breakfast is delivered, and Gia goes to shower and dress while we wait. When she comes out of the shower, I glimpse her through the glass door, her towel dropping to the floor as she reaches for the bikini that she laid out on the bed.

My body instantly reacts, every muscle tightening and my cock immediately swelling against my thigh. She's so fucking perfect, every inch of her—from the lithe, taut muscles of her back to her narrow waist, and the heart-shaped curve of her ass. From this angle, I can just see the slight curve of her breast, and something about that drives me even more wild than seeing her breasts entirely bare. My palms itch with the urge to feel that soft shape against them, my cock suddenly stiff and throbbing, and I reach down, pushing the heel of my hand against it in an effort to subdue my erection.

I can't help but wonder if she's doing this on purpose—if she made sure to leave her clothes out in the bedroom in hopes that I'd see this little show she's putting on for me. I let out a sharp, frustrated breath, squeezing the edge of the lounge chair's cushion to keep myself from getting up and going to her.

It's only made all the more difficult when she bends over to step into her bikini bottoms, her ass perfectly angled to give me a glimpse of her soft folds. I'm absolutely sure, in that moment, that she did it on purpose to torment me.

She stands up, hooking her bikini top behind her back, just as the staff member with our breakfast tray walks in. I'm so focused on Gia that I nearly jump with surprise at the sight of another person, breakfast totally forgotten in my fixation on my gorgeous, naked wife.

You need to start thinking of me as your wife.Her words float back to me as the guilt over ogling her begins to take root, and I do my best to push it away, to take into account what she said. There's a part of me that knows she's right. She's young, and that will pose its own challenges in our relationship, but she isn't a child. And she doesn't deserve to be treated as less than the woman she is, just because I feel guilt over my choices.

"You look like you're thinking particularly hard about something," Gia teases as she walks out, waiting for breakfast to be set out on the table before taking her seat. She raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to come join me?"

She did do it on purpose.There's no question of that, when her mouth is curved in that small smirk, her gaze flicking down to my lap as she waits for me to get up from the lounge chair and come join her at the table. If I stand up right now, there'll be no missing the thick outline of my cock in my shorts.

It doesn't help that she didn't put a sundress on yet over her bikini. She picked the emerald green one, as if she figured out that I liked that one the best out of all of them. The color is perfect against her tanned, olive skin and dark hair, and just looking at her makes me ache.

Gia reaches over to pour orange juice and champagne into a flute glass as if nothing is amiss, putting scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, and a scone onto her plate. She glances up at me once more, that small smile still flickering at the corners of her mouth. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stop thinking about the throbbing between my legs as I push myself to my feet and walk over to join her.

She doesn't say anything, but I don't miss the way her gaze flicks down to the front of my shorts ever so briefly, before returning to her food. "So what do you want to do today??" she asks innocently as I sit down, reaching for her mimosa.

I can think of one thing right now.I press my lips together. I have no intention of saying anything even close to that. For one, I don't know if I'm ready to go back on my insistence that our marriage bed will remain cold, other than for the purpose of having children. I'm not sure if I'm ready to allow the kind of lust that I felt for Gia yesterday to be an acceptable feeling to have about my wife, or if I'm ready to let myself feel that kind of desire entirely, instead of when I can no longer keep it on a leash. And for another, that's not what Gia asked for last night, when she talked about today.

"I'm afraid planning vacation days isn't my strong suit," I say wryly, reaching for the orange juice. "But I'm open to ideas." I pour a little into my glass, adding champagne.

"What about all of this?" Gia motions to the villa around us, and I laugh.

"Well, one of the perks of our lifestyle is that whatever needs to be done, there's always someone who can be hired to do it. My assistant, and a very good travel agent put together a portfolio of ideas and sent them over to me, and I approved what I thought you would enjoy—the villa, the room service, all of that. I told them to spare no expense," I add. "I wanted this to be an unforgettable experience for you, Gia, regardless of the reasoning behind why we left. I told them to make certain to book the best of everything that was available."

Gia gives me an odd half-smile. "That was sweet," she says softly. "Anything you planned yourself would have meant a lot, though, you know. All of this is beautiful, and stunning, and I've definitely never experienced anything like it. But I want us both to put some thought into today."

"You first." I return her smile. "And we can bounce ideas off of each other. How about that?" I can see that she's full of them, and I truthfully didn't plan to do much more than enjoy the villa itself at night, and work.

"You did say you'd never really been on a vacation before," Gia admits, shaking her head. She leans forward, pursing her lips as she scoops up a bite of salmon and eggs with her fork. "Well, I was thinking we could walk around the market first. I went there on my first day here, and it's a lot of fun. A lot of unique vendors, fun foods, that kind of thing. And then we could go down to the beach, lay out for a little while, go for a swim. When we're ready for lunch, we can go to one of the beachside restaurants—a different one," she adds quickly, when she sees my gaze darken at the memory of the bar I found her at yesterday. "Have lunch and a drink, maybe walk through some of the shops. And then, after dinner, we could go back out to one of the bars. Supposedly, there's live music and dancing. That could be fun. It's been a while since I went out dancing," she adds. "Not since the last gala I went to with my father, and that feels like it was ages ago. And those parties are all so stuffy, anyway. I feel like this would be different. More relaxed."

I feel another vague flare of panic. Dancing at a beachside bar sounds so far out of the realm of something I would do that I can't even quite picture it. But I see Gia's eyes light up as she describes her ideas, and I find myself not wanting to disappoint her. In fact, I find myself wanting to go along with her ideas, just to see if it would be as much fun as she seems to feel that it would. "I can't think of anything to add. But everything you've suggested sounds like all of the best things we could get up to here. I'm fine with that."

Gia's smile broadens, just a little, and I feel something flip in my chest. I like making her smile, I realize. I like making her happy. And despite what happened yesterday, I find myself willing to look past it, if there's the possibility of fixing how we got there in the first place.

"I'm going to go finish getting dressed," Gia says, when she's done with her breakfast and mimosa. "Give me maybe twenty minutes?"

"You can have as long as you need," I assure her. "If it's a day off, then there's no rush, right?"

Gia laughs. "Now you're getting the idea. And put on some swim shorts," she adds. "We're going to the beach, remember?"

Her laugh tugs at something in my chest. It's bright and happy, a sound I can't really recall having heard from her since we've been married, and certainly never directed towards me. It makes me want to hear it again, to do something else that pulls that sound from her. It makes me feel happy, in a way that I can't remember having felt in a long time.

"Alright," I concede. "I did bring a pair, although it's been a long time since I've used them."

"There's a pool at the mansion," Gia points out. "An indoor, heated one, too, for the winter months."

"That doesn't mean I've ever used it." It occurs to me as I say it how much I really don't ever take advantage of the luxuries that my life offers me—or take all that much pleasure in the ones that I do indulge in. I eat the finest foods available and dress in tailored, bespoke clothing, with the best liquor I could ask for delivered to my mansion. Every indulgence or form of entertainment I might want is available to me, but I don't enjoy it the way I should. I've been so focused on work, on serving Enzo for so much of my life, that I've taken for granted the things around me that enhance my life so much.

In that way, I realize, my marriage to Gia could be good for me. She clearly has no intention of giving up on the things that she enjoys about life and, given the opportunity, will indulge in any new experience offered to her.

It's one of the things that makes me feel sometimes dangerously close to feeling more for her than I planned, or than I feel I should.

I grab a pair of swim shorts, going into the bathroom to change while Gia pulls one of her sundresses out of the wardrobe. It's odd—I've been physically intimate with her, been inside of her, the first man to ever do so…and yet, I feel uncomfortable undressing in front of her. Doing so casually feels like a greater level of intimacy, even though it's a perfectly natural thing to do in front of my wife.

When I come back out, Gia has a white sundress on, a pretty lightweight thing made out of a gauzy material with a halter neck and a lacy hem. I hesitate, remembering the gifts I bought her yesterday. When I'd seen her at the bar with Blake, I'd had half a mind to throw them in the damn ocean, after what she did. A part of me doesn't think she deserves gifts after flirting with another man.

And part of me accepts that regardless of whether or not her behavior was acceptable, it was because of the circumstances of our relationship. Circumstances that I've created.

I can, at least, accept that holding grudges won't help us move forward.

I walk over to the chair that the pair of pants I wore yesterday are draped over. The cleaning staff hasn't been here yet since yesterday afternoon, so no one has cleaned up the dirty clothes, thank goodness. The boxes are still in the pocket, and I slip them out, turning to Gia.

"I have something for you." I sink down on the edge of the bed, holding out the two small boxes to her.

She blinks at me, startled. "You bought me something?"

I nod. "I went out at lunch yesterday to find a gift for you." I take a deep breath, trying to think of how to explain how I felt yesterday, before everything blew apart. "I know I'm not making you happy, Gia. But gifts seem to make you happy, and so I?—"

The look on her face makes me break off abruptly. "I'm not saying you're spoiled," I add quickly. "I'm saying I know that you like pretty things, and when I gave you those onyx earrings to wear with your dress for dinner, I noticed you wore them a few more times. So I thought—" I let out a sharp breath. "These are for you."

Gingerly, Gia takes the boxes out of my hands. She sets the smaller one on the dresser, lifting the top off of the longer one first. When she sees the bracelet nestled inside, I see her eyes go wide.

"Oh," she says softly. "It's beautiful."

"You think so?" I let out a sigh of relief. "I don't really know how to pick these things. I've never shopped for a woman other than you."

Gia looks up at me, a small frown on her lips. "No? You've never bought anyone else gifts?"

I shake my head, feeling vaguely uncomfortable with the line of questioning. I hadn't really expected to talk to Gia about any other women. "I had an assistant send flowers in the past," I say finally. "But I've never been with anyone long enough to think about getting them anything fancier than that."

Gia nods, as if she's not entirely sure what to say. But she reaches down, gently taking the bracelet out of the box. "Here." She holds out her wrist. "Put it on me?"

I feel her shiver, ever so slightly, when I touch her skin. Her wrist feels delicate, almost fragile in my fingers, and I'm struck with that urge to protect her all over again. She's stronger than she looks, I know that, but she feels so breakable like this. It makes me want to hold her close, to promise her that I'll protect her from any harm.

But I've promised her that already, and it hasn't been enough. It's not what she needs, not really. Or maybe it's what she needs—but it's not what she wants. What she wants from a husband—from me—is much more complex and harder to give than something as simple as protection.

Gently, I clasp the bracelet around her wrist. She glances at the other box and reaches for it, smiling when she sees the earrings. "These are beautiful, too," she says softly. "You definitely know my taste in jewelry."

"I guessed," I admit. "I'm not entirely sure what your taste is, yet. But if I keep buying you gifts, I'll learn."

Gia laughs. "I like the sound of that. Are you ready to go?"

She's not wearing any makeup, her hair loose, the dress floating just above her knees. She slips on a pair of flat leather sandals, and glances back at me. She looks astonishingly beautiful like this, naturally lovely. To me, she looks even more beautiful than she did on her wedding day, in a gown of lace and silk with her hair and makeup perfectly done.

I take a breath. "Let's go."

It's hard to turn the part of my mind off that's always attuned to what needs to be done—to calls that need to be made, meetings that need to be arranged, business that needs to be handled, and bribes that need to be meted out, warnings that need to be delivered. There's more to this life than sitting behind a desk with a glass of cognac while my men handle things. After decades of this, I'm so accustomed to it that forcing those thoughts out of my head feels unnatural. But I put my phone on silent as per Gia's request, shoving it into my pocket and following her out of the villa with our security in tow.

The day is beautiful. Warm—just this side of hot, actually—the sun shimmering off of the water and a faint breeze carrying the scent of salt and easing the sharp sting of the sun. Gia leads the way, taking me to the open-air market that she said she visited on her first day. It's bustling with tourists, and I feel my muscles tense at first, looking around for signs of danger, and to make sure that the security is watching us. I catch a glimpse of Vince melting into the crowd, and I try to relax, but it's difficult.

And then, I nearly jump as I feel Gia's fingers slip through mine. I glance over at her, and see her looking up at me with a wry smile on her face.

"It's fine," she says gently. "We're not in any danger here, Salvatore. I've been out every day since we came here, and I haven't had any trouble at all. Has Vince told you there was any trouble that I didn't know about?"

I shake my head. "No. He said all's been well, every day so far."

"Then try to relax." She squeezes my hand lightly. "Please."

The last thing that I expected was for Gia to hold my hand of her own volition. The feeling of her fingers curling around mine is good, and I do feel myself relaxing, just a little. It surprises me, how much such a small touch can do. I've touched this woman in ways more intimate than any other man ever has, and yet, I've so rarely touched her in the small ways that feel somehow more intimate than fucking. Maybe it's that I've had sex with plenty of women, but I've rarely held anyone's hand, or touched the small of their back as I guided them into a room, or laid a hand on their thigh. Touch for the sake of lust, to slake desire—that I've had my fill of in my life. But soft, sweet intimacy is something that I can't recall the last time I partook in.

I fold my hand a little more firmly around hers, and follow her further into the market.

Gia is clearly delighted by all of it. We stop at a hat seller's stand, where she looks through a variety of wide-brimmed beach hats before settling on a white straw one to match her dress, with a blue chiffon ribbon wrapped around it. She sets it on her head, tilting her face up to look at me. "What do you think?"

"You look adorable," I tell her frankly, and she wrinkles her nose at me.

"I don't want to be adorable."

"What else should I call it?" I reach up, tipping the brim of the hat up so I can dip my head beneath it, and without thinking, I rest one hand on her waist, pulling her closer. I lean in, and brush my mouth against hers.

I feel her gasp. I feel the instant she leans into me, her hands coming up to press against my chest, but she's not pushing me away. For the first time, there's no resistance from her. Nothing other than her soft lips parting under mine, her tongue flicking out hesitantly to meet mine. She tastes sweet, a little sharp, like the mimosa she drank this morning, and my head spins with a sudden, desperate need for her. I nearly slant my mouth over hers, deepening the kiss, until I feel someone bump into me, and I remember where we are.

My arm goes around Gia's waist as I break the kiss, steadying us both as the crowd moves past, and I straighten as I look down at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest heaving slightly, and her eyes are wide.

She looks as if she's a little in shock.

"That's the first time you've kissed me since the wedding," Gia whispers.

That can't be true.I run back the list of our encounters through my head—the fraught wedding night, the moment when I lost my control in the workout room, the night she convinced me to take her virginity entirely, her catching me in the bathroom, yesterday afternoon when I lost control with her. And I realize, with something approaching shame, that she's right.

I haven't kissed her since we stood at the altar, on our wedding day.

In some deep, hard-to-reach part of myself, I think I knew it would change things. That kissing her again would mean something. And it did. At that moment, I wasn't thinking about whether I should or not, about whether kissing her was something I ought to be allowed, about whether it fit into the set of boundaries that I built for myself around our marriage.

I saw her face, her smile under the brim of that ridiculous hat, her nose wrinkling with annoyance at my choice of words, and her eyes narrowing, and I wanted to kiss her. It had been so simple, and I hadn't thought about it at all.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?" I murmur, still holding her close. The crowd is flowing around us, and I hear a few murmurs of annoyance, but I couldn't care less.

"Maybe later," Gia breathes, and I see her throat tighten a little as she swallows. "I want the rest of our day. And if you kiss me again, I think we might end up back at the villa."

She isn't wrong. I pull back, letting her lead me through the crowd, my head still spinning with what just happened. I'm lost in my thoughts until Gia pulls me abruptly back to the present, waving a hand at me as she stops in front of a stall.

"I got this the first day we were here," she says. "You'll love it."

I nod numbly, handing her my card and letting her buy whatever it is that she wants. We end up at a picnic table with two small bowls of fruit, covered in a sprinkling of lime juice and chili seasoning, and a large cup of lemonade.

"It's sweet and spicy and a little sour with the lemonade. Try it," Gia urges. "It's so good. I could eat this every day."

I reach down, taking a bite. The flavors explode over my tongue, and she's right. It is delicious, different from what I normally eat, but nonetheless incredible. "You're right," I tell her, taking another bite and reaching for the lemonade. "I should ask Frances to learn how to make this."

"Oh, that's a good idea!" Gia exclaims, taking the cup out of my hand. "That would be amazing."

Something tugs in my chest at that, a realization that it's the first domestic thing we've ever talked about happily. It's a small thing that shouldn't mean all that much, but in our circumstances, it feels like it means everything.

We linger a little bit longer in the market, before tossing away the cup and bowls and heading to the beach. I can't help but think that actually being out on the beach isn't all that appealing—it's sandy, and the light wind that's sprung up means it takes us a few minutes to get the blanket that we brought spread out and held down. Even so, there are still grains of sand on it. I feel strongly that I'd prefer looking at the water from our pool deck. But Gia is clearly excited about the beach, and I promised her that today would be whatever she wanted it to be.

When she starts to reapply her sunscreen, I mind being out here less.

I can't help but look as she rubs it over the curves of her breasts, down her sides, over the long stretch of her legs. I find myself curling my fingers into my palms, aching to rub my hands over her body the same way, to be the one smoothing the lotion over her skin. The thought of the security out here the last few days, watching her while she does this, sends that simmering burn of jealousy through my veins, and I have to grit my teeth against it.

Gia turns to me a second later, a smile on her lips. "Put some on my back?" she asks, and I'm all too happy to acquiesce.

We lay out in the sun for a little while, both of us with books that we brought along. I have to admit, once I get past the irritation of the occasional burst of sand blowing onto the towel and sticking to my skin, it's nice to be out this close to the water. The crash of the waves is closer here, and the sound of the seabirds darting up and down the beach, and there's a different feeling to it than lying out on the deck. Still, I know for sure which I prefer.

"I'm going to get in the water," Gia says after a little while. "Come with me?"

I raise an eyebrow. "I already have sand sticking to me. Now we're going in the salt water?"

Gia rolls her eyes playfully. "That'll wash the sand off. A win/win. Come on—we can go get lunch after this."

I frown at her, but the pleading look that she gives me is hard to ignore, and I sigh, standing up as I reach to strip off my shirt. "Alright, then."

The look on her face when I toss my shirt down to the blanket makes me forget all my complaints about the sand. Her gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my chest and upper arms, a heated look in her eyes that immediately makes me think that going into the cold water might be a good idea.

It startles me, seeing the desire on her face as she looks at me. It never occurred to me, when I made the impulsive decision to marry her in order to keep her out of the Bratva's clutches, that she might come to want me. I assumed that when I upended all her plans for her future, she would resent me indefinitely. That even if we found a way to make peace on that subject, she would never want me the way she clearly wanted her Bratva fiance.

And I was so sure that I could—and should—never want her that I hadn't even considered what might happen if she did.

Now, as I see her look at me with the sort of desire that I never imagined seeing in her face, it hits me that she's right. That I've been unfair to her, to steal her away from the marriage she planned for and condemn her to a cold, passionless union for the sake of keeping her protected. It was for her own good, and certainly not a fate worse than being trapped with the Bratva—but I thought it would be enough just to protect her.

I didn't think past that one goal.

But if we make this more?—

I feel that sense of panic writhing in my gut again as I follow Gia down to the water's edge. I've been around long enough to know what comes of this. To know what could happen if I let myself explore these feelings that she rouses in me. One day of letting my guard down, and I can already see things in her that could make me fall for her. So what happens after that?

I'm afraid of what happens if I let myself love her. It's not just the lingering guilt I feel over my own desire, that nagging reminder that she was entrusted to me to protect, not to take to my bed. I also fear that if I let myself fall for her, I won't be able to do just that—protect her.

Enzo's love for his daughter, his desire to make her happy at all costs, nearly led to her being fed to the wolves. If I allow myself to love Gia—albeit in a different way—will love blind me similarly?

I was raised to believe that feelings are for men without the responsibilities and power that I have. I often thought, as I spent my life working for Enzo, that without my clear-headedness, he might have made many more mistakes than he did because of the innate kindness he had. I gave up the chance for a family to focus on serving Enzo, to make it my life's work. To prevent myself from ever having anything else that could distract me.

But today, I can feel something changing. I find myself wanting to be softer with Gia. To give her what she so clearly wants.

And I can't help but wonder if I have a responsibility to make her happy, since I claimed her on her wedding day, and insisted that she be my wife.

"Are you coming?" Gia's voice cuts through my thoughts, bright and a little high-pitched from the cold as she dashes into the water. I follow her, sucking in a breath at the chill as the water laps at my calves.

"Is this not insanely cold to you?" I shiver, walking a little deeper, wincing as the cold water grazes my upper thighs, and then higher. "It's still spring, you know, even here."

"It feels good to me." Gia dives under the water, and for a moment, I feel a flash of fear as I see her disappear. She resurfaces a moment later, and I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I was holding.

It strikes me how deeply protective I am of her, in ways that I don't think even I fully realized. It's just water, just a tropical beach—but the instant she went under, a dozen different scenarios flooded my mind of ways that something could have happened to her. I know that's not normal. That if I stifle her like that, she'll never love me.

Today has given me a glimpse of what life could be like, if Gia and I were happy together. I'm afraid to want it. Afraid to hope for something that I wrote off a long time ago, that could hurt me if it goes wrong. And there are so very many ways that it could go wrong. Even normal marriages, without the stresses of our strange lives, without the difference in our ages, with more in common than we have, go wrong all the time.

Our marriage is nearly impossible to dissolve. But I know that if Gia and I were happy for a while, only to lose that happiness and for our marriage to go back to the way it was before, it would be even worse than how things are now.

Gia disappears under the water again, and then springs up an inch away from me, emerging like some kind of dark-haired mermaid. Water is dripping down her tanned skin, and she's close enough to touch. I feel my body tighten in response to how close she is, every part of me aching to reach out for her, to pull her close and kiss her under the bright sun, standing here in the crystal blue water.

Why not?The question burns into my mind, challenging everything I've thought up to this point. She's my wife. Why not kiss her here, on our honeymoon, in this beautiful, romantic place? She hasn't moved away, and I can feel her waiting for something. For me to make a decision—a choice, maybe.

I reach for her, my hand dipping beneath the cold water to touch the smooth, bare skin of her waist. It feels warm against my fingers, and I pull her closer, all of my awareness narrowing down to this. To her. I've never felt anything like it before. I've never felt anything so intensely.

Gia tips her head back, looking up at me as I pull her against me. She feels soft and warm, her skin wet against mine, and it makes my head spin with desire. Her eyes widen, her lips parting on a soft breath as she feels us touch, and I reach up with my other hand to slide my palm against her cheek.

Her eyes flutter closed. I feel her lean into my touch—a sign of trust. And not so long ago—yesterday, even—I would have said that the only way I could repay that trust was to deny her. But now, I've started to think that it might be something different.

That maybe it's more than trust. It's a willingness to give me another chance. To see if I might do things differently.

I slide my fingers into her wet hair, feeling it glide over my skin. My thumb brushes under the edge of her chin, tilting it up, bringing her mouth towards mine. And when I press my lips to hers, it feels as if the whole world shifts around me.

It feels as if everything is different. Brighter. The heat of the sun beating down on us, the cold of the water lapping at my legs, the feeling of her hands sliding up my chest, around my neck, holding me as she arches into me and her lips part under mine. The call of birds, the smell of salt—it all forms a moment that I know I'll remember, regardless of what happens next, of what comes after this. I cling to it, because I'm not sure there's ever been a moment that I want to remember more.

My fingers curl around the back of her head, my other hand sliding to the small of her back, holding her against me as her lips part and my tongue slides into her mouth. She tastes sweet and salty all at once, like the ocean water, and I hear myself groan as I deepen the kiss, wanting her in a way that goes beyond lust. I can feel my body responding to her, all the signs of arousal springing to life that I'm so very familiar with, but this feels like something more than that. It's not like any kiss I've had before.

"We could go back to the villa," Gia whispers breathlessly against my lips, when I finally break the kiss. We're still standing very close to one another, touching, her hands linked around the back of my neck. "If you're hungry—" Her eyes twinkle with mischief, and I narrow mine at her.

"I promised you lunch. An entire day out, I believe, was the promise you exacted from me last night. I'm not going to go back on it now." I lace my fingers through hers as her hands drop to her sides, pulling her in for one more light kiss. "We'll end up back at the villa soon enough."

Gia pouts a little, but I can tell she's pleased that I still want to spend the rest of the promised day with her. We go out to lunch, to a different restaurant with fresh seafood and some of the best tacos I've ever eaten, and drink margaritas sitting out on the deck. Afterwards, we walk through the shops as I promised her before, and Gia ends up buying a long, silky yellow dress and a woven leather belt to go with it, and a pair of dangling shell earrings. She tucks her packages into her tote, and as the sun starts to set, we begin the walk back to the villa.

Gia goes to shower when we get back, and I know she's wondering if I'm going to join her. It seems like the obvious thing, after that kiss earlier in the water. But I hang back, waiting. I see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, and I know what she's thinking—that I'm reconsidering my apparent change of heart now that we're back here. But that's not it at all.

Tonight, I think things might be different between us. And I want to do that right, if that's where the night is going.

If I'm going to try to give her everything, I want to begin exactly as I would have done it from the start.