4. Milo

It was… wow.

Sure, I preferred the real thing—diving put me in the middle of it all, swimming right through a school of fish so abundant that they flooded my whole field of vision. It meant zipping up my wetsuit and actually getting in the water. Becoming part of a world that moved at a different pace, my bubbling exhalations the only noise.

Still. This was beautiful.

“Turned out great, didn’t it?” Logan asked in a murmur. A faint smile quirked his lips, hands in his pockets and his figure bathed in the refracted glow of the sea. Correction— he was fucking beautiful.

“Yeah,” I agreed, equally low. Wrestling my attention away from him, I took in the curved panels of transparent acrylic that framed the dining area below us, the restaurant something like a half-submerged dream. Where we were waiting to be seated, panoramic shots that I had taken stretched along the arched walls—sunlight that streamed through the water in long, silvery beams, illuminating patches of deep blue and coral pink. A preview of what lay beyond, so to speak.

He shifted slightly closer, his knuckles brushing the back of my hand. “Can I pull the ‘proud boyfriend’ card, or is that too cheesy?”

I shot him a smile. “It was your idea.”

“Yeah, but it’s your pictures.” Blue shimmered on his face, and God, I’d missed him. Silly—it had been only a week. While I’d been chasing aggregations of whale sharks and manta rays some eighty miles northwest of Malé, Logan had taken the chance to visit the Prescott Resort in the southernmost atoll of the Maldives.

“I wouldn’t even be here without you,” I said.

I didn’t feel weaker for admitting it. Logan had a way of nudging me out of my comfort zone— hey, what about this? Ever thought about that? But he never pushed, let me sit with whatever idea he had until I was ready to put it into action. Entering a prestigious nature photography competition and taking second place? Freelancing for a travel magazine in between running photography courses for Katie? Offering my pictures to this restaurant as soon as the building permits came through? His ideas. My decisions.

He claimed it went both ways, that I grounded as much as challenged him, made him want to do ever better at combining profit and people. He’d thrown himself into his role with the Prescott chain like he had something to prove. Which—he still felt he did.

Not so. His aunt and uncle kept expanding his list of responsibilities and trusted his judgment while his cousin had taken to bouncing strategy off him. As for his parents… Lovely people, just not the emotionally vocal sort. But every time Logan left the room, they were damn near bursting with pride.

“Careful, man.” Logan’s shoulder pressed against mine. “That’s my boyfriend you’re putting down.”

“Oh?” I bit down on another smile. Logan kind of had that effect. “You’re gonna do something about it?”

“Not in public.” His grin turned slow and wicked. “I think this calls for a private demonstration.”

I was about to reply when a waitress came to collect us. Dressed in a long robe of velvet blue, she sashayed down the spiral staircase that led to the restaurant’s main floor. Our sleek, minimalist table reflected the undulating water, the menu leaning toward fresh seafood. Around us, quiet conversations blended in with the gentle sound of waves from hidden speakers.

We placed our orders before Logan leaned back in his chair and studied me. I did the same, bumping our feet together under the table.

Damn, he looked good . His white shirt contrasted with a golden tan, hair the perfect length for me to bury my hands in later.

Yeah. I really had missed him.

It wasn’t blind dependency, though. It was trust and mutual support, knowing he’d be there to catch me after a bad day and that I’d do the same for him. So…

“I missed you,” I murmured.

Brief surprise glittered in his eyes. True—I wasn’t great at emotional declarations. Something his parents and I had in common, wasn’t it? Then he shot me a brilliant smile, dimples poking shadows into his cheeks. “Me too.”

I smiled back and took us to stable ground, namely the absolute wonder of diving with whale sharks. Watching them move had felt as though I was witnessing something ancient, almost mythical—massive, graceful creatures, their sheer size both humbling and awe-inspiring. A living piece of earth’s history.

By the time our starters arrived, we’d moved on to his last few days. “Did they manage to stabilize the coral growth in the nursery?” I asked, cutting into my seared tuna.

“Yeah. Got the algae overgrowth under control, too.” A playful note entered his voice. “Unfortunately, they also added a sculpture in the welcome area that’s just… several shades of ridiculous. Looks like a jellyfish had a seriously bad day.”

Ha. We’d been in touch a bit, but he must have decided to save this one for a live retelling. “Show me?”

After a surreptitious glance at our surroundings, he slid his phone across the table and… yeah. It was, well. A lot .

“What’s the title?” I asked. “ How Many Tentacles Is Too Many ?”

“I chose not to ask.”

“Your restraint is admirable.”

He winked. “And don’t you forget it.”

The hum of the restaurant faded into the background as we traded more stories between bites. After a waiter cleared away our main courses, Logan settled back slightly, attention drifting to the shifting view beyond the acrylic wall.

“You know they do underwater weddings here?” His casual tone carried that telltale hint of something more and oh. Oh no .

I swirled the wine in my glass, my tone careful. “Kind of cheesy, isn’t it?”

“I mean…” The corner of his mouth twitched downwards as he shifted in his seat. “Yeah. I guess.”

God, I loved him. In fact, I was absolutely fucking stupid about him. Tangible proof? Round, shiny, and hiding in my pocket.

I fought a smile. “You do know you’re a terrible liar, right?”

He dropped his gaze to the table. “Well, I just thought, you know... it’s kind of nice. In a way.”

For a beat, I simply watched him—the way his fingers traced the edge of his plate, the faint flush creeping up his neck. Did he really think...? Yeah. He did.

Jesus, as if I’d ever reject him.

“Logan.” I reached over and touched the back of his hand. “Look at me?”

He did, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

“It’s not a no,” I said, low and firm. “Quite the opposite. But I want to be the one who pops the question.”

“You want...” Slow relief swept across his features. Then a grin spread, dimples staging a triumphant return. “Yeah?”

My idiot heart beat out of time. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” His voice was soft, and for a few seconds, we stared at each other, the ocean outside a kaleidoscope of blues.

This was... God. We were doing this, then? Or, I was doing this. Would be doing this. I still needed a plan, a speech, hadn’t gotten that far just yet. The ring? Yes, that part I had covered. Rings, actually, because I’d known the moment I’d stumbled upon them a couple of weeks ago. It had been in a small Miami boutique that showcased handcrafted, ocean-themed jewelry, tucked between a vintage record store and a café boasting the ‘world’s best empanadas.’ Drawn inside by a silver pendant shaped like a breaking wave, I’d sifted through a whole array of rings, each unique and beautiful in its imperfection.

I’d settled on matching, simple bands etched with a pattern of gentle waves, metal catching the light in a way that reminded me of sunlight dancing on water. They weren’t flashy or extravagant, just… solid and steady. Like the constant ebb and swell of the sea.

Cheesy , God. I blamed Logan.

“You’ve got until Christmas,” he said right into the spiral of my thoughts. “Three months. Or I’m taking over.”

I let out a breath, warmth creeping up my cheeks. ”An ultimatum, Logan? Really ?”

He shot me an impish look from underneath his lashes. “Think of it as motivation.”

“No pressure, huh?”

His laugh echoed against the backdrop of the ocean, one or two neighboring tables glancing over. “None at all. So. Tomorrow? Or are you going to make me sweat it out until Christmas Eve?”

A grin pressed against my cheeks. “Wait and see.”

“Not like I’ve got a choice,” he grumbled. His expression turned serious a moment later. “Hey, just so we’re clear… Take your time, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

I studied him—the earnest set of his eyes and the way his hair fell across his forehead, curling just slightly around his ears. Nearly one and a half years in, and I was still so stupidly in love I couldn’t see a future without him. My grin broke through. “Yeah. I know.”

Dessert arrived in the form of a decadent duo of chocolate creations. We swapped bites, debated the merits of dark versus white chocolate, and then why Nia and Tom still pretended it was casual when they were so obviously, utterly gone for each other. By the time our plates were empty, any tension had melted away .

The gentle sway of the spiral staircase led us back to the surface. Outside, a warm breeze greeted us, stars scattered across the sky like specks of bioluminescence in the deep, the moon a thin slice of silver.

We took off our shoes to follow the shoreline, the sand cool beneath our feet. Our hands bumped, at first by accident, before Logan lightly tangled our fingers. I love you , I thought, and maybe I didn’t have a perfect speech or a bottle of champagne, maybe we were both a little tipsy and I had no plan, just rings in my pocket and my heart in my throat.

Good enough.

“Logan?”

He made a questioning noise, watching the waves that rolled in. When I pulled him to a halt, his attention snapped to me.

“Maybe,” I started softly, and fuck, I was doing this. I was really doing this. “Maybe I don’t need until Christmas.”

His face went still. “No?”

“No.” I stepped a little closer and dropped my shoes in the sand, fumbled for the small, weathered box in my pocket. “Since, you know. I might have been carrying this around for a little while now.”

He inhaled, lips parting as his gaze flickered down. “Is that?—?”

“Like I said…” I took a steadying breath, in time with the waves. “I wanted to do the asking. So—Logan Prescott. You’re a pain in the ass, and you leave your socks in weird places, and you always need to have the last fucking word.”

“Wow.” A shaky laugh escaped him. “You’re really nailing this.”

“But also,” I pressed on, “you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Because even though you get me, you don’t let me get away with anything. Because you make me better . So, uh.” Smooth. I cleared my throat. “Marry me?”

A beat passed when he simply stared at me, and shit, had I misread him? No. No way .

“Logan?” I tried, voice catching just a little.

“Sorry, yeah.” He gave a sudden, breathy chuckle, teeth flashing in a smile that lingered. “I just honestly didn’t think you’d ask.”

I inhaled and raised the little box. “Is that a yes? ”

He didn’t answer—not with words anyway. Instead, he pulled me in for a kiss that didn’t bother with niceties, hot and open right off the bat, swirling tongues and hands clutching me close. The world grayed out until it was just us and the steady pattern of the ocean.

Yes .

THE END