Chapter 30

30

" D o you ever miss the stars?" I ask lazily, staring out Stone's bedroom window. The gunmetal sky has morphed into a deep reddish-black as snow continues to fall.

"I'm looking at one right now."

"So cheesy." I snort and roll my eyes, but end up giggling as he nibbles on my neck and tickles my side.

"So true. Did you know because I'm engaged to one, I have over fifty thousand new followers on my Instagram? I'm super famous now. If I knew getting engaged to a hot celebrity was the key to fame, I would have done it a long time ago. It's been awesome so far."

"You're a butt face, and no one appreciates your sarcasm."

He rolls over me until I'm beneath him, his hands on the bed on either side of me as he planks above me. But that smile… holy shit, that smile might be the best thing ever. "A butt face?"

I shrug. "Just calling it as I see it, though lucky for you, your butt is pretty hot."

He laughs and drops down until he's smothering me with his weight. I pretend I hate it and squirm to shuck him off, but it's a pathetic attempt at best.

"You like my face. You like what my mouth does to you." He licks my neck and nibbles on my chin, and yeah, I do like his face and mouth. But wait…

I smack his arm. "I was making a point, and now I forgot what it was."

"Stars," he murmurs into me, kissing down my neck to the tops of my breasts.

"Right. Stars. We don't get a lot of them in LA, and obviously I'm talking about the ones we see in space and not the ones you're teasing me about being. The street pollution and smog sort of kill them there. Boston doesn't get a ton either. I don't like it."

He shifts until he's snuggled into my side, his face in my neck, and his arm draped heavily around me, holding me close. Neither of us has the desire or drive to move from his bed. I did remove and clean the plug, and then he fucked me in the shower, and after that, we crawled back into his bed and have been here since.

"The night sky is one of the things I love most about sailing and being out on the water. It's endless."

"Have you been back on Benthesicyme since then?"

He sighs and holds me closer as if he's afraid I'll slip right through his fingers and disappear again. "No. I've thought about it. I have vacation time the hospital has been pushing me to use that I never do, and I thought about going back for a few days. I just haven't been able to make myself do it. You were a pretty powerful ghost."

That earns him a kiss because that breaks my heart for him. He loves to sail, and he loves that boat, and I'd hate to think he hasn't gone back because of me. I don't dwell on that. Hopefully, things have changed for him now.

"I think back to all those stars we saw out there, and it calms me when I'm feeling overwhelmed," I admit. "I remember feeling so small and insignificant."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating into my skin. "And that calms you?" He's incredulous.

"It gives me a bit more perspective. Perspective I need. It's easy to get wrapped up in the moment and emotion of a situation. I'm good at that. Call it my toxic trait, but it's mine, and I own it and I live it like it's my job. So whenever I get to that point, I think of us rocking on that ship and staring up at the night sky, and it calms me. It reminds me that my problems aren't always as big as I think they are, and there are so many out there who have it way worse than I do. That's for damn sure."

"It's one of the reasons I started my charity," he says, popping up and resting his head on his hand with his elbow digging into the pillow beside my head. We watch the snow fall, and it's so beautiful and peaceful, I never want to move again. "I have so much, and there are so many who have so little. So many who need more when I don't. Kids are the most vulnerable with this."

"Is that why you went into pediatrics?"

He nods. "One of the reasons, yeah."

"I donate a chunk of money to your charity every year."

A smile curls slowly up his lips, but he keeps his gaze trained on the window. "I know you do."

I gasp. "How? I do it anonymously."

His chin dips down to me, and he quirks an eyebrow. "Have you met Vander?"

I sigh, slightly peeved by that. "I should have known."

"Honestly, it's more for security reasons than anything else. I just like to make sure that large anonymous donations are on the up and up and not some asshole trying to hide or offload money for one reason or another. I don't want to be a tax shelter. "

"It's a good charity."

"It's a great charity," he tosses back at me. "It's what I'm most proud of, and I follow the kids and the families it helps. My mom, who has been running the Abbott-Fritz charity for our family, has more or less taken this on with me, and she's big into fundraising galas. We have one next week." He pauses. Hesitates. "Do you want to be my date?"

His date. Why does him asking me to be his date make my heart pitter-patter and my chest squeeze?

"I'd love to be your date." Now it's my turn to pause. To hesitate. "Are we going to talk about this?"

"Which part?"

"I don't even know." I roll so I'm facing him in the muffled darkness, my hands tucked against my chin. "I don't know what happens next."

"Me either," he admits soberly, his finger tracing circles on my hip beneath the T-shirt he gave me to wear. It's all I have on and he's only in boxer briefs, and I'm doing my best not to get distracted by his touch or his body especially as I can see the guilt in his eyes. What we're doing and what this is, with all our love and uncertainty and complications, scares and worries him. It does the same to me too. It comes with heavy consequences and life-altering risks. Still, his expression turns resolved as he says, "All I know is that I want this, and I want you."

"I'm here for only another two months. After that, I'm not sure. But I want this, and I want you too."

He hitches a shoulder. "Then we'll figure it out as we go and see where we are then."

I chew on my lip, and he smirks, leaning forward to pull it from my teeth.

"Relax. It'll stay our secret for now. I have no intention of broadcasting what we're doing in here. The world already thinks we're engaged. No one needs to know the rest. At least not yet."

"Loomis will know. He'll take one look at me and know."

"My guys won't ask directly because I'm not sure they want to know. Forest, I don't think will ask either because he won't want to know and probably doesn't think his brother would betray him like that." He sighs. "Thankfully, he's in LA and not here and doesn't know his brother is actually a piece of shit."

"You're not a piece of shit. This is what's right. I was a child when I was with Forest, and we've been over for years. I know you feel guilty, and part of me still does too. I don't want to hurt him. But I don't want to stop living my life or give up on the things I want because his feelings will be hurt over it."

He nods, but I don't think he's fully sold.

"We'll keep it a secret." It's not a question. Right now, I think it's a necessity.

"Wouldn't be the first one we've kept."

True. "I'm good with—" My stomach gurgles so loudly it cuts me off.

"Hungry?" he deadpans, his lips twitching.

I laugh. "Evidently. All your sexing worked up an appetite."

He leans in and kisses me. "Then we should feed you because I plan to sex you up again when we get home."

"When we get home?" I parrot.

Another kiss, and then he rolls out of bed and goes for his closet. "Yup. We're going out on a date, remember? Go get dressed into something warm. I know where I want to take you."

"It won't be open. It's a blizzard outside."

"It'll be open. It's just some snow. Welcome to Boston. Now move your adorable ass."

I do as I'm told—for once—and drag my adorable ass down the hall because I am hungry and the idea of a snowy date with my guy sounds pretty great.

With both of us bundled up in large, dark coats, beanies on our heads, gloves on our hands, and boots on our feet, we venture out of the building. It must be too cold or too snowy for the press, as it seems they've given up and think we're too chicken to go out into the storm because the sidewalk is clear for the first time in weeks. As it is, Boston Common is mostly empty save for a few scattered people brave enough to walk through.

Stone takes my hand, and we cross Beacon Street to head into the park, immediately turning right and meandering toward the Public Garden. This is my favorite part of the city, especially in the spring when everything is in bloom, and you can't help but be in awe of its beauty.

It's funny, I grew up in this city, but when you grow up in a totally awesome place, it just becomes part of the fabric of your life and being. I haven't walked the Freedom Trail, or been to Paul Revere's house. I haven't done a Duck Boat tour or been to the science museum or aquarium since I was probably toddling about. I've been to countless sporting events, but that's just my family, and that's just Boston.

We make sports look good.

But I think when some of the madness dies down, I'm going to take Loomis, who has never been to Boston until now, and we'll take the city by storm, tourist style.

Stone and I race through the park, feeling like we're getting away with something, because for now, we did when I nearly trip over something that wrenches a screech from my lungs. I look down and then burst out laughing.

"Oh my god! I nearly killed Mama Duck!"

"What?" Stone turns back around, and a smile erupts across his lips. "Christmas isn't for another seven weeks."

I shrug, taking in the large mama duck, cast in bronze, with her trail of baby ducks waddling behind her, all of them wearing scarves and Santa hats. "But look how cute they are all in a row and all dressed up. I want one."

"A duck or a bronze statue?"

"Probably a statue. Ducks aren't the nicest animals. One beaked at my toe when I was a kid."

He laughs, his head thrown back and everything.

"Hey! It's not funny."

"A duck beaked at your toe? Yeah, that's funny. And the fact that you want a bronze one? Well, I guess that's what makes you you."

I raise an eyebrow. "If by that, you mean awesome, then yes."

"That's one word for you."

I flip him off, and he catches my hand and brings my gloved middle finger to his mouth so he can kiss the tip. He holds it between us along with my other hand.

"My favorite is when one of our teams is in the playoffs or wins a championship and they're dressed in jerseys," he remarks and then smirks. "I put Mason's jersey on Mama Duck last year with his signature on it. It lasted three days out here until someone realized and took it."

"I remember coming here once around Halloween and seeing them in costumes. Little witches and ghosts and spooky things. I didn't think to look at them last week, but I bet they were dressed up. I'm kind of bummed I missed it."

He closes the small gap between us, snow falling all around us, the city white and calm and beautiful with yellow streetlamps not too far in the distance. "They do a parade every spring where kids dress up and walk through the park like little ducklings."

My eyes bolt wide as my smile spreads. "Really? I didn't know that. I might have to see that for myself."

"It usually rains because that's Boston in April for you, but yeah. The kids are cute. Rory comes all dressed up, and Owen takes about ten thousand pictures of her."

"I want like ten kids. Not really, but that sounds fun and daunting and terrifying all at once." I don't even know where the sentiment comes from, but even in the dark, I can see the way his eyes blaze and are almost victorious. It makes my hands shake in his.

For a moment we're silent. Just staring at each other, the ducks between us. Then he whispers, "I would never turn down ten kids with you."

That's all he says, but already, this is the best date I've ever been on.

"You'd have to teach them to sail. I still don't know larboard from starboard and aft from?—"

"I taught you aft tonight. You seemed to like it and take quickly to it."

I blush Red Sox red. "Only when my sir tells me to relax and that I can take it."

He grins. I grin back. Then he leans over the ducks and kisses my lips, his hands climbing to frame my face as snow falls all around us. "You're perfect, you know."

"I know."

He smirks. "And humble."

I smirk back. "Totally."

"Are you brave?"

"What?" I snort.

"Are you brave?"

"Sometimes."

"Come here. We're going to cause mayhem." He pulls back and points to the ground. He lies on his back on one side of the ducks, and I do the same on the other, ignoring how freaking cold and wet the snow is beneath me. His phone with the camera app opened is held over our faces, and he says, "Smile."

I smile, and the flash pings, momentarily blinding us .

He sits up. "That's one for our eight thousand grandchildren. Ready?"

"For what?"

He grins at me. "To show them all up. I have fifty thousand new superfans to feed."

He uploads the picture to his Instagram, writes a caption about how beautiful Boston in the snow is with his fiancée, and that's that. We're out there. On social media as a smiling couple for his new fifty thousand and the rest of the world to see.

"I can't believe you just did that," I snap, a little annoyed.

He chuckles. "I didn't. It's in my drafts. I'll post it tonight after we're safely in bed."

Okay. That I can live with. "You hate that you have fifty thousand new followers."

"Yep. But you're worth it. Now let's get some dinner."

He stands and takes my hand, and we race through the rest of the park, slipping and sliding on ice and snow until we're across a street and down another and on some snowy sidewalk that hasn't been shoveled or plowed and snow is up to our mid-shins.

He opens the door to a small restaurant and peeks his head inside. "Are you open?" he calls out, and immediately an older woman comes bustling out from the back.

"Ah, Mr. Stone. Come in. We're open." She snags on me and then him and smiles broadly. "But for you, we're now closed."

And that's how it goes.

Stone and I eat a Mediterranean feast only lit by candlelight. We share a bottle of red wine and are talked into a couple of shots of some alcohol with a crazy name I can't pronounce that tastes like licorice. It's insanely romantic, but more than that, it's us. It's the us back from the boat. The us with no one else watching as we hide from the world. Where we just talk and laugh, and it doesn't matter what we say because the other listens and understands and never judges. It's freedom and intimacy and feeling heard and seen.

I eat my weight in everything because the food is out of this world good, and when we leave, Stone pays as if the restaurant had been full of patrons this entire time. He doesn't flaunt his wealth despite his gorgeous apartment and lavish yacht. He never wears designer clothes or speaks to expensive tastes. He has a very nice car, but rarely drives it, though he has been since all this started.

He's so different from the man he used to be. The man he was before he got on his ship two years ago.He has changed. Or maybe matured is the better way to say it. The old Stone was the definition of a playboy. Women and extravagance.

He grew up, and I know he's worried about reverting back to his old ways or being that selfish man again, but I don't ever see that happening. Falling in love and wanting happiness for himself doesn't make him a bad or a selfish man. I understand his quandary and why he thinks that, and I don't have a lot of answers for how to fix it.

He thanks our hosts, and we leave the restaurant, heading back out into the dark, snowy night, hand in hand. And right now, the city is ours, empty and cold with our breaths a plume of white vapor. No one is around. Hardly anyone.

And for right now, it's just us, and us is perfect. Only perfect never lasts.