I drop the earring in my bag before I turn to face him. “Your eyes.”
He smiles, bringing a dimple to his cheek. “My eyes.”
I stare into them. “Before I started at Harvard, my dad and I went to Boston.”
“Coach always talked about seeing a Patriots game.”
He did talk about that. He never made it there, but we drove past the stadium twice during that visit.
“We took a ferry to Spectacle Island.” I sigh, remembering how my dad looked standing on the deck, staring out at the water. He was at peace. It was the first time in years that he finally looked happy. “A woman working at the front desk in the hotel we were staying at in Boston, recommended it.”
He takes my hand in his but doesn’t say anything.
I go on because it’s important for me to tell him. “There is all this beautiful sea glass there. It’s everywhere. You’re not allowed to take it, but…”
“But you broke that rule.” He runs a fingertip over my palm.
I nod. “I was scared I’d get caught, but there was one piece I had to have. I couldn’t leave without it.”
A soft smile floats over his lips. “What was so special about it?”
I slide my gaze to his face, taking in every feature as if I’m seeing it for the first time. This is what it felt like when I was a teenager looking into his eyes the day I met him.
“Tell me,” he urges, bringing my hand to his lips for a soft kiss.
“The sea glass was the color of your eyes,” I whisper. “I took it because it reminded me of you.”
***
He kisses me in a way he never has before.
There’s so much tenderness that it brings a tear to my eye.
I swear I feel one slide down his cheek too, but when I try to pull away from the kiss to look, his hands jump to my face, cradling me.
“I need you,” he whispers in such a deep, gruff tone that my core clenches.
I reply with only a nod and a stuttered moan.
We’re both on our feet before I realize what’s happening.
He takes my hand, leading me down the hallway to his bedroom.
The lighting is low. I can’t see his face as clearly as I want to, but I can sense what he feels.
Tonight will be different.
My hands slide to the belt of my wrap dress, but he takes over, gently nudging my fingers away.
“Let me, Eden. Please let me.”
I don’t say anything. Everything I need to say is too much for this moment.
The words have been trapped inside of me for so long that I don’t know if I can sort through them enough to make him understand them.
I love him.
I have loved him since the first time he turned around at football practice and locked those beautiful blue eyes on my face.