A short break wouldn’t hurt.
Spending a week on the coast sounds good, and the more I think about it, the more I like the idea.
The voices turn into a muffled hum as I get swept away by the view. Seagulls chase each other on the beach, and waves crash gently against the shore.
I get lost in my surroundings, feeling at peace.
Minutes later, I refocus and spin around, sauntering back. I walk toward the entrance when a few men and women catch my eye, a splash of color grabbing my attention.
I glance to the side, my gaze getting snagged by a woman’s fluid, red gown. The plunging neckline reveals her back down to the dimples of her backside.
That very second, I register her spine's beautiful curvature, her smooth skin, and her hair tumbling down her back. I admire the cut of her dress and the flattering fit, the slinky fabric intimately outlining the swell of her butt.
A man’s hand rests on the small of her back, expressive and noticeable like her body.
My eyes linger on the perfect French cuff and the expensive cufflinks peeking from under his suit jacket.
I roll my gaze over his hand, the long, sculpted fingers striking me as familiar.
My heart skips beats when I see his ring.
Slowly, I drag my gaze over his arm and shoulders and then to his hair. The mix of wheat blonde and sun-kissed strands makes my blood cold in my veins.
My mouth falls open in surprise.
It can’t fucking be.
Someone in the group says something funny, and they all start laughing. I slow down a bit, keen to get a glimpse of his face and confirm my suspicion.
He whips his head to the side, half of his smile and profile entering my line of sight, bringing back a flashback of him.
I look at him, paralyzed.
One step away from the door, I freeze––my hands sweaty, my legs rooted to the ground. My soul leaves my body as I witness their collective glee and his irresistible charm captivating that woman.
As stunning as he was before, he was nothing as he is now.
A magnetism flows throw him, gleaming in his eyes and pearly smile. He’s no longer the hustler or the man living on the fringe.
Something happened to him.
He no longer has the feral glint in his gaze and restlessness.
He’s self-assured and settled. Confident and powerful. He has the glow of money on his face and the arresting beauty stemming from that power.
He’s no longer tormented, looking for a safe haven.
He’s found his path.
My eyes go over his attire again, taking a swift inventory of his designer suit, shoes, and high-end watch.
Slowly, he strokes the woman’s back.
My breath gets stuck in my throat as my anger flares. Her melodious laugh feels like a nail in my head, making my teeth grind.
Now is the moment to pull away from them, yet I can’t.
My gaze sweeps the woman. She must be gorgeous if her front is half as beautiful as her back.