Page 161 of One Wealthy Wedding

He presses a hard kiss to my lips. “Unless it’s yes, baby, I don’t want to hear it.”

Kite surfing turns out to be really fucking hard. I’m strapped into a training kite that Theo got for me and zipped into the wetsuit he had delivered. It’s cold in the water, especially at this hour. The sun is just peeking over the horizon, but the stiff wind and the cool air are enough to make me wish I was back inside with a book and a mug of coffee.

Theo’s house is perched on a cliff above the water with no neighbors on either side, which makes this beach effectively private. The house is wood and glass, surrounded by scrub trees and grasses that make it blend into the landscape. There are firepits outside and a massive outdoor kitchen for entertaining.

“Come on,” he shouts. “Back up with you.” He’s capably skimming over the water while he keeps an eye on me. We’re not far from shore, but he’s already drilled into me the importance of avoiding winds that could carry me farther out. They’re called offshore winds, and even Theo seems to have a healthy fear of them. Even though he doesn’t have a fear of anything else, as far as I can tell. I glare at his back before I flip the board up the way he showed me, my abdominals already screeching in protest. This kite is small and won’t pull me the way Theo’s is dragging him. I land on the water, already moving, the kite having dragged me through the swell even before I surfaced. The kite twists, and I pull hard on the right bar. Too hard. Shit. It torques the wrong way, and I go under again.

“You’re overcorrecting,” Theo shouts.

“I’ll show you overcorrecting,” I yell back.

He laughs into the wind. “Just one more. Then I’ll let you go.”

Two more. I heave myself up again and try to follow him. I skim along the waves for a second, wind streaming into my face, making my eyes water. The sun is halfway up now, bathing the ocean in color.

“Don’t look now, but you’re really doing it,” Theo says.

I startle and overcorrect again, this time to the left. The board bucks under me with a particularly large swell, but I don’t go under.

Theo whoops. He’s grinning, huge and proud. “How do you feel?”

Scared, I almost say. Fine. But actually, I feel great. “Not like myself,” I shout. “Who is this girl?”

“Remember how wild we used to be?” Theo responds. “She’s been in there all along.” I nearly fall off my board again. He’s right. The girl who used to climb trees and skin her knees and steal alcohol with her best friend is in there. It just takes a nudge to unlock it. It takes remembering how fun it can be to get out of my comfort zone.

It takes Theo.

I tumble into the water at that thought.

Theo doesn’t see it this time, just continues on, sure and strong, unrelenting and infinitely impressive.

I let myself be pulled along briefly before I head for shore. It takes Theo. And what if it does? What if my life would be better with Theo in it? It already has been.

What if I could keep him forever?

I sit in the sand and watch him. I can’t keep him. I have to make it on my own. But the thought of having Theo to support me and cheer me on and force me out of my comfort zone? My chest squeezes.

Who will defend him when he won’t defend himself? Who will make sure he knows how good and worthy he is if I’m not there to tell him? The pressure in my chest builds as I watch him. He’s farther out now and going fast, much faster than we were before. The wind is rising, and a particularly strong gust pulls him out even farther. He doesn’t seem to care, even though I can see him wrestling with the kite. A thread of fear worms into me.

Theo wouldn’t do this if it were that dangerous. He’ll come back in soon. He knows the winds and the water conditions like the back of his hand.

Except he’s still going farther out.

Is the wind going offshore? I can’t tell. And Theo doesn’t seem to be reacting.

I stand in one swift motion. “Come in,” I shout, but he doesn’t respond. He can’t hear me over the wind and the surf.

Fear morphs into full-blown panic. “Theo,” I shout as he tumbles into the water. He’s still being dragged farther out. Has he lost control of the kite? Is that something that happens? He’s grabbing for the edge, and he sinks into the water.

My heart tries to climb up my throat. He can’t die. Not when I’ve just realized I love him.

Fuck.

“Theo,” I shout again. I need to call 911. Or the coast guard. Is that what people call? I don’t have my phone. I need to go inside, but I don’t want to leave him. He’s bundling his kite as he stays afloat. He’s doing a pack-down, I think it’s called. He told me about it earlier, but promised there wouldn’t be strong enough wind to need it. Idiot man. He claims there’s a hole where his heart should be. He fills it with things like this—things that could kill him—so he can feel whole again. Not anymore. Not while I’m here.

He straps his kite to his board and starts to paddle to shore. The fear slowly drains, the lack of adrenaline making me shaky and weak. I want to collapse onto the sand.

I want to scream in his face.

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