Page 72 of On The Beach

I stood at the doorway and took it in. There was a row of neatly stacked books on genetics and cell biology mixed with dog-eared romance novels (and wasn't that a surprise), a framed high school science award, and a bulletin board cluttered with faded ticket stubs (she was a Taylor Swift fan, another surprise), and a couple of photos. One was of her and Anna, arms around each other, beaming in caps and gowns. The room felt untouched, standing as a quiet monument to a younger Belle. I stepped inside, the old wood creaking under my weight, and she turned, surprised.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" She folded her arms, clearly annoyed that I'd followed her.

"Occupational hazard." I shrugged. "Curiosity and all that." I nodded to the shelves. "Besides, I had to see where Dr. Isabelle Volnay began her world domination plans."

She didn't protest as I took a step closer, glancing at the bookshelf.

"You weren't kidding about being into genetics since you were a kid." I picked out a thick, well-worn textbook that looked like it had been through a war.Code Breakerby Walter Isaacson. "Light bedtime reading?"

She smirked. "I was a kid who preferred CRISPR case studies over fairytales."

I couldn't help but grin, imagining little Belle with her nose buried in a book about gene therapy while everyone else was probably playing with Barbies. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me." I reached out, picking up a small, framed photo off the shelf—a younger Belle with her parents, smiling proudly over what looked like a science fair trophy. "Always a bit of an overachiever, huh?"

She shrugged, a hint of pride flashing across her face. "Let's just say I like winning. And you should be talking. I've seen your resume, Dr. Augustus."

"We're two peas in a pod, Babycakes." I put the frame back down, glancing around. "You know, I think this room explains a lot. You grew up with everything so…organized. Controlled." I paused, looking back at her, softening my voice. "No wonder you'd find someone like me infuriating.Butyour family has a streak of…."

"Batshit craziness?"

I let out a laugh. "Yeah. But I like it. I like it all very much."

She gave me a soft smile, and for the first time, she looked a little less guarded, a little more like the Belle I'd seen on the island, her hair wind-tousled and her eyes full of fire.

"Babycakes, why aren't you giving me the fucking time of day?"

"It's not you, Mick."

"Please," I groaned, "not the old it's me and not you nonsense."

"It'snotnonsense," she protested. "You…"—she looked so fucking vulnerable—"hurt me."

"I know."

"And you think you can drop into my life when it suits you and throw me off balance. I hate that you think you can interfere in my life when you waltzed out without so much as a second thought."

I leaned back against the dresser, watching her, trying to gauge where she was going with this. "You think I'm going to waltz out again?"

She looked at me, a flicker of vulnerability behind her usual confidence. "Yeah, since you saidagain, which means it wasn't the first time."

The words hung for a moment; I could see how much I hurt her, how much it cost her to let her guard down, even a little.

I'd fucked up. When she confronted me about my identity, I should've been honest and told her my truth.

"You scared the shit out of me," I admitted.

"And you think it was a stroll in the park for me? I fell in…I…got attracted to someone so different than me. And then I find out…."

"What?" I persisted.

"That you were making fun of me."

"Never."

"That's how it felt." Pain shone in her gorgeous eyes.

"Belle, I know I messed things up." I cupped her cheek. "I get it. But coming back here, working with you—I'm not here for the fucking science. I'm here because I want to be with you."

She looked away as if the idea was too much to absorb. "This is my world, Mick. This life is what you left behind. How will it work when you're still that guy on the beach?"

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