Page 86 of On The Beach

I kissed her softly. "Yes, it is so."

She laughed, shaking her head, and I couldn't help but savor the small victory. “You're unbelievable, Mick. Manipulative, sneaky, and… completely ridiculous.”

"Andcompletely yours."

Her expression softened. "So, let me get this straight. You sabotaged a ferry to stop me from leaving the island, followed me all the way to Cambridge and barged into my lab, conspired with my family to drug me, hauled me halfway across the world, and now you expect me to… what? Be flattered?"

Shewasflattered. More than that, she knew she was loved; she knew that I was mad abouther.

"Well, yeah. After all, Babycakes, you know that love makes people do crazy things."

She had no idea these were words I never thought I'd say again. I never believed I'd fall in love. It still felt surreal to wake up in the morning and see her lying next to me in bed after I'd finally convinced her to move into my hut. To glance across the lab and catch her wrinkling her nose as she crunched data. To feel this overwhelming joy—something I never thought I was capable of—just by being with her.

"You're lucky I find crazy a little bit charming," she said somberly.

"Babycakes, I've been getting lucky ever since you stepped on the island."

CHAPTER 30

bottoms up to bad decisions

BELLE

Aweek turned into two. Mick and I had a rhythm. We did a call in the morning since Boston and Reef Harbor were in the same time zone with the team. Thanks to whatever satellite magic Mick had done, the whole island was getting better cell and Wi-Fi service.

I worked until lunchtime when Mick dragged me away to eat. After we ate, he insisted I join him when he took tourists out on the waters. I enjoyed that time as I spent it with Franco and Catogoofing off. I, Isabelle Volnay, wasgoofing off. Never in my life had I imagined living like this. Even my parents and sister, who were all a little nuts in their own way, were still die-hard workaholics. None of them would know how to rest and relax if their lives depended on it.

"We were doing you a favor," Mama protested. "I wish I could be on an island. Is that a hammock behind you?"

We were on a Family Zoom call, and I'd read them all the riot act about drugging me. I witnessed not an ounce of remorse from any of them.

"Yes, it's where Mick used to sleep. But since I moved in, he'sgotten us a bed."

"The water looks so tempting," Anna said sadly. "I wish I could be there with you."

"Why don't you come over?" I suggested.

"Can't. So much work," Anna groaned. "Not all of us can take off like you."

I quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't take off. I was kidnapped."

"Po-ta-to, poh-ta-to," Dan said. "But Anna is right, I have too much to do. I have surgeries up to here." He rubbed the side of his hand to his forehead to indicate how he was drowning in work.

"I'd be there," Dad offered. "But, Molly can't, and I'd hate to burn through vacation days without her."

"So, you're all okay being workaholics who can't take a break, but you forced me into taking one?" I was pissed at their hypocrisy.

"You don't have boundaries." Mama used her stern mother's tone. "Anna and I went to the spa yesterday, and we sleep at night for at least eight hours."

My parents were militant about getting enough sleep because the work they did meant that someone's life was in their hands.

They were right about my lack of boundaries, but I didn't thank them even though I was grateful. I had been very close to burnout, I realized. It had taken a week for me to start sleeping properly, and in just fourteen days, I felt refreshed. Mick had even asked me if I wanted to go back, but I decided that it could wait until we got the first batch of trial results, and then we'd see. I was able to work from here. Keep in touch with my teamandspend time with Mick on the beach. We were at that point in the trials where I could work remotely, and I was taking advantage of that, even though I'd been forced to do it.

But all good things had to come to an end, and they did when I got news from my team about the clinical trials.

We'd had another setback—no, another failure.

I read the email three times, each word feeling like a jab to the gut, each line pressing on a wound that refused to heal. The data was clear: there was no improvement in any of the variables we'd set to gauge progress. There was no reduction, no slowdown—nothing to give even a hint of success.

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