Page 76 of Forbidden Fruit

The title still sends a thrill through me, even after four years. "Happy anniversary," I whisper back.

I lean into his solid warmth for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with sunscreen and salt air. After four years of marriage, my heart still skips when he holds me like this.

"Remember our first time here?" I ask, looking up at him.

Clive's eyes darken with memory. "How could I forget? That disastrous weekend when Kay thought Jack would propose to you."

"And instead..." I trail off, smiling.

"Instead, I finally told you how I felt." His thumb traces the line of my jaw. "The best decision I ever made."

"Boat, Daddy! Go!" Liam interrupts, tugging on Clive's swim trunks with the impatience only a toddler can muster.

"Aye, aye, Captain Liam," Clive says with exaggerated seriousness, making our son giggle. "Ready to set sail?"

I settle onto one of the cushioned seats, securing Liam between my legs as Clive moves around the boat, casting off lines and checking instruments. Something is mesmerizing about watching him like this—so capable, so in his element. The man who once intimidated me with his commanding presence and stern business demeanor now makes silly faces at our son while expertly navigating us out of the marina.

The wind catches the sail, and we glide into the open water. Liam squeals with delight as the boat picks up speed, his little hands gripping the edge of my seat.

"Not too fast," I call to Clive, anxiety fluttering in my chest despite knowing he'd never take risks with our son aboard.

"Just enough to feel the wind," he assures me with a wink that makes my stomach flip.

As we sail farther from shore, I can't help marveling at how much has changed. Four years ago, I was trapped in a relationship with Jack, desperate for approval, checking boxes on a life plan that wasn't making me happy. Now, here I am, married to a man who sees me—really sees me—with a beautiful son and a career I love.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Clive asks, adjusting the sail before coming to sit beside me.

"Just thinking how different life would be if we hadn't come to Cozumel that weekend," I reply, leaning against his shoulder. "If you hadn't found me crying on the beach after Jack and I fought."

"I would have found another way," he says with such certainty that I believe him. "Some things are inevitable, Rebecca."

Liam wiggles free from my grasp, crawling over to inspect a coil of rope with intense toddler focus.

"Careful, buddy," Clive says, keeping a watchful eye on him while still giving him space to explore.

I reach into our bag for my camera, wanting to capture this moment—my two loves against the backdrop of endless blue. The wind tousles Liam's dark curls as he points excitedly at something in the water.

"Fish, Mama! Big fish!" he shouts, bouncing on his little legs.

"Probably a barracuda," Clive says, moving to look over the side. "They like to follow boats sometimes."

I snapped a photo of them leaning over the edge together, Clive's protective arm around our son's waist, their matching profiles silhouetted against the glittering sea. Four years ago, I never could have imagined this life—this happiness that fills me so completely that sometimes it feels like my heart might burst.

"I think I'll frame this one," I say, checking the image on my camera's display. "Maybe for your office?"

Clive smiles, that special smile he reserves just for me. "I'd like that. Though I already have so many photos of you two, my clients probably think I'm obsessed."

"Aren't you?" I tease, setting the camera aside.

"Completely." He doesn't hesitate or joke. That's one thing I've always loved about Clive—his honesty. When he loves, he does it without reservation.

The boat drifts into a calm patch of water, and Clive drops the small anchor. "This is the perfect spot for lunch," he announces, reaching for the cooler.

I help him spread our picnic on the small deck—sandwiches, fruit, and the special bottle of champagne he brought for our anniversary. Liam settles between us, immediately grabbing a strawberry.

"Slow down, buddy," I laugh, wiping juice from his chin. "The strawberries aren't going anywhere."

The sun warms my skin as we eat, conversation flowing easily between bites. This is what I never had with Jack—this comfortable silence, this ability to be without performing or seeking approval.

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