Page 151 of American Beauty

“Everything okay?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road.

“Yeah. Elias is checking in.”

I nod, trying not to overthink it. But my brain, being my brain, runs with it anyway—because I know this man. Andsomething is off. Not bad, but different. And I can’t help but wonder what the hell he’s not telling me.

Dinner at Le Rue is perfect in every kind of way. The food is rich and ridiculous and full of things I can’t pronounce, let alone order with confidence. I fumble with the food on the menu and Alex leans over, taps the corner of the page. “You’ll love this one—trust me.”

I do. And of course he’s right. Somehow, he orders all my favorites. He’s good like that—quietly observant, always three steps ahead, a man who listens.

He pours the wine, calm and unhurried. At one point, he slides a fork across the table, offering me a bite of something from his plate. I don’t even ask what it is—I open my mouth and let him feed it to me, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on mine.

I swallow, arch a brow, and murmur, “Careful, Sebring. Keep this up and I’m gonna think you’re trying to seduce me over duck confit.”

He grins like he is. “Is it working?”

His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, soft and possessive, like he can’t help reaching for me. And all of it is making me crazy.

But I want more. And lately, I’ve been waiting for the big question. Hoping for it. Craving it.

I want to bring it up—our future, what we said we wanted, what we promised each other that night in Dallas. But I can’t quite find the nerve.

Not here. Not now. Not when I’ve told myself he’ll ask when he’s ready.

Alex watches me for a beat. “You’re quiet tonight. Is everything okay? You feeling all right?”

I smile, probably a little too quickly. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He doesn’t push. Just gives my hand a light squeeze and flags down the check with a nod.

A few minutes later, we’re stepping out into the golden spill of early evening. The air is thick with the scent of salt and honeysuckle, and Alex slips his hand into mine again.

“Take a walk with me? I enjoy using my new ankle every chance I get since it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“A walk sounds perfect.”

It’s warm as we stroll through Waterfront Park, the breeze carrying salt and laughter and something else I can’t name. Golden light spills across the harbor, soft and honeyed, wrapping the world in that kind of glow that makes everything look like it has a filter on it—too perfect to be real, too beautiful to capture in a photo.

We walk in silence for a bit, the good kind that only happens with people who know you to your bones. As we near the Pineapple Fountain, it glistens in the day’s last light, water spilling in soft, steady arcs that catch the fading sun like strands of gold.

A street musician nearby starts playing something familiar and low—a string cover of “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”

I pause, eyes drifting toward the sound. “God,” I whisper, the notes tugging at something deep in my chest. “That’s beautiful.”

Alex squeezes my hand and slows.

Right there in front of the Pineapple Fountain, he stops walking altogether. The music floats around us—haunting, gentle, familiar—but everything else falls quiet.

Alex turns to face me, still holding my hand, and something in his eyes makes my breath catch.

He stops in front of the fountain and turns to face me, both of my hands held in his like they’re something sacred.

“Two strangers. A wall between us. No names. No faces. Only voices. A connection that made no sense while making complete sense at the same time.”

My lips curve, even as my heart thuds harder in my chest.

He lifts my other hand, holding both of mine in his, his thumbs brushing over my skin.

“We spent three months chasing something neither of us could say out loud. And when you left, it felt like someone cracked my ribs open. Every version of life without you felt hollow—off, like the world was tilted sideways. But as awful as it was… I think we needed that time apart. Because it gave you the space to see what you wanted.”

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