Page 58 of Vacation with the Ice Queen

"Isn't that just semantics?" Serena countered.

"I don't think so. One perspective leads to isolation—never trusting anyone. The other leads to discernment—learning to recognize who deserves trust and who doesn't."

The distinction felt significant, though Serena wasn't entirely convinced. "And how exactly does one develop this magical discernment? Because clearly my judgment in this area is off."

Instead of answering immediately, Lila turned to face her fully. "Do you trust me, Serena?"

The directness of the question caught her off guard. Days ago, she would have dismissed it as absurd. Trust was earned over years, not days. Yet something in her had recognized something in Lila from their first real conversation, some essential quality that had slipped past her usual defenses.

"More than I should, probably," she admitted.

Lila's smile held a complexity that belied her usual sunny demeanor. "Maybe that's the beginning of discernment rightthere—recognizing when trust feels right, even when logic suggests caution."

The idea was so fundamentally contrary to how Serena had built her life and career that she almost rejected it outright. Trust based on feeling rather than evidence? Intuition over data? It went against everything that had made her and her company successful.

And yet... and yet something in it resonated with the changes she'd been experiencing on this island. The way yoga had taught her to listen to her body's wisdom. The way meditation had shown her that logic alone couldn't access all forms of understanding.

"I'll take that under advisement," Serena said, her formal phrasing at odds with the small smile tugging at her lips.

Lila laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "I bet you say that to all the girls who psychoanalyze you on beach rocks."

The tension broke, and Serena found herself laughing too. "You'd be the first, actually."

Their eyes met, humor shifting seamlessly into something warmer, more charged. Serena became acutely aware of Lila's proximity, the way the morning sun brought out golden highlights in her honey-blonde hair, the curve of her lips still lifted in a smile.

Without overthinking, Serena leaned forward and kissed her.

Unlike their heated pool encounter or even last night's restrained goodnight kiss, this was something else entirely—unhurried, exploratory, a conversation without words. Lila responded with equal gentleness, her hand coming up to rest lightly on Serena's shoulder.

When they separated, Serena felt oddly breathless, as if she'd been running rather than sitting perfectly still on sun-warmed rock.

"What was that for?" Lila asked, her voice soft.

"For listening," Serena replied. "For asking questions no one else bothers to ask."

Lila's eyes held hers, seeing too much and somehow making that exposure feel like safety rather than danger. "Thank you for answering them."

The moment stretched between them, weighted with possibility. Serena found herself wanting to say more and explore whatever this connection was growing into. But the sound of voices—resort guests walking the beach—intruded on their private bubble.

"We should head back," Lila said, though she made no move to rise.

"Probably," Serena agreed, equally reluctant.

They climbed down from the rocks hand in hand, a small intimacy that felt both novel and entirely natural. As they walked back toward the cove where they'd left their things, Serena realized that for the first time in years—perhaps ever—she'd shared a piece of her professional pain without strategic purpose. Not to gain sympathy or advantage, not to justify a decision or deflect blame, but simply because Lila had asked and she had wanted to answer.

It should have felt dangerous, this unplanned vulnerability. Instead, it felt like setting down a weight she'd carried so long she'd forgotten it wasn't actually part of her.

By the time they returned to their starting point, the morning heat had intensified. Perspiration beaded on Serena's skin, a reminder that even paradise had its discomforts.

"The water looks inviting," Lila observed, gesturing toward the crystal-clear lagoon where gentle waves lapped against the shore. "Care for a swim before heading back?"

Serena glanced toward the ocean, then down at her expensive workout gear, now slightly damp with sweat and clinging uncomfortably. "I didn't bring a swimsuit."

Lila's smile held a hint of mischief. "Neither did I. But it's a private beach, and yoga clothes dry quickly in this sun."

The suggestion—swimming in their current attire rather than returning to change—struck Serena as delightfully impractical. The Serena who ran Frost Innovations would never entertain such an idea. That woman scheduled everything in fifteen-minute increments and never deviated from optimal efficiency.

But that Serena seemed increasingly distant, a version of herself she'd left behind in Manhattan along with her power suits and punishing schedule.

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