Page 89 of Vacation with the Ice Queen

"I do," she admitted. "Though I've probably experienced about ten percent of what the city actually offers. I have myroutines: the same coffee shop, the same running path in Central Park, and the same three restaurants I cycle between when I actually leave the office for meals."

"The CEO in her natural habitat," Lila teased gently.

Serena laughed, the sound still rare enough to feel like a gift. "A very predictable one, I'm afraid. Rachel used to say I was the only person who could make Manhattan boring."

The mention of her ex-wife hung briefly between them, but instead of retreating as she might have days ago, Serena simply continued, "She wasn't entirely wrong. I've spent fifteen years in a city known for surprises, and I've done everything possible to eliminate them from my life."

"Until now," Lila said, gesturing around them.

"Until you," Serena corrected softly.

The simple admission sent warmth spreading through Lila's body. She looked out toward the ocean, visible as a darker shadow beyond the trees, searching for the right words.

"I've been thinking about what happens when you leave," she said finally. "Not in a catastrophizing way, just... realistically."

Serena shifted forward, her expression carefully neutral though her eyes revealed more. "And?"

"And I think I'd rather have these five days, knowing they matter, than spend them holding back to protect myself from the goodbye."

Something vulnerable flashed across Serena's face. "I want these days to matter too."

"Then let's make them count."

A comfortable silence settled between them, filled with night sounds and possibility. Lila found herself studying Serena's face in the gentle porch lighting—her elegant cheekbones, the subtle laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, the silver streaks in her dark hair that caught the light like moonlight on water. She wasbeautiful in a way that went beyond conventional standards, a beauty of presence and intensity and that rare unguarded smile.

"What?" Serena asked, catching her gaze.

"Just appreciating the view," Lila answered honestly.

A blush crept up Serena's neck, unexpected and endearing. For someone so confident in boardrooms, she seemed genuinely flustered by simple appreciation.

"Would you like to walk on the beach?" Lila suggested, rising from her chair. "The night is perfect for it."

Serena stood, helping gather their dinner dishes with domestic ease that belied her job status. "I'd like that."

They worked together to clear the table, moving around each other with a newfound awareness. When everything was settled, Lila grabbed a light crocheted wrap for her shoulders and led the way down the path toward the shore.

"I never noticed how quiet it gets here," Serena said as they walked. "In Manhattan, there's always some background noise. Traffic, neighbors, sirens. You tune it out after a while."

"The island has its own soundtrack," Lila replied. "You just have to listen differently."

As if to prove her point, a chorus of insects rose around them, accompanied by the distant call of some night bird and the ever-present rhythm of waves against shore. Serena's head tilted slightly, actively listening perhaps for the first time since her arrival.

"I hear it now," she said with quiet wonder.

They reached the beach, where moonlight silvered the sand and transformed the ocean into a vast, shimmering plain. Lila slipped off her sandals, letting her toes sink into the cool grains. After a moment's hesitation, Serena did the same, the small act of barefoot spontaneity another tiny victory against her rigid self-control.

Their hands found each other naturally as they walked along the water's edge, fingers intertwining as if they'd been doing this for years rather than days. The simple connection grounded Lila, making the moment feel both precious and entirely normal, as if they'd somehow skipped ahead in the relationship choreography to something that felt like belonging.

"I had forgotten what this feels like," Serena admitted, voice barely audible above the gentle waves.

"What what feels like?"

"Being present. Not checking my phone every thirty seconds or mentally reviewing quarterly projections while pretending to enjoy the moment." She squeezed Lila's hand gently. "Actually being here, right now, nowhere else."

The confession, simple as it was, revealed more about Serena's transformation than any grand declaration might have. Lila felt a swell of something warm in her chest, a feeling too fragile to name just yet.

"Presence is a practice," she said instead. "Not a destination."

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