Page 29 of How to Say I Do
CHAPTER7
Noël
Beach.
Sunshine.
Soft sand sliding between my toes, as gentle as stepping foot on a cloud.
Wyatt’s shoulders, tanned and broad and beautiful, and beaded with salt water. Drips fell from the ends of his hair and ran down his back, zigzagging between the knobs of his spine.
He was knee-deep in the surf and swinging Jason underhand to the count of three. Liam was five feet away, his arms open and ready. Savannah and I watched the three as sea foam tickled our toes.
I had no worries. None at all. Every sharp-edged thought or hook-ended anxiety had melted from me, and I was free-floating on the shimmer of Wyatt’s smile.
Waking up curled into Wyatt’s side as dawn broke and gulls circled overhead had been embarrassing, but what was one more in a long line of mortifying events these days? Besides, Wyatt had smoothed away the awkwardness, brushing aside my apologies and the sand in my hair as he reassured me it was all good, and that he hadn’t minded. He’d fallen asleep, too, hadn’t he?
“See you later at the beach?” he’d asked.
“Of course.”
Like I could stay away.
Wyatt had become, in such a short amount of time, an addiction. Everything he was drew me in. Every part of him, from the way he tipped his hat to the light in his eyes to his tender, thoughtful touches. His infinite compassion and his immeasurable kindness had seduced the part of me that was crying out for attention. When he’d found me, I was cracked open and exposed, and Wyatt had tended to the breaks in my soul with all of his unfailing gentleness. Was it any wonder that I was intoxicated by him?
I was twenty-eight years old, and I had never before been attracted to a man. Living in Manhattan, there were plenty of opportunities to try one on for size, so to speak, if I had been inclined. I’d been asked out by guys dozens of times, propositioned for sexy interludes and slip-aways into club bathrooms. It had never been an issue to decline, flattered, but not interested. If I were being honest with myself? The way I never, ever was?
I didn’t want to decline Wyatt.
Was that something new? Had I never realized I’d wanted this? Or was this just intense emotional closeness muddying up desire? Was this—ugh, too horrible to consider—needinessor desperation for someone to care for me after I’d been dumped so harshly and publicly? Or was I so starved for affection that I’d latch on to a stranger? I’d only known Wyatt for three days. But in those three days, Wyatt had drawn me back to life.
Still, the fact of the matter was that Wyatt hadn’t made a move. He’d done the opposite, in fact, acting so polite and gracious that now I was second-guessing myself. Was I not his type? Was Wyatt only being a very good friend?
“Hey, Noël.” Liam waded out of the surf while Wyatt kept splashing with Jason. Savannah had moved back to our tiki umbrella to kick back and sip on a piña colada. “Having a good time?”
“I am.” My eyes were glued to Wyatt. He was lifting Jason above the waves, pretending Jason was Superman striding over the breakers.
“Noël, Savannah and I wanted to make sure you knew that you are one-hundred-percent invited to everything we’ve got going on. Wyatt thinks the world of you, which means we do, too. So consider this your welcome to everything, including our wedding.” He held out his hand. “Wyatt’s never been like this, you know. You’re someone special.”
I’ve never been like this, either,I wanted to tell him.I don’t know what’s happening.
Liam tipped his hat to me, then followed his fiancée up the beach.
I was so unused to everything Wyatt was. Authentic human interaction had died in my industry sometime around the first death of the crimped-up hair and neon scrunchies trend. I could charm a hundred celebrities, settle their innumerable needs until all their very ruffled feathers were well-groomed and their egos were soothed, and I could diffuse an A-list catfight with complimentary champagne and separate VIP booths. I could recite the lunch orders of each of the celebrities named in the last three years ofElite, which was as long as the most forgiving definition of relevancy extended these days. I knew the most potent blend of official press releases and leaked gossip and perfectly-shot Instagram posts to deploy to getanythingtrending.
But this? And him?
It was all so fantastically paralyzing.
I wasn’t used to this kind of ruminating, either. Deep thinking wasn’t my go-to. No, rash and brash was my forte. Leap, then look. Figure out the fall when you’re halfway down.
“Mr. Noël, come play with us!” Jason called. Wyatt hitched Jason onto his hip and smiled at me.
Would Wyatt's kiss taste like adoration if I dared to find out? Could whatever this was between us—if there was anything at all—ignite? Could I trust my own feelings in a paradise designed to sell soul-stirring romance and happy ever afters? On this beach on the edge of the world, where there seemed to be no reality and no consequence?
Figure out the fall when you’re halfway down, Noël.
I waded into the water.
