Page 52 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
"You did all this while I was in the shower?" she asks, approaching the fire with wonder in her eyes.
"I'm efficient," I say with a smile, pulling out a chair for her. "Wine?"
"Please." She settles into the chair, looking around at the setup with appreciation. "This is incredible, Oscar."
I pour two glasses of wine, handing one to her. "To new beginnings," I toast, raising my glass.
"To new beginnings," she echoes, clinking her glass against mine. "And to not wasting any more time."
We eat as the sun disappears below the horizon, sharing the delicious meal and talking about everything but work. College memories, favorite books, places we've traveled, dreams we once shared. It feels both familiar and entirely new — like we're rediscovering each other after all these years.
After dinner, I excuse myself briefly to run back to the house, returning with something I spotted earlier — an acoustic guitar, either left behind by a previous guest or provided by the owners.
"No way," Alice laughs as I settle beside her with it. "You still play?"
"We're about to find out," I reply, strumming the strings experimentally. It's been years since I've held a guitar, let alone played one. The instrument is slightly out of tune, and I spend a few minutes adjusting the strings by ear, muscle memory from my high school and college days gradually returning.
"Remember when you used to play at those coffee shop open mics?" she asks. "You were actually pretty good."
"I was mediocre at best," I correct her with a smile. "But sure, I had heart."
I attempt a song we both used to love, my fingers fumbling over the frets, producing sounds that can only charitably be called music. Alice bursts into laughter as I hit a particularly discordant chord.
"I'm sorry," she gasps between giggles. "But you should see your face! So serious, but what's coming out sounds like a cat caught in a garbage disposal."
I pretend to be offended, but her laughter is infectious. "I'd like to see you do better."
"No chance," she holds up her hands. "I know my limitations."
I try again, this time with a simpler song, and manage to produce something recognizable. Alice's laughter subsides, replaced by a soft smile as she watches my fingers move across the strings.
"I always loved watching you play," she says quietly. "Even when you messed up. Especially when you messed up, actually. It was the only time you weren't perfect at everything."
I set the guitar aside, moving to sit next to her on the blanket I've spread by the fire. We sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching the flames and listening to the rhythm of the waves. I can't remember the last time I felt this content, this at peace. There are no emails demanding my attention, no calls to return, no one to ingratiate — just this moment, this woman, this feeling of coming home.
"What are you thinking about?" Alice asks, looking up at me.
I meet her gaze, struck by the openness in her expression. "That I'm falling for you all over again," I admit. "Harder than I did the first time."
Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't look away. "That's a big statement after one day together."
"It's not just one day," I say, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's years of comparing every woman I've met to you and finding them all wanting. It's knowing that even when we weren’t talking, you were still the most important person in my world."
She doesn't respond immediately, and I don't push. Alice has always been more cautious with her heart, more deliberate in her emotions. And while that’s frustrating sometimes, it’s also something I can respect.
Eventually, she reaches up to touch my face, her fingers tracing my jaw. "I'm scared," she whispers. "This feels too important to mess up."
"We won't," I promise, turning to kiss her palm. "We're not the same people we were before. We were kids then. We're smarter now. Wiser."
"Speak for yourself," she says with a small smile. "I still made a fool of myself trying to run away this morning."
"And I still chased after you in hotel slippers and a bathrobe," I remind her, making her laugh. "Maybe we're not that much wiser after all."
She kisses me then, slow and deep and full of promise. I pull her closer, overwhelmed by the feeling that this — her, us, here — is what I've been searching for all these years, through all my successes, setbacks, and achievements.
And now that I’m finally here, relishing the achievement that is the two of us, you’d have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands before I would ever let it go.
CHAPTER 22
