Chapter 107

We walk for hours along the beach – long, languid hours, chatting about small things – the way the sand feels, the sea looks, how the sun feels on our skin. It’s only when I can feel myself burning – even under my stupid fisherman’s cap – that Christian drags me home. Even then I’m reluctant, though – I love being on the beach.

“Nooo,” I moan, putting my weight into the heels as Christian pulls me by the hand towards the house’s little porch. “Ten more minutes!”

“Iris,” he sighs, though he’s smirking as he turns back to me, “I let you stay out ten more minutes and you’ll shrivel up into a little crisp!”

“It’s worth it,” I growl playfully, narrowing my eyes at him.

But Christian just laughs, and tugs harder so that I stumble forward and land against his side. But I laugh too, and wrap my arms around his waist, and let him lead me back into the house.

We get busy, then, with our own little tasks, which just feels…so incredibly lovely. I mean, I honestly don’t know what’s so wonderful about it – I make us little cups of coffee, and Christian takes his to the couch with the newspaper while I get started on the dinner. And there’s really nothing special about that…

Except, well, that it’s just so incredibly normal. Just me and Christian, spending our day together as if we don’t have a care in the world.

Which is all a ruse, of course. I’m well aware that we’re wrapped up in an incredibly precarious situation but…

Well, until Nico comes back? I guess I’m well contented to play house with my oldest friend.

I take a quick shower to wash the beach off and then head into the kitchen, taking out a bunch of food from the refrigerator as I sip at my coffee, considering it. I mean, it’s way more food than the two of us could eat over the course of the day but…I guess I’m kind of in the mood for a feast. So, I get started, and lose myself to the happy work.

A few hours into it, Christian comes up behind me.

“What are you even doing?”

I jump a little, surprised, and spin to grin up at him. “Cooking.”

He laughs, shaking his head and looking around. “Iris, this was enough food for a week.”

“It still is!” I protest, gesturing at it. “This will all keep! And the pasta will be even better as leftovers.”

He laughs, shaking his head at me, and then starts to roll up his sleeves. “How can I help?”

“Nooo,” I moan, shoving at him, trying to get him out of my kitchen.

My kitchen, I think, passive, a bit gleeful. And somehow, I know that it’s right – that this is Christian’s little beach house, but very much my kitchen.

“What!?” He protests, resisting, smiling his gorgeous smile down at me. “Iris, you’re doing too much! I want to help you!”

“No, you’re taking all my fun away! Get your own fun! Besides, you don’t know how to do anything.”

“I can…slice stuff,” he mutters, stopping his press forward but still not letting me push him fully away. Instead, he wraps a warm arm around my shoulders, tugging me close. “I can…poach something.”

“You don’t even know what poaching is,” I murmur, narrowing my eyes as I look up into his face.

He smirks. “I know what it tastes like when it’s all done.”

“See?” I say, grinning up at him even as I shake my head. “You spoiled Italian boys, always letting the women do the work.”

“And I’m trying to break that cycle!”

“Not on my watch!” I laugh, and step back, ducking under his arm and giving him one more shove. “Seriously, Chris, I want to do this! Just let me!”

“Yes ma’am, yes ma’am,” he murmurs, giving me a half glare and stepping away. “I’ll go take a shower then, okay? And when I come back...”

“When you come back, we feast!” I call, waving him away as I turn back to my work.

It’s not a lie, either. When Christian comes back, smelling deliciously of clean man, the feast is nearly finished. He comes and gives me a sweet kiss on the forehead, asking what he can do to help, and I shoo him away, telling him to pour us some drinks. He does as I make our first plates – appetizers are important, after all – and carry them over to the table.

We sit at almost precisely the same time, Christian putting a glass of rose wine in front of me just as I put a plate in front of him. “This is way too nice,” he murmurs, smiling at me, I think truly impressed and touched that I’ve gone through such effort. “I just made you stew. You’re showing me up, Daisy.”

I deep warmth blooms in me as I beam at the compliment and the nickname. “Oysters poached in champagne is my love language!” I say, settling happily in my chair. “Now eat, eat! There’s way more where this came from.”

Another hour slips by easily, the sun dipping far below the horizon at this point. Our conversation likewise flies, passing seamlessly between our old memories and the things we love. We take some time then, catching each other up on the things in our lives that we’ve missed. All the stuff I’ve been dying to talk to him about for months, but which we haven’t, because Christian’s kept a wall up between us.

But that wall, apparently, has crumbled to the ground – and I couldn’t be happier about it.

The only thing we don’t talk about, though, is…the future.

As we chat quietly over a raspberry and lime sorbet which both of us pick at because we’re completely stuffed after our first five courses, my eyes keep flicking to Christian’s cell phone back on the coffee table. The screen keeps lighting up with text after text and has been doing so for about an hour.

And even though I know that Christian left it there so we wouldn’t be bothered during dinner, and he could put all of his attention on me…

Well, what if it’s Nico? What if something went wrong?

“Um…” I say, lifting my chin towards the living room. “Do you…need to get that?”

“What?” he asks, turning towards the living room. “Oh.” he says, his eyes clearly lighting on the bright screen. “No,” he says with a quick shake of his head, turning back towards our table.

“Chris,” I protest, starting to get genuinely worried when the screen goes black and then immediately lights up again. “Someone is texting you like…a lot.”

“We’re having dinner, Iris,” he says, raising his eyes to mine with a frown.

“We’re in the middle of a pretty big moment in our lives, Christian!” I say, laughing a little at the understatement as I gesture towards the phone. “Long, indulgent, uninterrupted dinners can wait!”

Christian gives me a long, slow smirk. “So, you think we’ve got more long, indulgent dinners in our future?”

I laugh and roll my eyes, crossing my arms and declining to answer. “Just go get your phone, you idiot.”

He laughs with me and does as I say, pushing back his chair and crossing to the living room to grab his phone. To my pleasure – and a bit of surprise – he brings it back to the table with him. I sit quietly as he flicks through the messages, watching his face settle into an unhappy frown.

“What is it?” I ask, soft.

“Just…details,” he murmurs. Then he looks up at me. “Everything’s fine, though. It’s just Nico keeping me updated. He’s okay.”

“Is Frankie okay?” I ask, anxious.

Christian nods, looking back at his phone. “Yeah, no updates there. Which is good news. For now.”

Christian continues to read quietly for a long moment, a sigh sneaking out from between his lips.

“What’s going on?” I ask quietly, leaning forward, kind of trying to read the texts from Nico upside down. Because, I’ll admit it – I’m dying to know.

Christian just flicks his eyes up at me once and then returns them to his phone.

“Chris!” The word bursts from me, lined with surprise and protest. Because he’s shutting me out again.

“What?” he asks, looking up at me, not getting it.

“Why won’t you tell me!?”

“Because you don’t need to know!” he says, holding his hands out to the side like it’s obvious.

“Seriously?” I ask, crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair, slouching a little. “We’re back to this?”

Christian just lets out a long, tired sigh and sets the phone face-down on the table.