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I tap the contacts icon and pull up his name. My thumb hovers over the message button. It's only three little taps, but it's such a big step.
Then I press it.
Me: Hi.
A couple of minutes go by, and I start to wonder if I'm making a mistake when my phone pings.
Derrick: Angel?
I almost smile.
Me: Yeah. It's me.
Derrick: Are you ready to come home?
It's a simple question, but one that holds so much weight.
Dad's house has become a prison for the last week, and all I've wanted was to go back to the house on the hill—to be with Derrick again. But I needed some space, some time to process everything. Now, I know the truth.
Me: Yes.
The response is immediate, and I can't help but laugh.
Derrick: First we need to talk. Meet me on the beach across from Sage and Salt tonight at 8pm.
I'm not going to lie; it stings that he's not coming to pick me up, but I guess I should have expected that.
Me: Okay. See you then.
I know I need to apologize to him as well. He was wrong for keeping things from me, but I didn't make it easy for him, bolting the second I discovered who he truly was.
I'm not a materialistic person, and I don't care who he is now or who he was before he came to Cape May. All I care about now is if Derrick Anders wants to try again with me, to let me be his—mind, body, and soul.
With our plans set, I go and grab a shower. Tonight, I'm going to wear something special, something to show Derrick how serious I am.
And after tonight, if things go the way I want them to, we'll be going home.
Hours later, I walk along the beach, and it's exactly 8:00 PM on the dot.
The sun is starting to set, and the temperature is dropping. I'm wearing a form-fitting black dress, rubbing my bare arms to stay warm. My heels keep getting caught in the sand, so I stop and slip them off, carrying them in one hand as I continue.
So much for dressing to impress. Oh well, I can be cold and sexy at the same time, if that’s what it takes.
Derrick is waiting for me in a circle of lit candles flickering in the wind, and he looks every bit the wealthy, powerful business tycoon. The fabric of his suit looks expensive, and his watch probably costs more than what my father—for all his modest wealth—makes in a year. His dark hair is styled to the side, and his deep brown, brooding eyes are watching me intently.
He comes forward as I get closer, and when I'm only a few feet away, he takes off his suit jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I can't help the giggle that escapes.
"Thanks. Sorry, it's a little chilly and I didn’t think this outfit through.”
The corner of Derrick's mouth lifts, and his eyes fill with so much warmth and affection that my heart flutters in my chest. "You look beautiful."
"I wanted to look nice," I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Alina, you look good in sweatpants, jeans, and a T-shirt. Or nothing at all. You don't have to dress up for me. You're always beautiful, and I love you."
My heart stops, and my breath hitches. Did I hear him right? Did he just say he loved me?
"Derrick," I whisper. "I..."
