Page 71 of Julian

I glance up at him quickly, offering a small smile. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot to take in.”

That part isn’t a lie. He studies me for a second, like he might push.

“I used to come here more,” he says casually. “Different company, different timing.”

“With dates?” I ask before I can stop myself, immediately wishing I hadn’t.

There’s a pause—not awkward, but unease creeps into me.

“Sometimes,” he says. “Not really many who mattered. But yes, I’ve had visitors… guests here.”

He glances out toward the water, then back to me. “I was… selective,” he adds, like he’s clarifying without fully opening the door. “Not just anyone.”

I can’t help that I’m slightly disappointed that I’m not the first woman he’s brought here, but I tell myself that’s ridiculous.

His mouth curves slightly. “How about you?”

“Nope, no guests to my Bahamian retreat,” I say with a smile.

“Ha-ha. You know what I mean. Do you date a lot?”

I hesitate, then shrug lightly, keeping it honest. “No one worth naming a boat after.”

He doesn’t smile at my teasing, nor does he reveal who the mysterious Kylie is. “Come on,” he says, gesturing toward the yacht. “Let me show you.”

I follow him because whatever questions are sitting beneath the surface, whatever curiosity is tugging at me… for now, I let it stay there, not fully explored.

But it remains, floating and only partly visible, just like the yacht in front of us.

Chapter 19

Julian

We’re out on the water until late afternoon. This is the Bahamas to me—salt on our skin, the sun lingering, warm on our shoulders, the waves crashing like a lullaby.

Once we’re back on dry land, Harper walks just ahead of me, barefoot, shoes dangling from her fingers, her hair loose and wind tossed. She pauses at the villa terrace, turning back toward the ocean.

“Is it always like this?” she asks.

“Like what?”

She gestures toward the horizon, the sun dipping low. “Like one long dream you never get tired of.”

“It is,” I say. “But most people stop noticing.”

Her eyes come back to me. “Have you?”

“I think I did,” I admit. “For quite a long time, actually.”

“But not anymore?”

“Now I have you pointing it out again.” And I’m so happy about that.

Inside the villa, she moves less cautiously. She experiences every little detail. Most people in my world filter everything out or fake their reactions. Harper does neither.

“You’re thinking,” she says.

“Always.”