Page 120 of Only Be Mine

The crowd gathered again beneath the lights as we made our way out, the band striking up one last song as guests cheered and waved.

Outside, another limo waited, sleek and dark this time, the engine already running.

Trevor held the door open, his hand firm at my back as I stepped inside.

The door shut.

The noise faded.

And just like that, the night, and the day, fell away behind us.

Chapter 42

Cate

Present

The air felt different the moment we stepped outside the airport in St. Lucia.

Warmer. Thicker. Heavy with salt and flowers I didn’t recognize. It wrapped around me like it had been waiting.

Trevor reached for my hand as we walked toward the car, his thumb brushing slow, absent circles over my knuckles.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded, surprised to find it was true. “Yeah. I think I really am.”

The drive to the resort wound through green hills and open sky, the road curving lazily as if it had nowhere important to be. Palm trees blurred past the windows. Small houses painted bright colors sat tucked into the hillsides. None of it meant anything to me, and for once, that felt like a gift.

When we reached the resort, everything slowed.

White stone paths. Open-air halls. The distant rush of water somewhere below us. Our room overlooked the ocean, the Pitons rising dark and solid in the distance like they’d been there forever.

Trevor dropped our bags just inside the door and crossed the room without a word. He cupped my face gently, thumbs brushing beneath my eyes.

“We’re here,” he said softly.

Something in my chest loosened, a tight knot I hadn’t realized I was still carrying.

That night, we ordered room service and ate barefoot on the balcony. The air was warm, the ocean a low, steady presence below us. Trevor kicked his shoes off and stretched his legs out, grinning when I laughed at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Married men are allowed to look ridiculous on their honeymoon.”

I shook my head, smiling as I leaned into his side.

He talked about nothing important - stories from work, plans for the future, the house he wanted to buy someday. I listened, tracing idle patterns on his arm, letting the sound of his voice replace the noise in my head.

That night, the ocean whispered just beyond the balcony doors, steady and patient.

Trevor moved closer to me without rushing, his hand warm at my waist, his touch familiar in a way that felt earned instead of assumed. He kissed me slowly, without urgency or expectation, like he was giving me time to meet him there.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he murmured against my mouth. “Just be with me.”

So I was.