He grins back at me. For the first time in hours, I can clearly make out his chiseled features in the flickering light. The view lifts my spiritsimmediately.
“Each one burns for about thirty minutes, if I remember correctly. And considering I invested in the jumbo pack…” I look down at the container. There are at least a hundred crayons of all shades stacked in neat rows. “We should be good for awhile.”
We grab a few more and position them strategically around the space, until there’s enough light to see by. I can’t stop smiling as I watch the tiny lights burning merrily. It’s true what they say — everything really is more romantic bycandlelight.
Even acave.
“Where’d you learn that trick?” Beck asks, sprawling against the flattest wall with his feet outstretched. “Summers at sailingcamp?”
My head shakes as sudden sadness flares through me. “My mom taught me,actually.”
“You missher.”
“I do.” The lump in my throat makes it difficult to breathe. “She’s — she was — my bestfriend.”
“She stillis.”
I settle against his side, craving heat and contact. My head hits his shoulder as his arm slides around mywaist.
“Past tense feels appropriate,” I say, when I’ve found the strength to keep my voice somewhat steady. “She thinks I’mdead.”
“You don’t know that forsure.”
“Maybe.” I sigh and close my eyes. “But I just feel so guilty. She must be going through hell, backhome.”
“That, I can believe.” His head comes down to rest against mine. “If I lost you, I’d be in hell too. You may not know this about yourself, Violet Anderson, but you’re not the kind of person people simply move on from. You’re rather…unforgettable.”
We’re silent for a long stretch, just watching the flames dance. They cast strange shadows on the cave walls all around us as the rain patters on overhead, a muted staccato. If I believed in ghosts, this is exactly the kind of place they’d dwell. Ancient spirits at the edge of the world, in a place untouched by humanhands.
Untilours.
“Do you ever think about what would happen if we actually made it home?” I breathe, half-afraid to ask the question aloud. It feels safer, here in this place of shadows and secrets, to voice the deepest fears of my heart. The ones that whisper things I don’t want to hear late at night, about ex-wives and age gaps and societal norms. The ones I push away with every ounce of strength I possess, refusing to accept any other ending than one in which Beck and I end uptogether.
At my question, he tenses almost imperceptibly — just the slightest stiffening of his muscles before he regains control. If I wasn’t so attuned to his every detail, I wouldn’t notice it at all. His voice betrays none of his innerturmoil.
“No. I don’t think aboutit.”
He volunteers nothing more than that… but I knowhim.
I know how his mind works, how his heart beats. I know the sound of his sighs and the break in his laugh. I know him like the breath in my lungs, the blood in my veins. And so I know… I am not the only one who wonders, in the small hours of the night, whether there is any world outside the one we have built from scratch on this island in which a future for us exists. I know I am not the only one who questions if the salvation we’ve been praying for these days and weeks and months will ultimately be ourundoing.
His lips hit my forehead. Not kissing, just breathing. He does that often — breathes me in, as if he might pull me into his lungs and hold me there, beside his heart,forever.
“Me neither,” I lie, feeling my eyes prick with unshedtears.
No past. Nofuture.
Only now. Onlyus.
I slide my palm against his and knit our fingerstogether.
We are here. We are happy. That’s all thatmatters.
Moving in slow motion, I slide my leg across his body and shift onto his lap. He makes a small sound as his hands find my hips, tugging me closer. Face to face, my arms draping around his neck, I stare into his eyes in the mellow light. He’s so gorgeous, sometimes just looking at him too closely takes my breathaway.
Arching my neck, I lean in and kiss the scar that bisects his left eyebrow. My mouth lingers for a moment before moving to the bridge of his nose, across the sharp slope of his cheekbones, down the firm line of hisjaw.
I take my time. Kissing, tasting,teasing.