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17.

Erin

My plain black one piece had served me well for many trips abroad, but funnily enough, I’d never worn it at home. Maybe I was simply less self-conscious in foreign climes, but I never noticed quite how blatantly my nipples stuck out through the nylon fabric.

It was six-thirty in the morning, and the beach was deserted. The sun was out, and it was warm but not as hot as it would get later in the day. I sat on a towel close to the steps leading up to the hotel, waiting for Tristan to arrive. He appeared a few minutes later, coming down the steps in his wetsuit, a towel slung over his shoulder.

“You came,” he said, beaming when he saw me.

I stood, a wave of self-consciousness washing over me because this was the most naked I’d ever been around him. By the flash of heat in his gaze, I suspected he’d noticed the very same thing. I willed my nipples to quit being such bloody exhibitionists, but they were intent on rebellion. It looked like Tristan was expelling some serious willpower when his gaze remained on my face.

“I did,” I said, swallowing thickly as I stepped forward and did my best to keep my eyes level with his face, too. He wasn’t the only one who needed to call on their willpower. Tristan in his swimming gear was a sight few women could resist.

His smile was tender. “Don’t look so nervous. We’ll just do an easy swim, a few laps to get you used to it.”

He held out his hand, and his fingers interlinked with mine, his warm palm infusing me with calmness. Tristan had a patient way about him that soothed any nerves I might’ve had. It wasn’t necessarily the water that scared me. On the contrary, I was a decent swimmer. It was being alone with him that had my pulse ratcheting. The empty beach felt intimate in a way I couldn’t explain.

And always at the forefront of my mind was the decision I had to make. The choice between being with Tristan or telling him no. Spending time with him like this made me want to give him a chance, because everything about him called to me. I was under his spell.

We walked to the edge of the water, my hand still in his. The sea felt cold on my toes. We took a few steps in until we were calf deep. It wasn’t icy cold though, and the longer I spent in it, the warmer it became. All the while, I was aware of Tristan’s attention on me, watching all my reactions.

“Ready to go in a little farther?” he asked.

“Sure.”

We waded farther in, and before I knew it, I was hip deep. The smell of salt water filled my senses, bringing back old memories.

“Before he died, my dad would take me and Sloane to the beach during the summer. Usually just a day trip to Galway. We didn’t have a lot of money, so we couldn’t afford proper holidays. That’s probably why I love to travel now. I like being able to see the world.” I wasn’t sure what prompted me to share the memory, but something about being in the water with Tristan made me feel close to him. It spurred me to open up. “Me, Dad and Sloane would go swimming, then we’d build sandcastles and eat fish and chips on the way home. The smell of the sea always reminds of me of those beach days. They’re some of my happiest memories.”

Tristan’s features turned soft, his hand tightening on mine. “I’m so sorry you lost him, Erin.”

“I don’t think of it that way. I’m just glad I had him for the time that I did. He was a good father.”

“Then I’m glad, too. Come on, let’s take a little swim.”

We swam a few easy laps before Tristan guided me back to the shore. He grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my shoulders, his eyes never leaving mine as he rubbed up and down my arms to help me dry off. I imagined myself stepping into the heat of his body, going up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his, but I hadn’t made a decision yet, and that meant I couldn’t do any of that. It wouldn’t be fair to give him the wrong impression when I was still going back and forth in my head.

“I’m going to go back out and swim a little longer,” he said, his voice rough in way that made me wonder if he’d been thinking about kissing me, too. The idea sent a flutter through me.

“Okay, I’ll head up to the hotel and shower,” I said.

He opened his mouth as if to say something else but then closed it and backed away. I watched as he returned to the water, his muscular, athletic body moving beautifully through the waves. The way he’d looked at me told me his feelings were strong, and I felt guilty for still being undecided. Yes, he’d said to take my time, but it didn’t feel right to toy with his emotions like this. Spending time with him in this odd limbo wasn’t fair to either of us, but especially not to him. Gathering my things, I determined to make a decision sooner rather than later as I headed up the steps to the hotel.

On Saturday morning, I went over to my sister’s house. She’d invited me for coffee and to rifle through her wardrobe for something to wear to disco night. I was afraid my own paltry supply of jazzy blouses wasn’t going to cut it. I wanted to dress up.

No, I wanted to look good for Tristan. I’d attended countless disco nights over the years, but I’d never cared to impress anyone before.

“How have you been?” Sloane asked as she led me into her kitchen where a fresh pot of coffee and a plate of custard creams were waiting. My sister eyed me closely, and I wondered what she saw. Could she sense my stress? How busy my brain had been the last few days going back and forth about Tristan?

“I’m okay.”

“You seem frazzled.”

“I do?”

“Well,” she said as I took a seat at the table, and she lifted the pot to pour our coffees. “Your top is on inside out for a start.”

I glanced down at the old T-shirt I’d gotten on one of my trips to Spain. I’d run out of clean clothes and purchased it from a street vendor. It was supposed to read “Barcelona’” in swirly font, but I was now noticing it was indeed on inside out.