Fingers pruning, we get out of the water an hour later, walking hand in hand towards our things. I'm contented with what we did. We faced our worst nightmare- literally and we're okay. I settle down beside him, back into the positions we were in before except this time, he gestures me close with a raise of his arm.
I rest my head against his bicep, looking up at the newspaper he's reading. I scan along with him, asking him questions about stories every so often.
"I don't understand how she could even know where the dog was if she didn't do it," I murmur, chuckling as he turns the page. I double take, reaching for water as I recognize the face on the page.
Tristan sighs beside me. "It's about my father."
I gape, staring at the picture, suddenly putting it all together. "Wait- I know that man."
"Tristan, I've met him."
He looks between the paper and I, confused. "This man- you're sure? My father?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I can't believe I- I didn't put it together... He did ask a lot about my personal life... And he did show up out of nowhere..."
"Where did you meet him?"
I look up from the blanket, feeling nervous for some reason. "At the museum... The day we were meeting at my apartment for lunch- the reason I was late was because of him." I point to the picture. "He even said his name was Chris- I didn't even think about it. Your dad's name is Christopher, right?"
"What did he say to you?"
"Just asked about my life and my work. He said he was a lover of art and asked for a tour. He had helped me so I did it... He didn't even mention you."
"He was trying to find out what kind of person you were... I had told him about Casey- and you the night before."
"Why didn't he tell me? Oh God, your father. I didn't even know! What if he didn't like me?"
I groan. "What?"
"If you were your usual self, I'm sure he loved you."
Nervously, I force a nod, feeling slightly panicked as I try to think back to what I said to him. "You think so?"
He laughs, stroking my hair. "Yes. I'll talk to him on Monday about it, alright?"
The rest of our time in Miami was spent in the hotel, although that doesn't mean we slept very much.
And as Tristan helps me from the car in front of his apartment building, both our bags on his shoulder, I realize I am dead tired. I hold onto him as we ride up the elevator towards his luxurious penthouse.
When we step inside and he sets down the bags, I also realize that I hadn't thought of the fact that I'm going to work tomorrow. I'm going to have to leave in the morning for fresh clothes. He chuckles, rubbing my back as I run my hand through my hair, headed towards the bedroom.
I don't bother changing from the dress I'm wearing. I pull back the covers and get underneath them, relishing the feel of the cool material against my sunburn. As I feel the comforter rise up to my shoulders, I hum, opening my eyes.
YOU ARE READING
What do you do when disaster strikes? You survive. On the night before her entire life changes, Genevieve Harding was walking along the shoreline with a man she'd only just met. Tristan Maddox. A man who grazed the pages of the magazines and newspa...