Chapter 9

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"It's your wedding night?" Derry took a step back.

Sadie looked at him and the world spun. "I think I'm going to be sick."

In an instant, he whisked her from the bar. He half carried, half dragged her down the beach and into the trees where she wished she could drain her body of the noxious fluids her defeated heart and mind had pumped in.

But nothing happened. She waited on her hands and knees, willing the world to stop moving and wishing she could dig a hole in the sand and stick her head in it.

"I'm sorry." She spoke in whispers, but the hand rubbing her back told her he had heard.

"You okay to move?"

Sadie took stock. The moment of vertigo had abated and her stomach felt better, and luckily her insides appeared committed to remaining where they were. "Yeah, I think so."

Derry helped her up and guided her out of the trees. At the bar, he grabbed two bottles of water and tucked them under his arm. They walked toward the beach and sat on the white sand. He passed her the water.

"Thanks." Sadie turned the cap on the bottle and swallowed the cool water. She leaned into him and prepared herself. "Am I going to get a lecture for drinking on an empty stomach?"

He looked at her. His hand reached up to tuck a bit of her hair behind her ear. "No, believe it or not, I find myself at a loss for words."
"You?" Disbelief made her turn to look at him.

"You told me you got married tonight."

Sadie laughed. Suddenly all of it was hysterical - the phone call, her realization of what tonight would've been, her feeble attempt at drunken coping, all of it. One hundred percent ridiculous. She couldn't stop giggling and fell back on the sand, tears falling down the sides of her face.

Her laughter mixed with sobs and she gasped for air. Nothing would enter her lungs. Panic rose in her as she hyperventilated.

"Lucy, it's okay. Breathe, just breathe. I'm here. I won't leave you. Breathe." Derry rested his elbows on either side of her. He caressed her face and hair with his hands, while his words touched her soul.

She focused on him, on his calm voice and compassionate eyes, how his hair fell down into them, and matched his slow inhalations. Her breathing returned to normal. She closed her eyes and took two deep breaths, the feel of his fingers through her hair and thumbs against her cheek soothing her. Then she felt a soft touch on her lips and her eyes popped open.

Derry leaned over her with his arms framing her body. She knew he'd move if she tried to get up, he wasn't pinning her down. As always from the moment they'd met, she felt safe.

"You okay?" His whisper fell as soft on her skin as his kiss.

"Do you know you ask me that a lot?"

"Do you know you never honestly answer?"

"Yeah, I know. When you've been asked a thousand times, you get tired of lying. And no one wants a straight answer anyway."

"I do."

She looked into his blue eyes and noticed a speck of brown in the top of the left one. He deserved the truth. "Despite my recent display of drunken lunacy, I feel more okay, than I have in months."

His eyes bore into her and she tried to keep a blank expression on her face as she felt her pulse quicken. He traced her face one more time with the back of his hand. Her skin tingled at his touch. Then he pulled away and sat up.

"You made me nervous there for a moment." He brushed the sand off his elbows.

"Sorry." His abrupt change in position surprised her and she missed the warmth and comfort of his body. "I bet you would like an explanation."

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