Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Harper

I stared at the giant box.

Then at Damian. Then back at the box.

Neither of us moved. The card remained in my hand.

BABY SHOWER GIFT.

Three words. Three ridiculous words. Three words that apparently refused to leave us alone.

Damian rubbed his forehead. “I officially hate whoever keeps doing this.”

I nodded. “Same.”

For a moment we simply stood there. Then he pointed at the box.

“Open it.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re braver.”

I looked at him. “The billionaire is afraid of a gift box?”

“The billionaire is cautious.”

I laughed. The serious expression on his face made it even funnier.

Eventually I walked forward. Carefully. Suspiciously. Like the box might explode.

Damian followed immediately. Close enough to catch me if necessary.

The thought made me smile. Always protective. Always watching. Always there.

I opened the lid.

Silence followed. Then more silence.

Then I started laughing.

Inside sat dozens of baby items. Tiny shoes. Tiny blankets. Tiny toys. Everything was pink. Everything.

Damian looked horrified. The sight nearly killed me.

“Oh my God.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“It absolutely is.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is.”

His expression somehow became even darker. I laughed harder.

Eventually he gave up. A reluctant smile appeared. Then another.

Until finally he was laughing too.

The sound filled the villa. Warm. Happy. Carefree.

For the first time in a long while, everything felt normal. Ridiculous. But normal.

I picked up a tiny pair of shoes. They were impossibly small.

“Cute.”

Damian immediately took them from me. “No.”

“What?”

“No baby shoes.”

I laughed. “You look traumatized.”

“I am traumatized.”

The answer came so quickly that I nearly dropped the shoes. The man was impossible. Completely impossible.

And I loved him anyway.

The realization no longer scared me. Not even a little.

Later that afternoon we carried the box into storage. Far away from us. Far away from our vacation. Far away from conversations neither of us was ready to have.

Afterward we changed into comfortable clothes and headed toward the beach.

The weather was perfect. Warm sunlight. Blue sky. Soft waves. Everything looked beautiful.

We walked side by side along the shoreline. My hand slipped into Damian’s naturally. Without thought. Without hesitation.

Neither of us commented on it. Because lately it happened all the time.

Marriage had become easy. Unexpectedly easy.

I looked at him. “What are you thinking?”

He glanced down. “You.”

Heat immediately rushed into my cheeks. “That’s a terrible answer.”

“It’s the truth.”

“You flirt too much.”

“You like it.”

Unfortunately. I did. Very much.

The annoying man knew it too.

We continued walking.

A group of tourists passed us. One older woman smiled brightly.

“What a lovely couple.”

I smiled politely. “Thank you.”

The woman pointed at Damian. “He looks at you like you’re the only person in the world.”

My heart nearly stopped.

The woman continued walking before either of us could respond.

Silence followed. Dangerous silence.

I stared straight ahead. The ocean suddenly became fascinating. Very fascinating.

Beside me, Damian looked suspiciously pleased.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

His smile widened. Far too much.

That evening we returned to the villa exhausted. Happy. Relaxed.

The kind of relaxed that only comes from spending an entire day doing absolutely nothing important.

I could get used to this. Dangerously easily.

After dinner we sat outside again. The ocean stretched endlessly before us. Moonlight danced across the water.

A comfortable silence settled between us.

Then Damian suddenly stood. I looked up.

“What are you doing?”

“Wait here.”

That was never a reassuring sentence.

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

He disappeared inside. A few minutes later he returned carrying something.

My eyebrows lifted. A bottle of wine. Two glasses. And a small speaker.

The sight made me laugh. “What is this?”

“My attempt at being romantic.”

I nearly choked. Damian Blackwood. Trying to be romantic. The concept alone was incredible.

He poured the wine. Then offered me a hand.

I looked at it. Then at him.

“What now?”

“Dance with me.”

My heart instantly betrayed me. Again. Honestly, it needed better hobbies.

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“There’s no dance floor.”

“There doesn’t need to be.”

I stared at him. Then slowly accepted his hand.

A victorious smile appeared immediately. I should have known.

Soft music filled the air. The waves created a quiet rhythm beneath it.

And somehow we found ourselves dancing beneath the stars. Slowly. Comfortably. Together.

My arms rested around his neck. His hands settled at my waist.

Neither of us spoke for a while. Words weren’t necessary. The moment said enough.

Eventually I looked up. Damian was already watching me. The way he always did. Like I mattered. Like I was important. Like I belonged.

The realization made my chest ache.

“You know something?”

He smiled. “What?”

“This vacation changed everything.”

His expression softened. “I know.”

I swallowed. Then smiled.

“No more fake marriage.”

The words hung between us. Important. Real. Final.

Damian didn’t hesitate. “Good.”

My heartbeat accelerated. “Good?”

“Very good.”

I laughed softly. Then rested my forehead against his chest.

For the first time since this marriage began, everything felt clear. Simple. Certain.

I loved my husband. And he loved me.

Nothing else mattered.

For one perfect moment the world felt absolutely right.

Then Damian suddenly became very still.

The change was immediate. Instant.

I pulled back. “What happened?”

He wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was staring past my shoulder. Toward the beach.

My stomach tightened.

Slowly I turned around. And froze.