Special Chapter

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Two Years Later

Kennedy

I never would have thought a place could bring me such peace.

But, the sun beating down and the heat of it settling like a warm blanket on my skin, the wet fabric of my bikini sticking to my body, the softness of the breeze as it moves past me just enough to make me close my eyes and tilt my head back, the brilliant stretch of blue sea that fades into the horizon, and the sand warming my feet and clumping between my toes—it all brings me a calmness that makes me forget everything outside this moment.

Planning holidays is not my thing. That's Reed's department. He's got this innate ability to map out the perfect trip, right down to the smallest details—I swear the man could plan a nap and I'd be the most luxurious and romantic one you've ever taken. So, I let him take the reins every time.

He always asks me what I'm in the mood for, and this year I told him whatever he wanted as long as it involved a beach. I have loved the ocean since the very first time I stepped foot on the beach a few years ago with him by my side, having a quiet and unspoken kind of connection. And Reed, he just wanted something easy for the summer. His football season has been brutal, leaving him physically drained and mentally exhausted, and most of all my patients' cases have left me aching.

So, relaxing has been at the top of both our lists.

That's how we ended up here—in Sicily. The first stop of our month-long tour around Europe Islands. We've already been here one week, and I'm already enchanted by this place. There's a rhythm here that makes everything slow down, leaves you feeling like it's a dream you don't want to wake up from.

I'm lost in thought, the lapping waves and the smell of salt wrapping me up in a peaceful haze when the bartender's voice pulls me back to the present.

—  "What flavor would you like for the margaritas, bella?" his Italian accent lingers over the words, honeyed and smooth.

I blink, offering him a quick smile as I reply, "Mango. And the other one Cranberry Pomegranate, please".

His lips curve into a grin as he nods and sets about making the drinks, moving with a certain practiced charm, his gaze lingering on me just a little longer than necessary. I don't give it much thought—he's probably like this with everyone.

I tap my foot against the sand along the beat of 'I Know You Want Me' from Pitbull, blasting by the speakers of the outside beach bar.

I like Pitbull's music, he's fun. Reed made me listen to various of his songs some time ago and got to enjoy them a little too much. Now he's in my Spotify playlist and I listen to them during my morning walks back at home in Boston.

My thoughts get caught in how much fun I'm having at this moment of my life. We arrived with Reed at 9am and instantly jumped into the water. It was divine, warm and clear, each ripple embracing me as Reed and I floated lazily — or well, him carrying me in his arms most of the time because although he's reassured me there's no sharks in the Mediterranean Sea, I'm still very much terrified one will jump on us and make us his dinner — the sun casting golden kiss on our skin. We had focaccia sandwiches for lunch—simple, and perfectly delicious.

And now Reed's lying out on a sun lounger, fast asleep and soaking up the sun, while I grab us some drinks.

— "You're here on vacation?" the bartender asks, his voice pulling me back again. He flashes me another smile, his eyes sparkling. "La Sicilia is beautiful, no? Perfect place to...relax. Maybe I could show you some hidden spots later?".

His tone is friendly, but there's something more in his gaze now, something that makes me a little uncomfortable.

I nod politely, "Yes, it's stunning. We're really enjoying our time here," I answer, but as he continues to smile and his eyes dip a little too obviously down to my bikini top, I shift uneasily. His stare lingers, and when he licks his lips, I start to feel my skin prickle with discomfort.

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