Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Deal!” I reach up to press my nose against his.
He’s kidding, of course, but his words are sincere.
He’s not afraid of my success, my dreams, or the challenge that comes with piecing our lives together. We don’t need to find our purpose when we can make one from the ground up.
With laughter, tears, or just ripping out our hair, we’ll work it out. We have the rest of our lives.
“You should drink more water. No need to risk dehydration,” he tells me, already offering a bottle he’s barely taken a drink from. “The car’s coming for us soon.”
“Yes, yes, the private plane. I still can’t get used to that.”
“Honeymoon perks,” he says, amused. “How much water have you had?”
“Enough. Come along, Mr. Verity.” I grab his tie and pull him out of the room, but I don’t miss the endearing way he looks around one more time before giving in with a low chuckle.
He might act like he doesn’t feel Gramps’ ghost the way I do or that PopPop couldn’t have possibly planned this, but I know he’s just as grateful. And just as sad that he’s gone.
Sometimes in life, two things can be true.
You can make a cherished hello out of a bitter goodbye.
And we fight through the crowd one more time, making our goodbyes quick. Kit’s yawning as she tumbles along after us.
She’s out like a light before we even get to the airport.
Holden and I share a smile.
She’s coming with us on our honeymoon, of course. Thankfully the villa we found has separate rooms.
But she’s part of our lives, and I wouldn’t dream of leaving her behind. I want her to feel like she’s part of our brave new world.
“You think she’s excited?” I ask Holden, squeezing his hand.
“Give her a few hours of shut-eye. By the time we land, she’ll be dragging us to the beach.”
Laughing, we kiss again, overflowing with excitement for tomorrow, the first day of forever in our brand-new family.
We fly to an island oasis floating in the Mediterranean’s green crystal.
Crete.
After everything, it feels a bit like coming full circle. Holden and I wander through the old streets of Heraklion hand in hand, the sun beating down on our heads.
We’re all wearing very attractive, floppy sun hats and so much sunscreen I feel like a glazed ham.
Living in Maine doesn’t prepare you for this heat. We’ve barely stepped outside the resort the first afternoon and I’m dripping like a cold glass in August.
But when ancient stone columns throw down their shadows and sailboats line the horizon, it’s so worth it.
Kit sprints ahead of us, grinning at the sight of an old church on the corner. A tasteful line of hotels traces the shore.
After a life in New England, I’m no stranger to the sea. But there’s something different here, something new and fresh and warm in the air.
Kit turns back to us, wearing the biggest smile as she points down the road. “Guys, look! What are those?”
We reach the ruins and look them over.
Some of these broken remnants must be thousands of years old.
You hear about the Ancient Greeks, but it’s hard to grasp any people existing that long ago, leaving behind these grand markers.
We take our sweet time winding through the columns and faded foundations of buildings older than Portland and Boston. Holden grasps my hand the entire time.
After exploring the city, we return to the resort, thirsty and hot. But as soon as we enter the cool lobby, a man comes over.
“Are you Mrs. Blackthorn?” he asks. “Hello, I’m Georgios, the resort manager.”
“Mrs. Verity now, but close enough. Sorry, do I know you?”
“No. Please, if you’ll follow me for a moment, there’s a place I’d like you to see.” He shakes his head and gestures at the door.
We trade a glance. Holden looks just as confused as I am, and we exit back into the blinding sunshine. We trail the man from a safe distance, heading for the marina just a couple blocks away.
Beside it, a rocky beach.
We descend the steps with Kit staying a few paces behind us. Holden’s face is granite. I nudge his shoulder.
“Relax. It’s nothing crazy, I’m sure. He works for the resort.”
“Stay behind me,” he growls.
I think the only reason he allows it is because it’s a public place and there are plenty of people milling around.
The resort manager looks back at us as we trail behind him with a confused expression.
“So what’s the big surprise?” I prompt, trying not to sound nervous.
“Ah, you’ll see. We’re almost there.” He rubs his forehead, shining with sweat. You’d think the people who live here would build some kind of immunity, but it turns out nothing beats the sun and human biology.
Even so, his grin feels blinding as he leads us to the rocky beach.
“He always used to eat lunch here,” he explains, pointing to the white stone on the side of the marina. “People have come here to carve their names for the past hundred years, perhaps longer.”