Page 417 of The Romance Adventure

“I couldn’t leave. I want you. Us.”

“When we left on the Big Boat, I was worried. It felt like goodbye. I tried the vacation to Barbados and the boat trip to look for the Crimson Tide. All for the treasure. What about just for us? What about the truth?”

My brow ripples with confusion. “CJ, did you hear what I said?”

“I analyzed the situation from all angles. Tried to see my role. Maybe that’s it. We’re both so used to playing a role. Different from games. This is for a purpose, protection. But what we had, I thought it would last.”

“Chip Junior McGregor. Did you get water in your ears? Did you hear what I said? I’m not going anywhere. That last mission was yours. This is the start of ours.”

He blinks a few times. “Wait. What?”

Cupping my palms around his jaw—he’s practically grown a beard—I say, “I’m not packing up my shoes. I need a new key. It’s you and me from now on.”

The biggest smile spreads across his lips. As if there aren’t words for this moment, he brings his mouth to mine.

My pulse skyrockets.

His fingers graze my arms as if he can’t believe I’m here.

I’m not because I dissolve into liquid. Into him.

His lips work magic between us.

My hands tangle in his hair.

His stubble brushes my cheeks in a way that makes my skin tingle.

Beyond the physical assurance that he’s here and okay, I try to relay the emotional relief as I pull him closer. As I pour myself into the kiss.

We give and take as we go deeper, as if trying to convey one simple truth above all the things that remain unsaid or obfuscated. I love this man with all my heart and he loves me.

When we part, I grip CJ’s forearms. “So, what happened? Is everything okay? Did you find your parents?”

He nods slowly as if the last days of travel and conflict catch up to him. “I’ll tell you every detail, but first, I need some real food.”

I offer to put together something to eat, but even though it’s the middle of the night, CJ wants a spread—among his hidden talents is that he’s an amazing chef, which only benefits me. The surfing, well, that keeps him relaxed, which is essential for work like ours.

In short order, CJ whips up a feast of American comfort food: macaroni and cheese, tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, and silver dollar pancakes. Since it’s halfway between dinner and breakfast, it makes a certain kind of sense.

After we say the blessing, it turns out I’m hungry. Starved. Though Harley said that can happen to women in my situation—along with an explanation as to why I’d been losing things like my keys, gotten sloppy with work, and my emotions have been all over the place. They said it’s normal and temporary.

CJ leans back as if he’s finally at ease, having decompressed from the voyage and rescue. He lifts his glass and says, “To my wife. I’m thankful that the way to her heart is food...and shoes.”

“Shoes are my surfing.”

He looks at me and I explain our respective methods of relaxation. “But a nice meal like this is all us.”

“I’m grateful that I get to cook for you.”

“It’s romanc-ilicious.” I kiss him on the cheek and while he’s distracted, I steal a pancake from his plate.

“Hey, hey. I was going to eat that.” He playfully tries to get it back from me.

Finally, I relent because I no longer need to win every battle.

But then CJ holds it out for me to take. “If you didn’t already know this, my weakness, in the best possible way, is you.”

I tear the pancake in half. “How’s that?”