I woke up to the sound of waves. I stretched my arms, feeling the empty space beside me.
Julian wasn't in the bed. I found him in the kitchen.
He had two mugs of coffee. His hair was still damp from a quick shower. He wore a plain black t-shirt and shorts, as if he had nowhere to be.
“You actually meant it about the walk,” I said, taking the mug he held out.
“I said I would. You looked like you were waiting for me to make an excuse.”
“I was.” I smiled.
He rested against the counter, holding his mug with both hands as we locked eyes. He didn't say a word; he just kept staring at my face.
“No excuses today. Finish that and put shoes on. Or don’t. The sand’s soft enough.”
We left the house twenty minutes later. The path down to the water was short and warm under my bare feet. The shor
