The Doctor And The Don

Falling Anyway

Two weeks after that dinner, Marco took me to the beach at an hour when no one else was there, just before sunrise, the sand still cool under my feet.

“You do this often?” I asked. “Sneak women out to watch the sunrise?”

“Never,” he said, and something in his voice told me it was true. “I do not usually have time to notice sunrises.”

“But you noticed this one.”

“I noticed you would like it.”

We sat in comfortable silence as the sky changed color, and I felt something settle in my chest that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the strange, complicated comfort of being near him.

“Can I ask you something?” I said eventually.

“Always.”

“Are you happy? With this life?”

He considered the question seriously, the way he considered everything. “I used to think happiness was not part of the deal. That running this family meant giving up the right to want anything simple.” He turned to look at me, something raw in his expression. “Lately, I am starting to think I was wrong about that.”

My heart did something complicated and entirely unwise. Before I could stop myself, I leaned in, and he met me halfway, his hand coming up to cradle my jaw with a gentleness that did not match a single thing I had heard about who he was supposed to be.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, the kind that felt earned rather than rushed, months of tension finally finding somewhere to go. When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, both of us slightly breathless.

“I have wanted to do that since the night you told me my confidence issues needed addressing,” he admitted.

“That was the first night we met.”

“I am aware.”

I laughed, the sound surprising even me, and for one perfect moment, standing on an empty beach with the sun coming up, none of the danger or the mystery or the unanswered questions mattered at all.