“No, no, no. Beale. Precious. That is the path. That’s my point. You’re there. Revel in it. Glory in it. This is your grand future. You told the Universe you wanted a bunch of things, and it provided a bunch of things. The future is here.”
I frowned at the water. “I don’t think it’s that easy.”
“Who decides when you’re happy enough, Beale? You do. You decide when you’re as happy as you want to be. You don’t need to have crazy ambitions if they don’t feel authentic. Most people would kill to have plenty of money and spend each day doing things that make them happy. What more could you want?”
You.
I disregarded the thought immediately, but it was so ridiculous, my rhythm was thrown off and we floundered for a second.
“Sweet mother of dragons, I thought you were kidding about the dropping thing!” Toby cried.
“I was. I had a… a cramp. Sort of. Continue what you were saying.”
“Hmph. I’m not sure if—”
“Toby.”
“Look, there’s a part of me that very much wishes I could stay here, Beale, but I can’t. For one thing, I’ve lied about my identity and our relationship to absolutely everyone on the island. It’s gonna be bad enough when I inevitably fake-break-up with you,” he said mournfully, and my heart skipped a beat. “It’ll be even worse when they learn I’m not who I said I was. Plus, I’m meant for city life. Do you know, there’s not a Neiman Marcus around here for miles? You, on the other hand… you know where you belong, and it’s here.”
“It is. The idea of even visiting a city like New York gives me hives,” I told him honestly. “There’s an energy here on the island—an interconnectedness maybe—that feels right to me. Like I’d starve without it.”
“So own it. The beauty of having lots of money is doing whatever you want, right? When you’re rich, you’re not weird, you’re eccentric. So stick to your guns. Why limit yourself? If I had millions, I’d devote myself to doing nothing but visiting luxury resorts around the world so I could rank them. I’d enjoy every single minute without a care.”
Five days ago, I might have believed that.
I stared down at his wet hair, at the smooth length of his torso glowing beneath the water, at the darker line of my tanned forearms wrapped around him as he leaned against me, and at the bracelet of colorful stones wrapped around his wrist. It loosened something in my chest to see it there.
“No, you wouldn’t.”
Toby opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Alright, no I wouldn’t.” He sounded surprised and maybe a little reluctant to admit it. “Or not just that. But I’ll tell you what I wouldn’t do: I wouldn’t spend a single second worrying about the opinion of anyone who wanted to make life decisions for me. That way lies madness.” He patted my forearm. “And both Hagatha and Toby say that, for whatever our opinions are worth.”
The vulnerability in his voice made me want to hug the crap out of him, but I could just imagine how he’d react to that—like Marjorie when she was frightened, razor claws and all.
“Toby, Hagatha is you. Honestly, anyone who’d spent a couple hours with you would spot the similarities. You have the same voice. You have the same heart. Maybe if you stopped running away from your alter ego, you’d understand what other people like so much about you. Maybe you need to own that.”
He cleared his throat. “In any case, this has been quite passably enjoyable, Goodman, but surely our swimming lesson is over now?”
“Floating’s not the same as swimming, Toby,” I warned.
“An excellent point, but I’m concerned for the state of my skin.” He held up his pruny fingers.
I almost sighed. The time limit on Toby’s patience for serious discussion seemed to have expired. But in the end, maybe that was for the best. Maybe there was something to be said for just enjoying something, especially when you knew it wouldn’t last long.
We’d drifted back to the shallow end, so Toby put his feet on the bottom and stood. “I feel like it’s only fair that I should choose our next activity.”
“You already serenaded me with Broadway’s greatest hits yesterday, and once a week is probably my limit,” I warned, though I was pretty sure I could tolerate it as many times as necessary. He was adorable when he reached for the high notes.
He mock-pouted. “I wasn’t going to sing… probably.”
“And I told you I’m not helping to make decorations for the party. My hands are too big for paper crafts.”
“Yeah, we figured that out pretty fast on Monday.” He wrinkled his nose and wrapped his arms around my neck. “Your origami stars were… unique. But there are many, many things your big hands are very good at, Beale.”
“Is that so?” I lifted one eyebrow. “Anything in particular?”
“Oh, rescuing me from murder cats. Um. Fixing murder boats. Swimming lessons—” He backed me up against the wall.
“In the murder pool?” I guessed. I spread my legs so he could fit against me better.
“Exactly.”
“I’m sensing a pattern here, Toby, and it’s concerning.”
“You’re also good at decidedly un-murder-y things. And you might recall providing me with a comprehensive list of sexual fantasies the other day. I believe a blow job was discussed, for starters.”
For starters. Yeah, I remembered that list in great detail, specifically the part that had involved me fucking him, which was something we hadn’t done yet this week. My dick started to swell despite the cool water.
“You got my attention.” I coasted a hand down over the ass of those tiny red shorts and held him in place so I could stroke myself against him. “Tell me more.”
He tugged my hair to get better access to the tendon at the side of my neck and bit down gently. “I’m more of a show-er than a tell-er, baby. Come see.” He spun away from me and headed for the stairs.
I narrowed my eyes. Up to this point, Toby had mostly directed our sexual encounters, which had been totally fine with me. More than fine. So much more than fine. His confidence and take-charge attitude had given me confidence. But today, I felt the need to remind him that I had a few tricks up my sleeve, as well, and I always tried to listen to my instincts.
I caught him when he was about to put his foot on the bottom step and lifted him from behind with one arm around his chest.
“Sweet Jesus, Beale! What the hell are you—?”
“It’s all coming back to me now.” I ran a hand from his chest to his abs, then down over the front of his bathing suit. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and bucked against my hold. “I’m remembering there was a pool-related component to the fantasy list.”
“W-we don’t have supplies,” he said weakly. “We should—”
“Take advantage of the contractors not coming until this afternoon and enjoy some more time in nature? Someone once told me you were Outdoorsy Barbie.” I delved my fingers into his bathing suit and stroked his length. “I couldn’t agree more.”
It only took a couple of strokes before his entire body melted back against me like butter in the hot sun.