I woke up to a sudden burst of bright light and someone yanking the comforter off me. My head throbbed, my mouth felt like cotton, and my eyes like they were sealed shut with glue.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart. You’ve got a flight to catch.”

I peeled my eyelids open and squinted in the bright light. Damon stood at the window, watching me with a satisfied grin on his face. I strained to see why it was so bright and realized the skies had cleared and sunshine now bounced off what looked to be a foot of snow. The blizzard.

“Head hurt?” he asked, that grin a smirk.

He walked over to me. I tried to sit up but couldn’t pull either my arms or legs free. I glanced back at myself, seeing the blankets askew, one naked leg exposed. I remembered the night before. How he’d bound me to the bed. Why he’d done it. All the things I’d said.

“Always takes a few minutes for the memories to come flooding back, doesn’t it?” He sat on the side of the bed, undoing one ankle, then the next, before hovering over my head. He waited until I looked at him before reaching down to untie my wrists. I felt heat flush my face at his knowing look.

“What time is it?”

“Seven. Get up, have a shower. I’ll pack your things.”

“Pack my things for what?” I asked, sitting up, my head feeling like a bowling ball I couldn’t carry.

“We’re going to Florida. I have meetings, and I’m not leaving you here alone. Not after last night.”

I rubbed my sore wrists. “I can’t just take off to Florida. I have a job.”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

“Damon, I can’t not show up.”

“You’ll call in sick. It’s two days.”

He got up and opened my closet, taking out a duffel bag.

“I can’t call in sick,” I said. I couldn’t. For so many reasons, the least of which was the actual job. If I didn’t show up at Club Carmen tonight, Alexi would be here to figure out why. Well, if he wasn’t on his way already after last night when I left the party before it was over. Before I was allowed. Shit. “You have to go, Damon.” I forced myself to move, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, clutching my head. I needed Advil.

“I’m going. We’re going. Together. Taxi will be here in about twenty minutes, so get up and shower.”

I walked to the bathroom to pee. For some reason, I didn’t bother closing the door. I grabbed the bottle of Advil and swallowed two with a handful of water.

“Listen.” I came back into the bedroom to find him going through my dresser drawers. “About last night, I’m sorry. I was drunk.”

Fishing out a handful of panties, he glanced at me before shoving them into the duffel. “I know you were drunk. We’ll talk all about it on the flight. Do you have a bathing suit?”

“I’m not going, Damon. I can’t.”

He stopped and looked at me. “Listen, I don’t want to be rude, but you smell like a distillery after that whiskey. It would be nice if you could shower. For me and the other passengers.”

I shook my head. “You’re unbelievable.” I turned and walked into the bathroom, the thought of Florida, of warmth and sunshine, of a few days out of Alexi Markov’s grasp, already warming me from the inside.

“We’re short on time, so make it quick.”

I stepped into the shower. Could I go? What would Alexi do? I’d call him once I got to the airport. He was going to be pissed anyway. He already was, I was sure, after last night. What could he do? Fire me? Kick me out of this apartment? Fine. Please. Set me free.

Damon walked into the bathroom, holding a pair of jeans and a sweater. “You can wear these. Let’s go.” He checked his watch.

I switched off the water, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around myself. He stood in the doorway watching me, his eyes full of me. I could see him trying to look away, trying not to see me, but he did. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he did.

“Why aren’t you gone after last night?” I asked. “After what I told you. How awful I was to you.”

He stepped up to me and brushed a strand of wet hair off my face.

“I told you I wasn’t leaving you alone to handle this. We’re going to go away, and you’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on, and we’re going to fix it. Get you out of whatever you’ve gotten yourself into. Together. I care about you, Lina. I’m not about to walk away and let you destroy yourself.”

I searched his face, his eyes. It was like we’d known each other forever. It was like no matter what, no matter how awful I was or how badly I fucked up, Damon would be there, and that was that.

“It wasn’t true,” I said. “Last night, what I said, I lied.”

“I know.”

“It’s better if you’re not involved,” I felt the heat of tears but managed to contain them.

“That’s not up to you. It never was, not since the moment I walked back into your life.”

“Damon—”

He put a finger over my lips to quiet me. I swallowed, his touch soft, leaving me wanting so much more. My chest tightened as we stood looking at each other, and I knew in that moment that I loved him. I loved Damon Amado.

And he was the one man I could never have.

But we could have this.

We could have two days, couldn’t we? It would break me, but we could have it.

To steal time. Precious time.

Could one steal time? No. It didn’t work that way. There was always a price to pay. But I would. I’d pay it.

A car honked its horn outside, and Damon dropped his arm. “That’s the taxi. Get dressed, and we’ll go. We’ll stop at the church to pick up my things. Do you need anything else?”

I glanced around. “Sunscreen?”

He smiled. “We’ll get that there.”

A few minutes later, we walked out of the apartment and into the idling taxi. When we got to the church, I waited in the cab while he went up to get his things. I dialed Alexi’s office line at Club Carmen, knowing he wouldn’t be there yet, and left a voice mail to say I’d be gone for a few days. I didn’t say more than that, knowing he’d be by to check the apartment once he got the message anyway. I hung up and switched my phone off as Damon returned, loaded a duffel bag into the trunk, and climbed back into the cab.

* * *

Damon had church business in Miami, and the hotel he’d booked was just a block from the beach. I’d never been to Florida. The warmth in contrast to the icy, wet cold of New York City felt better than I could have ever imagined it could.

When we arrived, we took a taxi to the hotel. At check-in, when the desk agent mentioned it was a room with a king-size bed, he said that was fine. I was surprised, thinking he’d ask for two doubles, since he seemed determined that nothing would happen between us. I knew he was struggling against himself, wanting it, wanting me, as much as I wanted him.

“I’ve canceled my evening meeting, so I’ll be back by three. You’ll be on your own until then.”

“That’s fine. I think I’ll lie down and take a nap. My head still hurts. Then maybe we can go to the beach together after?”

“I don’t care where we go, but we need to talk. I need you to come clean with me, Lina. That means you tell me everything.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t commit to that. It was for his own protection.

“Make sure you eat something. Just charge it to the room.”

Embarrassed, I looked away.

“And pick up sunscreen from the gift shop if you go out.”

“You know I’ve been living on my own for two years, right?”

“I know,” he said, taking some money out of his wallet and setting it on the desk. “I kind of sprung this on you, so I feel responsible.”

God. So freaking embarrassing. “Thanks.”

Our room overlooked the water. After Damon left, I decided I’d nap on the beach instead of in the hotel. I unpacked my things, put on my bikini and a sundress, grabbed a towel and my purse, and headed out. I’d relax and enjoy the next few hours and not think about anything. I’d need to face it all soon enough anyway.

After buying sunscreen, a straw hat, a pair of cheap sunglasses, and a magazine, I headed to the beach, slipping off my flip-flops as soon as my feet hit the sand, loving the feel of the warm granules between my toes, loving the heat of the sun on my shoulders. Finding a spot, I laid my towel down and stripped off my sundress, lathered myself with sunscreen, and took out my phone. I just needed to send Damon a message, telling him where I was.

I regretted it the moment I did as text messages loaded one after another on my screen. All from Alexi. Each one more pissed off than the last. I only read the ones I couldn’t clear away fast enough, ignored the rest, and sent a quick text to Damon, telling him where on the beach I was and that I was switching off my phone. I then lay back, put my hat over my face, and closed my eyes.

When I woke up, it was to the feel of someone rubbing sunscreen on my back.

Startled, I sat up to find Damon by my side, smiling.

“You were burning.”

“Oh,” I looked around, remembering where we were. “I fell asleep. What time is it?”

“Four o’clock. My meeting ran over.”

“Four? Wow. I’ve been out for hours.”

He moved behind me and began to rub my shoulders, arms, and back with sunscreen.

“How long ago did you get the tattoos?”

“I’ve been getting them over the last year and a half. It’s a process. You like them?”

“They’re very beautiful. Did it hurt much?”

“Like a motherfucker.”

He laughed. “You used to be so sweet.”

I liked his teasing. He capped the sunscreen and looked out at the sea.

“You know what I want?” I asked.

“What?”

“I want to forget everything just for the couple of days we’re here. I just want to enjoy this. Forget New York City, forget the club, forget everything for a little while.”

“We need to talk about it, Lina. You can’t put it off forever.”

“I know, and we will. Just not yet. Please.”

He looked at me like he was about to tell me no. I stood and held out my hand.

“Swim with me?”

* * *

We spent the next few hours swimming and lying in the sun. Although tentative around each other, I don’t think either of us wanted to spoil the mood between us. It was just as I’d thought. Like we’d stolen time, just a few days, and we both knew it.

After swimming, we went back to the hotel. As I climbed out of the shower, I heard Damon talking. I wrapped a towel around myself and walked out of the bathroom. He stood by the window, hand in the pocket of his pants, his hair still damp from his shower. When he heard the bathroom door open, he turned around, smiled, then put a finger to his lips. In the next sentence, I heard him say his brother’s name. He was talking to Raphael.

I tiptoed to my duffel bag and fished out the skirt and tank top he’d packed for me. When I stripped off my towel, I watched him from the corner of my eye, noticed that it took him a full minute to turn his back and continue his conversation. He wanted me, but he’d fight it. Maybe it was selfish, but I didn’t want to make it easy for him.

Once dressed, I went into the bathroom and combed out my hair. I’d dyed it darker when I’d moved to New York. I liked the near black. It set off my eyes. I’d already picked up some color from the afternoon on the beach, and the bridge of my nose was a little sunburned, but I looked healthier for it. And I felt better. I knew it wasn’t the sun’s warmth that caused the latter. It was Damon’s.

A few moments later, he hung up the phone.

“You didn’t mention me,” I said, keeping my eyes on the bathroom mirror as I combed out my hair and towel dried it.

Damon appeared behind me. “Not yet. But—”

“I know.” I turned to him. “It’s not right, and I will tell Sofia myself. Just give me Florida.”

He nodded and looked me over. I did the same. He wore a blue T-shirt and jeans, his tan even deeper since this afternoon.

“How are you more tanned than me?” He’d spent not half the time out there as I had.

He smiled “You’ll catch up tomorrow. Although”—he paused and ran a finger over my nose and cheeks—“pink becomes you.”

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and made a face. “I hope it doesn’t get gross and peel.”

“I have a feeling you’d look beautiful even shedding skin.”

I met his gaze. He held mine a moment too long and had to drag his eyes away. He cleared his throat.

“Ready?”

“Just let me get my purse.”

We walked out and grabbed a taxi. Damon had a restaurant in mind, and it took about fifteen minutes to drive there.

“This is cute.” I looked around the small village-like shopping center.

“Coconut Grove. There’s a tapas place I want to take you to. You like Spanish food, right?”

“I like all food.”

He didn’t hold my hand, but his fingers brushed my lower back as he led the way to Two To Tango, which was vibrating with life. Most of the restaurant tables were full both inside and out. People were laughing and talking, and Top 40 music played from the speakers. The hostess confirmed his reservation and walked us to one of the outdoor tables, where misters kept the patio cool. I sat down and looked around. Had he chosen the place for the food or to make sure it would be so loud and so busy that dinner wouldn’t be an intimate affair?

“Like it?”

“Love it.” But I’d have preferred to stay in the hotel room and order room service.

Damon ordered a beer, and I ordered a frozen margarita. The waitress asked for my ID. Damon gave me a look, but I opened my wallet and took out one of two driver’s licenses, the one that said I was twenty-two. She glanced at it and said she’d be right back with our drinks.

“Lina?”

I tucked it back into my wallet. “It’s not a big deal. Just a drink. It’s frozen, there’s not much alcohol in it.”

“You could get in trouble if you got caught.”

“Are you going to lecture me all night?” I asked with a smile on my face.

He acquiesced. “No.”

Neither of us spoke, reading our menus instead, and when the waitress returned with our drinks, we ordered and sat back.

“Being in New York City, has it made a difference for you? Has it solidified your position one way or another as far as the church?” I asked out of the blue. I didn’t care that this wasn’t the most private place. I had limited hours with Damon. I wasn’t about to waste them. “Do you think you’ll go back to seminary? I mean, are you happy?”

There are moments—and they’re rare—when a truth so visceral forms itself into words, and you find your voice speaking those words, and it’s like you’re hearing them for the first time yourself, even though it’s your thought, something that’s been rattling around in your subconscious forever, something that makes you incredibly uncomfortable. Those last three words—are you happy—as soon as I said them, I felt my face crumple a little and my heart sink. My eyes filled with warm tears.

I masked my emotions and forced myself to watch Damon as he considered my question. Considered my reaction to it.

“Happy is hard, Lina. I’m content with many things. Having my brother back home. Working together with him on the house. Seeing him happy with your sister. Knowing I’m going to be an uncle very soon. Those are all blessings for which I’m grateful daily. But am I happy? I guess I’d have to define happiness for myself before I can answer it.”

“It sounds like a long way around to saying no.”

“Might be.”

The waitress appeared with our food, plates and plates of tapas that she stacked on our table. My stomach growled at the sight and scent, and I picked up my fork as soon as she left. When I turned to Damon with my mouth full, I found him watching me.

“You’re very different from when I first met you four years ago.”

“I was sixteen.” I chewed. “And ignorant of so many things.” I didn’t stop chewing and quickly forked up a shrimp marinated in garlic. I’d come to terms with the oblivion I’d lived in most of my life. Understood why Sofia had kept certain things from me when Grandfather had made that arrangement giving her to Raphael as if she were a thing to be bartered and traded. That was past, and I could leave it there.

“Ignorance is underrated,” Damon said.

“I agree. It was easier then. Before.” We ate in silence for long, awkward minutes. “You never called me afterward. When I went back to Philadelphia.” I’d given him a note, telling him how much I’d enjoyed the day we’d spent together and asked him to keep in touch. I’d foolishly written down every possible way for him to do that. Thinking about my eagerness now embarrassed me.

“How could I?”

He broke off a piece of bread and handed it to me.

“You were sixteen, and I was going to become a priest. You can see how there might be a conflict. The church doesn’t need any more of that.”

I knew that. But I’d been dumbstruck by Damon. “I grew up locked away in an ivory tower. You were the first man in my life, apart from Grandfather.”

“Speaking of Marcus Guardia, what did you mean the other night? When you said there was one thing you hadn’t told anyone about your grandfather?”

His abrupt change of subject took me by surprise. I put my fork down, everything suddenly so serious. So heavy.

“Whatever it is, I promise I won’t turn you in,” he said when I couldn’t speak.

He chuckled at his own comment, but it took me a minute to understand what he meant. He was referring to my joke—that I could go to prison for tampering with evidence.

“I can’t tell you that, Damon.”

“What difference does it make?”

“Ask me something else.”

He watched my face, his expression serious, considering, perhaps deciding whether or not to pursue this.

“When are you going to tell your sister the truth about the last year?”

I hadn’t expected an easy question. There weren’t any, not really. “Once I’ve figured out how to fix things.”

“Lina—”

“Damon, I just need time. One day. Two.”

“I’m not asking about the club or what’s going on there. I’m asking about the fact you’ve left Chicago. That you’re not in the city you’re supposed to be in, not to mention school.”

I raised my hand to get the waitress’s attention. “Can we have another round of drinks, please?”

Damon sighed beside me as the waitress noted the order on her electronic pad. He reached under the table to squeeze my hand.

“And the dessert menu,” he added.

I smiled at him.

“I hear the mud pie is delicious.”

“Sure thing,” the waitress said as she cleared our dinner things.

“I’ll give you Florida,” Damon said once she’d gone.

I turned my hand around so my palm was inside his and intertwined my fingers with his. He didn’t pull away.