I open my eyes to the sight of golden sunshine streaming in through the window, through the pale green privacy curtains Bruno always keeps pulled shut. They’re sheer enough to let the light in, but provide just enough coverage to be worth closing. I know for a fact there isn’t going to be anyone all the way out here watching us, but Bruno is still paranoid, understandably. He’s a dangerous man on the run, and I know there are so many different factions of equally or more dangerous men looking for him. Still, I wish he would relax a little here at the cabin.

I check my cell phone tucked under the pillow charging and see that it’s already after eleven. With a yawn, I hold my arms up over my head and stretch, reveling in the slight achiness of my body. I smile to myself, knowing exactly why I’m so sore today: last night we had some seriously acrobatic sex. Amazing acrobatic sex. Bruno bent and positioned my body in ways I didn’t even think I could manage.

I turn over in bed, instinctively reaching out for Bruno, but to my confusion, he’s not there. The spot beside me in bed is empty and cold, and my heart sinks. Despite my desire for Bruno to relax, in moments like this I can’t help but panic a little myself. I quickly sit up, holding the sheets to my neck to cover myself, and look around the room. His stuff still appears to be in the same places: his jacket hanging over the corner chair, his bag on the floor by the bathroom entrance. So he couldn’t have gone far. Unless he didn’t go willingly.

I swallow hard, feeling the hairs prick up on the back of my neck.

“Bruno?” I call out, my voice scratchy and rough as it always is first thing in the morning. There’s no reply, and my pulse quickens as I gingerly, quietly scoot out of bed and pull a robe around my body to go search for him. Just as I start to walk across the bedroom, there’s a soft thunk from the other side of the cabin and I freeze in place. Then I hear footsteps, rather heavy, like a man wearing boots. Someone is whistling cheerfully. I feel like I’m going to faint for a second, my heart is racing so quickly, but then it occurs to me that the intruder is whistling a familiar tune: Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night.” Bruno and I played that last night on the cabin’s ancient entertainment center (the thing had to have been bought in the eighties) while we cooked dinner together.

“Bruno?” I ask hopefully. The footsteps get louder as the intruder comes through the doorway and I let out a sigh of relief to see that it is, in fact, the man I love, and not some murderous hit man breaking in to kill me. Although, considering Bruno’s history, I suppose maybe I should reserve judgement on hit men from now on. He looks a good deal different from how he did when we first arrived here at the cabin a month or so ago, with his hair grown out and his beard full and bushy. He always looks so rugged and woodsy nowadays, and while it’s a much different version of him than I’m used to, I can’t say I don’t love the lumberjack look on him.

“You’re up,” Bruno says, smiling as he leans in to kiss me gently. “I thought after last night you would want to sleep in a little longer. Maybe I didn’t work you as hard as I could have,” he adds with a wink. My cheeks burn pink.

“It’s after eleven. This is sleeping in for me. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I woke up after nine. I think the sunlight woke me up. Or the birds singing outside,” I guess.

“This place really is idyllic,” he says. “Isn’t it better to wake up to the sound of birds instead of an alarm clock?”

“Oh, definitely. I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to that stupid beeping after this,” I agree. “What are you doing up so early, though?”

Bruno looks away, a small gesture that most people wouldn’t catch, but I know him better than anything. He’s big on eye contact, always holding my gaze when we speak. So whenever he averts his eyes I know something is up. I notice that he does look a little weary, a little sleep-deprived. But then he just shrugs.

“I was just setting up a couple more cameras around the premises,” he admits, taking off his coat and hanging it over the chair with his thicker jacket.

“Oh,” I say simply. Then I can’t help but step up to him and take his face in my hands, looking up into his gorgeous face. “Bruno, don’t get me wrong, I know the stakes are really high for us right now. Especially for you. And I get that you want to be cautious, but… I don’t think you need to be this paranoid.”

I feel a tiny bit hypocritical lecturing him on this directly after I mistook him for an intruder coming in to murder me, but still. It needs to be said.

Bruno smiles warmly and turns to kiss each of my hands before pulling me in for a tight hug. His beard is scratchy against my forehead and I wrinkle my nose at the ticklish feeling.

“I will try my best to relax,” he promises. “I just want to be as sure as possible that we’re safe here. I could never forgive myself if you got hurt just because you’re with me.”

“I don’t even remember you buying extra cameras,” I laugh. “When did you do that? The last time we were in Ithaca—”

“You went to the frozen foods section and I just took a little meander through the electronics department,” he answers, a little sheepishly.

“Damn. You’re sneaky,” I remark, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs. “Well, considering the profession I’ve worked for the better part of a decade, that really shouldn’t be much of a surprise.”

“Speaking of surprises,” I begin, “you did kinda scare me this morning when I woke up and you weren’t here. I know I just got finished telling you to relax, but I was a little worried. I think we could all do with fewer surprises around here, don’t you think?”

Bruno kisses my forehead, a mischievous light in his eyes. “Well, how about just one more surprise? It’s a good one, I swear.”

“Uh, okay. What is it?” I ask, taken aback.

“Get dressed and I’ll show you. It’s outside.”

I quickly put on jeans, a thick sweater, a coat, and my well-worn boots. Bruno puts his jacket on and leads me out of the house into the brisk December air. The sun shines down, warming us even as the breeze makes me shiver. I’m not as accustomed to upstate New York winters, having only ever visited here during the warm summer months. The other day we actually had a flurry of snow, which was beautiful to watch from the warmth of the cabin.

“Where are you taking me?” I pipe up, crunching through the dead leaves on the ground.

“Just down the hill toward the pond.”

We walk for several minutes until we arrive at the squelchy, muddy bank of the pond and Bruno tells me to close my eyes. I oblige, standing there feeling a little bit foolish until he announces that I can look. I open my eyes and see him beaming at me, standing next to what looks to be a hand-built two-person canoe.

“What is that?” I ask, grinning.

“It’s a canoe, obviously,” he replies, gesturing to it. “Can’t you tell what it is?”

I detect just the slightest note of concern in his voice, like he’s second-guessing his ability to make an instantly recognizable boat-like structure, and I burst out laughing. “Yes, yes, I can tell it’s a boat. I just mean, where did it come from?”

“I built it myself. For you. Well, and for me. Two people can ride in it.”

“Again, when did you find the time to do this?” I inquire incredulously.

“Here and there. Mostly while you were cooking meals or taking naps. You know, for such an ambitious, detail-oriented woman, you are shockingly unobservant sometimes,” he chuckles.

“This is amazing, Bruno. Seriously, I can’t believe you just happen to know how to build a boat. Are you sure it’s sea-worthy? Well, pond-worthy?” I ask, biting my lip.

“I’m sure. I am a carpenter, after all. I’ve been itching to try a project like this for a long time. And if it makes you feel any better, I did read about a hundred articles on how to build the perfect boat. So I have the great experts of the internet to back me up,” he jokes. “So, how about it? Want to take this baby for a ride? Don’t worry, I only bought one set of oars because I’m going to do all the work.”

I hesitate, looking nervously at the little boat. It’s not that I don’t trust Bruno’s craftsmanship, I’ve just always been kind of wary of large bodies of water. I mean, I have spent most of my life living in New York City. It’s not like I’ve encountered all that many opportunities to ride in a boat. Even when I used to go swimming and fishing with my dad here growing up, it would always take about half an hour of coaxing and reassurance before I would get over my fear. And that was with a professionally-made fiberglass boat rental, not a little wooden canoe made by an admittedly talented guy who usually builds house frames, not boats.

“Come on, I even packed us a picnic,” Bruno urges me, pointing to a little woven basket sitting at one end of the boat.

“This is so cute,” I laugh. “You’re so prepared.”

“Always,” he says, grinning. “I promise it’ll be fine. I won’t let you fall out of the boat or anything. I’ve got you.”

“I know you do,” I tell him, nodding. I heave a sigh. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it. But only because you worked your ass off to make this beautiful little boat. Plus, I’m starving.”

Bruno helps me settle into one end of the canoe, then takes the oars and pushes us off from the shore, sitting at the other end of the boat. I can feel my stomach turning a little as I look back and see the banks of the pond drifting back away from us as we move out into the open water. It’s a small enough pond that you can see shore from all points, but just big enough to be passable for fishing and swimming.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Bruno asks. I giggle.

“Just remembering how my mom used to get so angry when Dad and I came back to the cabin dripping wet and muddy after hanging out at the pond all day. She’s always been such a clean freak, but back in the city we had a maid when I was growing up. Here at the cabin she had to do her own cleaning, though, and we definitely didn’t make it any easier on her,” I explain.

“A maid?” Bruno repeats incredulously, raising his eyebrows. I nod, blushing.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. It’s embarrassing now. My mom didn’t have a job or anything except for occasionally checking in at Bathing Beauty, but she still refused to do housework or cooking most of the time. It’s how she grew up. The Gasparis always had house staff, too, so I guess she just never learned to do any of that stuff on her own,” I go on, shrugging.

“Wow. Your childhood and mine couldn’t have possibly been more different,” he says.

Shivering in the cold air combined with wind across the water, I answer, “I know. So weird that fate brought us together from such different worlds.”

“Are you cold?” he asks. I nod.

“A little bit. I should’ve put on leggings under these jeans.”

Bruno opens the picnic basket and hands me a bottle of Campari. “This will help you warm up, if you’re interested. I swear there’s actual food in there, too.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s five o’clock somewhere,” I say, gladly taking a swig of the bottle and blanching a little at the bitterness. “And what about you? Are you going to drink and row? What if some pond cop pulls you over?”

Bruno laughs. “I’m not too worried about that. Besides, I know how to hold my booze.”

I take out the neat little prosciutto-and-mozzarella sandwiches and freshly-chopped pineapple out of the basket, distributing the food between us. Bruno stops rowing, letting the boat float freely out in the middle of the pond while we have our little picnic. We laugh and joke about our respective childhoods, sharing memories, learning more and more about each other. I want to know everything there is to know about Bruno: the good, the bad, and the dangerous. Even the ugly parts are beautiful, all part of the magnificent package that is the man I love.

Out here on the pond, surrounded by the stillness and silence of open water, Bruno looks so happy. Those teeny-tiny little crinkles at the corners of his eyes appear when he laughs, when he smiles big. The cool air has whipped his face, making his cheeks ruddy and his hair ruffled. I can see that this is what he needs: a quiet place to unravel and forget about the horrors of his former life as a hitman and his current life as a fugitive. Underneath those awful labels, he’s just a handsome man with a huge heart, the carpenter from southern Italy who came to this country to find a better, safer way to live.

I want to give him everything, fulfill that hope he had coming here.

As much as I try to get him to talk about his past, he still manages to steer the conversation back to me. As always. “So, Bathing Beauty. What are we going to do about it?” he asks.

“I’ve been thinking over it, trying to figure out how to keep it afloat with this massive setback. I need to get those cops off my back and reopen. I won’t just roll over and let them take everything from me,” I say vehemently, feeling warm and buzzed from the Campari.

“Well, I’ll fight with you, tooth and nail. We’re going to get the shop back open and running, I promise. I don’t know how, but we’ll make it happen,” Bruno promises.

“Sometimes I just look around this place and wonder what it would be like if I had a different life. Somewhere far away from the hectic environment of the city. It gets so tiring, fighting off attacks from every angle. I wonder if any of the towns outside of the forest here would welcome a shop like Bathing Beauty. Artisan goods. Humble craftsmanship,” I muse aloud. “And not too far from a city, with Ithaca just an hour down the road.”

“You really love this place, don’t you?” Bruno says. “I would’ve assumed you were the never-leave-the-city type back when we first met.”

“Oh, back then I was just doing what all my high-society friends were doing. They were all obsessed with city life and looked down on anyone who didn’t live in the five boroughs. Hell, when one of my friends moved to Staten Island, even that wasn’t good enough. So I guess it had to be one of the four boroughs. Competition was steep and everybody was so neurotic and over-concerned with what everybody else was doing and thinking. My mom got caught up in that kind of style, always pushing for the next big status symbol. It’s a vicious cycle,” I explain.

“We are having a good time out here in the middle of nowhere,” Bruno agrees. Then, he adds wryly, “Way more fun than you would expect from two people hiding from the authorities.”

I grin.

“Yeah, I mean, under normal circumstances this would be hell. But anything with you is heaven. I can’t imagine being anywhere else, even with all the trouble following us.”

Bruno leans forward and kisses me, and I can taste Campari on his lips. The kiss deepens as his hands move down my body, sliding down to cup my breasts through the thick fabric of my sweater. I can feel my body responding warmly to his touch, the thrill of a buzz heightening all my senses. Bruno gazes into my eyes, something like fire flickering in his eyes.

“What do you say we bring this boat to shore?” he murmurs, and I think I know exactly what he’s getting at. I nod, biting my lip.

“Yes, please.”

Bruno’s powerful arms get to work, rowing us to the muddy banks off to one side of the pond quickly. He helps me out and carries me across the shore to the dry earth, leaves crunching under his boots. He sets me down and we kiss, his arms folding around me. Just as I’m melting into his embrace, we hear the distinctive sound of a twig snapping somewhere nearby. We break apart and freeze, both of us glancing around nervously.

Suddenly we hear a man’s voice.

“Hey, you there.”

A man dressed in what looks like a forest ranger’s uniform comes out of the woods holding a clipboard and walking stick. He’s an older guy, probably in his fifties, and he has a very suspicious look on his face. My heart races. I never expected to run into someone way out here. The cabin, the pond... it all feels so isolated, but I guess not!

“You kids doin’ okay out here? Pretty far off the trail,” the ranger says.

Bruno smiles, jumping into character. “Yeah, just doing a little exploring.”

“That your boat?” the ranger asks, pointing to the canoe.

“Yes, sir. We’ve been itching to take it out for a spin,” Bruno explains.

“It’s a little cold out, but the sun is shining so we thought today would be a good opportunity to hit the water before the snow starts up again,” I pipe up.

The ranger nods and smiles. “No worries. Just be careful out here, alright? Cell service isn’t so good in the forest and I wouldn’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

“We’ll be careful. Good to meet you,” Bruno says. The ranger tips his hat and carries on his way, leaving us standing there silently. Once the ranger is out of sight, I look up at Bruno worriedly and he gives me a light squeeze.

“We’ll be okay. But that was a close one,” he whispers, but his face says everything his words don’t: we need to leave. Soon.