The following morning, Rys left for a meeting, and I settled at the kitchen island to draw. Although I reached for the eraser more times than the pencil over the first hour, by the time afternoon came, the images of necklaces, earrings, and bracelets had become rough sketches. Seeing designs come to life on my sketchbook pages line by unsure line was liberating. It was easy to forget creativity was why I chose design when creative projects were a relatively small part of my degree.

Late afternoon sun bathed the room in a golden glow. I set a black pencil aside and held the sketchbook at an arm's length, admiring the sleek, masculine design — strips of supple black leather accented with some stitching, and an easy-to-use stainless steel clasp that wouldn't detract from the overall design.

The click of the front door had me hastily turning the page and leaving the drawing on the island. Seconds later, Rys strolled into the kitchen, carrying two grocery bags. My eyes soaked in his suit-clad figure, and a small, although somewhat tense, smile ruffled his lips.

"I see the day was productive," he said, leaving the groceries on the countertop.

I tapped a pencil on the page. "Can't complain. How was the meeting?"

Rys shrugged off his suit jacket and left it on the back of a stool beside me.

"Good." He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. "The operations and management team of the new hotel is reliable enough for me not to worry."

I tipped my head back to get a look at his face. "But something has you worried."

Rys pressed his lips to mine. "Sometimes I forget how well you can read me. Let me change, and I'll be back. If you remember, I'm making dinner tonight."

"I wouldn't forget," I said, watching him stroll out of the room. Taking advantage of Rys's absence, I collected the pencils, put them back in their case, and flipped through the eight designs. Even though only three were detailed and ready to make, the rest wouldn't take long to complete.

"Want to show me what you drew?" Rys walked over and rested his palms on my shoulders. He moved his thumbs in circles over the strained muscles, and a moan slipped from my lips.

"They're not done yet. But I can show you the ones that are."

Except for the masculine design I didn't want him to see ahead of time.

He kissed my neck. "Please."

"Okay." I opened the sketchbook on the first page. "These are quartz earrings and a matching bracelet. I'll use the stones you gave me. And here," my fingers lingered on the next drawing, "we have this twisted turquoise necklace. Kaia loved a similar design, but I think this one will stand out more. The rest aren't done yet, and I'd rather you saw them in color."

"They're perfect." Rys skimmed his thumb over my cheek and gave me another kiss. "Never doubt yourself again."

"I'll try not to. What happened to you? You looked tense when you got back."

With a long exhalation, Rys left my side and ambled to the counter. He peeked into the bag and pulled out what looked like ground beef. "I'll make spaghetti bolognese if that's okay with you."

"Anything you cook will be."

Rys kept unloading groceries, his features drawn up tight. "Nothing happened to me, but my father received an anonymous threat. It's never happened in the over thirty years he's had his business, and I'm concerned."

I slid off the stool and stepped toward him, rounding the island. "A threat?"

"Yeah."

"What do they want?"

"Nothing specific." Rys grabbed a wooden cutting board and a knife. "And that's what worries me because it means they could send another letter with more demands. My guess is, our latest acquisition made someone jealous, and they're hoping to make my father abandon the project."

"Would he?"

Rys took an onion and started to peel it. "He's not one to be intimidated, mi cielo. The moment someone sniffs your weakness, they'll exploit it to their advantage, but that doesn't mean we won't take action."

"Action as in calling the police?"

"That was the first thing we did, and although my father hates the idea, I want him to have a security detail while they track down the one who sent the letter."

Rys's phone vibrated on the counter. "Speaking of," he said, glancing at the screen, "that's my friend Elio. Excuse me while I take the call."

He held the cell to his ear and left the room after I gave him an encouraging smile.

It was only natural for him to worry. I'd do the same in Rys's shoes. My thoughts drifted to the strained relationship Mom and I had, and bitterness seeped into them.

She wouldn't see my designs, but the out-of-my-league school in Italy would. If they didn't want me, I had enough for a plane ticket somewhere as far as Europe thanks to the fair, and some cash if I sold the designer stuff in my closet and the rest of my jewelry.

The newfound determination spiked me with adrenaline. Perhaps it was just a plan, but it was mine. I'd rather make a thousand mistakes and fail than stay stuck in the toxic cycle of agreeing with those who tried their hardest to prove my life didn't belong to me.

Rys's footfalls echoed in the silent kitchen. When I lifted my gaze to his, tension had vacated his expression, and the worried crease between his dark brows vanished.

"Did your friend calm you?" I asked.

A smile jotted across his lips. "You calm me. But Elio is a bodyguard, and he agreed to work with my father. I trust him, so that's the best news I could've received."

"How did Elio and you meet?"

Rys took the onion he'd peeled and placed it on the board. "Is that one of the questions from that stack of cards? Don't think I forgot."

I laughed, reaching for the game. "No. I haven't checked them, hoping it'd be a surprise."

"We went to school together." Rys sank the knife into the vegetable. "And we both planned to go to college, but only I did. Elio had it rough. It makes me happy to know he's okay now."

"Rough as in no money?"

"And shitty family circumstances. What about your best friend?"

A scoffing laugh broke free from deep within my chest. Rys's blue eyes rested on my face, and I sat on a stool across from him to give myself a moment to form words.

"The best friend who's been fucking my boyfriend for God knows how long?"

Rys slowly lowered the knife to the board and straightened, palms curled around the edge of the island. "Come again?"

"I have no clue how I know they've been screwing behind my back," I said. "I just do. I've never trusted my gut, but I guess I'm learning to now. Payton and I met at a summer camp. I went every year in middle school, but her mom could only afford to send her once. After that, my parents paid her fee so we could go together because she was my best friend.

"She was at my place more than she was at hers. We shared every milestone, no matter how tiny. I wanted to be like her, you know? Beautiful, confident, charismatic. People flocked to Payton, while I was more than happy to stay in the shade. The summer Brock asked me out, she was happy I finally had a boyfriend. I introduced them when we were back from the resort."

Rys trapped his bottom lip between his teeth as if restraining himself from saying something. "That's disgusting," he finally managed.

"I saw her pictures with his friends and called her out. That was what upset me the day you asked me to be with you."

"And she said you were wrong."

"More like, dramatic."

Rys shook his head. "Yeah, right. Should've expected that."

"Have you ever been cheated on?"

He started dicing the onion, and my eyes couldn't stray from his skilled hands. "Not as far as I know."

"Have you cheated?"

"No. I ended things when I knew my feelings weren't deep enough."

Rys turned on the stove and put a skillet on it. I fetched the deck of cards at the same time he poured olive oil into the pan. "They must be having lots of fun laughing at my stupidity behind my back."

"This stops right now." Rys pursed his lips, then exhaled slowly. "That sounded harsh, but you need to realize something. You're not responsible for others' lack of loyalty. You unknowingly trusted the wrong people, and they knowingly took advantage of that trust.

"He could've done you a favor and left you, mi cielo. So could she. She'd make space for real friendship, and he would've let you find true love. But they keep being in your life either because of a hidden agenda or because they don't care about each other beyond sex. Regardless of their motives, it's them, not you."

I pulled the cards out of the pack. "I've been told the fault is mine so many times I'm not sure I know how to see when it's not."

The oil sizzled. Rys tossed onion and garlic into it and reduced the heat. "It'll take time, but eventually you'll know. Come on, ask me one of those tricky questions."

As usual, he changed the topic just in time before sadness spoiled what I knew would be a magical evening.

"Okay. This one says, "What's your partner's favorite color?"

"What do you think?"

Rys pulled a bottle of wine out of a built-in wine fridge.

"Black and white," I said, taking in his white tee and black shorts. "You've got lots of white shirts and black pants."

He poured the burgundy liquid into two glasses and handed me mine. "Masseto Toscana. I thought it'd be perfect for tonight. And you guessed right."

I took a sip. The velvety texture and fruity aroma made me close my eyes in appreciation.

"Good?" Rys asked.

"Very."

"It's made from Merlot grapes. I bought it when I was in Tuscany last year."

Rys moved the mix of onion and garlic with a wooden spoon, drinking from his goblet. "Another question."

"Okay." I pulled out a card. "Your partner's most treasured childhood memory."

He left the glass on the island. "When my mom took me to the coast for the first time, and I saw the ocean. I stared at it for a good thirty minutes and thought nothing would ever compare. In a way, nothing ever did. Tell me yours."

I moved the glass in circles. The wine sloshed, sparkling in the last rays of sun. "The summers I spent with my grandparents, Dad's parents. They spoiled me rotten, and I could just play and be myself. They were older and died shortly after I turned twelve, though, and I was heartbroken."

"I also wish I'd spent more time with mine." Tenderness flooded Rys's gaze as he reached over and touched my glass with his. "It's a good thing memories stay with us forever. What about your mom's family?"

"She wasn't really close with her mom. I did meet her, but she lived across the country and the little time we shared while she was still alive didn't help us form a bond." And I sometimes wondered whether Mom's criticism and holding me to an impossibly high standard stemmed from her complicated relationship with her mother.

"That's a shame." Rys put the beef in the skillet and added dry oregano, basil, pepper, and salt to the mix. I watched him stir it for a few moments, then retrieved a card from the middle of the stack.

The question on it had me read the words again.

"What does it say?" Curiosity tinted Rys's tone.

"It says, "What's your partner's favorite sex position?""

Rys halted, a spoon in hand. "I think I love this game."

"Is that you trying to get out of answering?"

"I promised I'd answer everything. That was me hoping you'd tell me your favorite first."

Explicit images of Rys and me played like a movie in my mind. As much as I tried, I couldn't pick a favorite.

"That look on your face," Rys whispered. "Tell me what you were thinking about."

I downed the rest of my drink. "That I can't pick just one. Can you?"

"We still need to try some, but anything that allows me to see your face is my favorite."

"Why?"

"Because then I know it's real for you, too."

We fell quiet, our gazes anchored to each other. In a minute, Rys added crushed tomatoes to the skillet and stirred the sauce.

"Let's let it simmer," he said. "Come with me."

He walked over and wrapped his arms around my waist, helping me slide off the stool. I took the cards and put my hand in his as Rys headed to the adjacent dining room. "Dinner here and coffee on the patio?"

"Sounds amazing."

We kept playing as Rys set the table and lit some candles. He used to have a dog while a goldfish had been my only pet. Rys learned to cook when he turned eighteen and moved out of his parent's house to go to college, and loved all kinds of sports, but especially soccer and motorcycle racing.

The puzzle named Rys Delano still had lots of missing pieces, but with each question he answered, I got to know him a bit more.

"This one is serious," I said as Rys carried dishes of spaghetti bolognese into the room. "What's your partner's biggest fear?"

He put the food on the table. "That's deep. I'm afraid of lots of things. I guess losing my loved ones is the biggest fear."

"You could've said you fear nothing. A bonus game point for honesty."

"I doubt there's anyone who fears nothing," Rys said, sitting. "But you can live with the fear and not let it rule your life. Anything you're afraid of?"

"Spending another year like I spent the last four, but that won't happen if I can help it."

"That's my girl. Now, try the spaghetti. I need some external validation."

It was delicious. Rys smiled at my moans, and his grin widened when I asked for more. After eating, he made coffee, and we took mugs of cappuccino and plates with my favorite chocolate cake to the patio.

I curled into Rys's side on the loveseat as we enjoyed dessert. Once the mugs and plates were empty, he sprawled across the small couch and pulled me into his arms. "Come here."

I lay on top of him, my ear pressed to his chest.

"Did we run out of cards?" Rys asked, caressing my back.

"Mhmm."

"I expected more."

"More?" I mumbled.

He slid his hand down to my hip and ran his fingertips over the curve. "Yes. There's still so much I don't know about you."

I closed my eyes, soothed by the sounds of the ocean and Rys's steady heartbeat. "That's a lie, Rys. You know me better than anyone. And you like me anyway."

"That's kind of inevitable." Rys shifted and brushed his lips over my forehead. "Like the tide."

Rys and Lyra are back. Hope everyone's spring break was good. Mine was much-needed, too bad it ended so fast.

Thanks for sticking around, and please don't forget to show the story some love. Authors need external validation like Rys with his cooking because readers' reactions are the main reason we post.

Love,

A.