Chapter 48 An Unforgettable Leave
KARA’S POV
The morning feels different the moment we step out of the resort lobby. The air smells of salt and sunlight, warm and promising, like the day itself has decided to be kind to us.
Waiting near the entrance is the man assigned for the activities Finnian booked. He looks to be in his mid-forties, sun-kissed skin and laugh lines carved deep around his mouth. A black rash guard clings to his frame, and a pair of diving goggles rest loosely around his neck.
He waves the moment he sees us.
“Good morning!” he greets cheerfully. “You must be Mr. Finnian and Miss Kara. I’m Alvin, your guide for today.”
Finnian shakes his hand easily. “Good morning, Alvin.”
Mr. Alvin gestures toward the shoreline where a small motorized boat rocks gently against the wooden dock. The water beneath it is impossibly clear, sunlight slicing through it like glass.
“Come,” he says with a friendly grin. “Perfect weather for island hopping today, you’re lucky.”
I glance around as we walk to the beach that is already alive.
Tourists laugh loudly near the shore. Some are swimming like children set free after a long confinement, splashing and chasing each other in the shallow water. Others lie under umbrellas with cocktails in their hands, the scent of sunscreen and coconut oil floating in the air. It feels vibrant and full of life.
Finnian’s hand finds the small of my back as we walk toward the boat, steady and warm. The gesture is simple, but it sends a quiet electricity down my spine. Once we step onto the boat, Mr. Alvin starts the engine with practiced ease.
“As we head out,” he says over the hum of the motor, “I’ll tell you a little story about this resort.”
Finnian leans back against the seat, one arm casually resting along the edge behind me.
“Sounds good,” he says.
Mr. Alvin chuckles.
“This place used to be a small fishing village, nothing fancy, and just a quiet community where people lived from the sea.”
The boat begins to glide over the water, leaving soft ripples behind.
“But about fifteen years ago,” he continues, “a foreign investor fell in love with this coastline. Instead of building a massive commercial resort, he kept the islands natural, protected the reefs, and hired locals.”
I watch the water sparkle beside us as Mr. Alvin continues.
“So what you see now,” he finishes proudly, “is still the same sea our fishermen grew up with.”
Finnian nods thoughtfully.
“That’s rare,” he says.
Mr. Alvin grins. “Exactly.”
I glance at Finnian. For a second, he looks different. Not like the intimidating man who can command a room without raising his voice, but someone quietly listening, and someone at peace. And the realization makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t understand.
The first island is breathtaking with white sand stretches like powdered sugar beneath our feet. Palm trees sway lazily in the wind as their shadows dance across the shore.
“Welcome to Heaven Corals,” Mr. Alvin announces.
We step off the boat, and the sand is warm under my feet.
“This island,” he explains, “is famous for snorkeling.”
Finnian turns to me, his eyes glinting with excitement.
“Ready?”
I laugh.
“Are you asking or challenging me?”
“Both.”
Minutes later, we’re already in the water. The ocean hugs my skin coolly as I dip beneath the surface and suddenly, the world changes. Corals bloom like underwater gardens, tiny fish flash in colors I didn’t even know existed with blues, yellows, neon oranges darting through the reef, but what surprises me most is Finnian because he never lets go of my hand even underwater. His fingers stay intertwined with mine, firm but gentle, like he’s making a silent promise.
When I resurface, pushing my wet hair back, I laugh breathlessly.
“That was beautiful.”
Finnian pulls his mask up to his forehead.
“Yeah,” he says.
But he isn’t looking at the ocean, instead he’s looking at me and something in his gaze makes my heart stutter.
Later, we move to the next activity which is the jet skiing. The machine bobs impatiently on the water as Finnian climbs onto the driver’s seat. At some point earlier, he removed his shirt for easier movement. And now, now it’s almost unfair. The sun kisses the tattoos that snake across his shoulders and back, the dark ink shifting like living artwork over golden skin, and muscles flex under every movement as he grips the handlebars. From behind, he looks almost unreal, like something sculpted instead of born.
“Stop staring,” he murmurs suddenly.
I blink.
“What?”
A slow grin spreads across his face as he glances over his shoulder.
“You’re staring.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
“I am not.”
He laughs softly.
“Get on, Kara.”
I climb behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. His skin is warm, solid, and alive.
“Hold tight,” he warns.
“Finnian—”
The jet ski roars to life and suddenly, we’re flying across the water. Wind starts slamming against my face as the machine slices through the waves and the ocean sprays around us like glittering rain. I scream not in fear, but in pure and reckless exhilaration.
“FINNIAN!”
He laughs loudly, the sound carried away by the wind.
“Still alive back there?”
“Barely!”
The jet ski jumps over a wave and I cling tighter to him, my laughter mixing with his. For a moment, nothing exists except this. The sea, the wind, and the warmth of him beneath my arms.
By the time we return to the boat, my hair is wet and my lungs hurt from laughing too much. Finnian helps me climb aboard as his hand is steady around my waist.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod breathlessly.
“That was insane.”
He smirks.
“You loved it.”
Mr. Alvin chuckles from the front of the boat.
“Most couples do.”
The word hangs in the air and Finnian doesn't react. But his hand lingers on mine a little longer than necessary and for reasons I can’t explain resulting for my heart to feel strangely full. Like this day and this ordinary- sunlit day has quietly become something I know I will never forget.