Chapter 1: The Impulse

The champagne was giving Lexi a headache, or maybe it was the relentless chatter of two hundred wedding guests packed onto the marina deck like sardines in designer clothing. She pressed her fingers to her temples and tried to summon enthusiasm for Chloe's cousin's third wedding, but all she could manage was a grimace disguised as a smile.

"You look like you're plotting someone's murder," Chloe laughed, appearing at her elbow with Mae balanced on her hip. The five-year-old was sticky with cake frosting and beaming like she'd discovered the secret to eternal happiness.

"Just the bride's," Lexi muttered, then immediately softened when Mae giggled. "Kidding, sweetheart. Aunt Lexi's just tired."

"The dancing was too loud," Mae announced with the serious authority only a five-year-old could possess. "My ears didn't like it."

"Smart girl. Want to escape with me?" Lexi held out her arms, and Mae launched herself into them without hesitation. The familiar weight of her goddaughter settled something restless in Lexi's chest.

Chloe smoothed down her blonde hair, which had been whipped into a frenzy by the harbor breeze. "I should probably stay and do the social thing. Aunt Margaret keeps asking about my love life, and I'm running out of polite ways to change the subject."

"Tell her you're too busy raising a genius to date idiots," Lexi suggested, earning another giggle from Mae.

"That's what I said! But then she started listing eligible bachelors from her bridge club." Chloe shuddered dramatically. "Go get some air. You look like you're about to snap someone's head off."

Lexi was definitely considering it. The reception had been going for three hours, and she'd already endured seventeen conversations about when she was going to "settle down and find a nice man." As if finding a nice man was as simple as picking up milk at the grocery store.

"Come on, little bug," she whispered to Mae. "Let's find somewhere quiet."

They wandered away from the main reception area, past the clusters of guests spilling onto the dock. The marina stretched out before them, a forest of masts and rigging swaying gently in the evening breeze. The setting sun painted everything gold, and for the first time all day, Lexi felt like she could breathe.

Mae wriggled to be put down and immediately began investigating a coil of rope with the intensity of a marine biologist discovering a new species. Lexi leaned against the railing, letting the sounds of the party fade into background noise.

That's when she saw him.

He was standing at the far end of the dock, hands shoved deep in his pockets, staring out at the water with the kind of contemplative stillness that made her think of classical sculptures. Tall, broad-shouldered, with salt-and-pepper hair that caught the fading light. There was something about the set of his shoulders that spoke of quiet strength, and when he turned slightly, she caught a glimpse of kind, tired eyes.

Their gazes met across the marina, and Lexi felt something spark in her chest—surprise, recognition, a pull she couldn't quite name. He looked as trapped as she felt, as ready to escape the cheerful chaos behind them.

He started walking toward her, and she found herself straightening, suddenly hyperaware of her appearance. She'd chosen her outfit for comfort rather than impression—dark jeans, a soft gray sweater, boots that could handle a day on her feet. Her hair was doing whatever it wanted in the harbor breeze, and she probably had lipstick on her teeth.

"Seeking asylum too?" he asked when he reached them, his voice carrying a hint of amusement that transformed his tired features.

"From the matrimonial inquisition," Lexi confirmed. "You?"

"From well-meaning relatives who think my biological clock is ticking." He glanced down at Mae, who had abandoned the rope in favor of examining his shoelaces. "Though I suspect yours might have a more legitimate excuse for escape."

Mae looked up at him with the frank curiosity of childhood. "Are you sad?" she asked, tilting her head. "You look sad."

The man's expression softened in a way that made Lexi's chest tighten unexpectedly. "Just thinking, sweetheart. Sometimes grown-ups need quiet time to think."

"Like when Mama has her coffee in the morning and tells me to use my inside whisper?"

"Exactly like that."

Mae nodded sagely and returned to her investigation of the dock, apparently satisfied with this explanation.

"She's beautiful," he said quietly, and there was something wistful in his voice that made Lexi study his profile more carefully.

"My goddaughter," Lexi explained. "Mae. I'm Lexi."

"Zeke." He turned back to the water, and they stood in comfortable silence, watching the boats bob gently at their moorings.

The party noise seemed to be getting louder, or maybe Lexi was just getting more sensitive to it. Someone had convinced the DJ to play what sounded like a polka, and she could hear Aunt Margaret's distinctive cackle rising above the music.

"There's got to be somewhere quieter than this," she muttered.

Zeke glanced around, then nodded toward a sleek houseboat moored at the end of the dock. "That one looks empty. Probably belongs to someone at the wedding."

It was beautiful—all clean lines and polished wood, with soft lights glowing in the windows. Private. Peaceful. Everything the reception wasn't.

"We couldn't," Lexi said, but even as she said it, she was already calculating how long it would take to reach it.

"Just for a few minutes," Zeke said, and something in his voice suggested he needed the escape as much as she did. "Look, there's even a little deck area. Perfect for a tired five-year-old."

Mae had overheard and was already tugging on Lexi's hand. "Can we see the boat, Aunt Lexi? Please? I'll be super good."

Lexi looked at Zeke, at Mae's hopeful face, at the inviting sanctuary of the houseboat. Her practical side screamed warnings about trespassing and stranger danger, but her practical side had been ignored for most of the evening anyway.

"Just for a few minutes," she heard herself saying.

The houseboat was even more beautiful up close, all polished brass and gleaming wood. The deck was furnished with comfortable-looking chairs and a small table, and Mae immediately claimed one of the chairs as her throne.

"This is like a fairy tale boat," she announced, spinning in the chair. "Are there sea creatures living underneath?"

"Probably just fish," Zeke said, settling into the chair across from her. "Maybe some crabs."

Lexi remained standing, leaning against the railing and letting the evening breeze cool her flushed cheeks. The party felt like it was happening in another world now, the sounds muffled by distance and the gentle lapping of water against the hull.

"Better?" Zeke asked, and when she looked at him, she found him watching her with those kind, tired eyes.

"Much." She surprised herself by meaning it. "Thank you for the suggestion."

"Thank you for the company. I was starting to think I might have to swim back to shore to escape the festivities."

Mae giggled. "You can't swim in fancy clothes! You'd get all wet and soggy."

"You're absolutely right," Zeke said solemnly. "Much better to find a boat."

They talked as the sun continued its descent, easy conversation that flowed like they'd known each other for years instead of minutes. Mae provided commentary on everything from the seagulls to the way the water changed color, her chatter filling any potential awkward silences.

When Mae finally curled up in her chair, thumb finding its way to her mouth despite being five years old, Lexi felt a familiar surge of protective tenderness.

"Long day for her," she said softly.

"For all of us, I think." Zeke's voice was quiet, careful not to wake the drowsing child.

The lights of the marina had started to twinkle in the gathering dusk, and the party sounds had shifted to something slower, more romantic. Lexi found herself acutely aware of Zeke's presence, of the way the fading light caught the silver in his hair, of the patient gentleness in his hands as he adjusted a cushion behind Mae's sleeping form.

"We should probably head back," she said, but made no move to leave.

"Probably," he agreed, not moving either.

The boat rocked gently beneath them, a soothing rhythm that seemed to sync with her heartbeat. When had she last felt this peaceful? This... right?

Zeke was looking at her again, and there was something in his expression that made her breath catch. Not the predatory calculation she'd learned to recognize and avoid, but something warmer, more genuine. Like he was seeing her—really seeing her—and liked what he found.

"Lexi," he said softly, and her name sounded different in his voice. Special.

She moved closer without consciously deciding to, drawn by something she couldn't name and didn't want to analyze. When he reached for her hand, she let him take it, marveling at the way her fingers seemed to fit perfectly with his.

The first kiss was soft, questioning. The second was deeper, more certain. By the third, Lexi had forgotten why she'd ever thought this was a bad idea.

Mae slept peacefully in her chair as the adults lost themselves in each other, the gentle rocking of the boat and the distant sounds of celebration providing a dreamy soundtrack to their unexpected connection.

Later—much later—Lexi would wonder if she'd felt the boat's moorings beginning to give way, if some part of her had sensed the danger even as she surrendered to the impulse that would change everything.

But in that moment, wrapped in Zeke's arms as the stars began to appear overhead, all she felt was the sweet, terrifying pleasure of falling.