Turning to Stone (Heart of Stone: Book 2)

Epilogue: Paradise

Epilogue: Paradise

The sun was cresting above the horizon when I stepped onto the beach, vibrant ripples of orange and pink stretching across the Caribbean Ocean. Paradise. Maybe not for the turtles who verged on extinct, battling against poachers, pollution, and predators, but for me, fulfilling a lifelong dream, I'd found where I belonged.

"Hola, guapa." An arm wound around me from behind and salty lips grazed my cheek.

Paradise.

I leaned my head against Ed's solid chest, my fingers drifting over the leather bracelet resting on my stomach.

"How was your shift?" I asked.

"Good." Humid breath tickled my neck. "Tired now, though."

I smiled and tilted my head further back until my mouth brushed the sharp edge of his jaw. "Lightweight."

Ed's hold tightened around my stomach. "You can do the 3am shift tomorrow, then."

With a grin, I spun around and looped my arms over his shoulders. I sifted my fingers through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face. After three weeks away from home, it was longer than I'd ever seen it, flopping over his forehead, touching the tops of his ears. I liked it, but he found it annoying.

"Why don't you nap while I do my shift?" I suggested. "Then I'll cook you breakfast."

A wary eyebrow crept upwards. "Cook?"

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as I fought back a smile. Despite my efforts during our time here, I'd not yet managed to cook anything solo. My first attempt set off the smoke alarm, and when I tried to rectify my mistake on the second go, everything came out underdone.

"I've got a good feeling about today," I said. "Third time lucky."

He didn't look convinced.

"I also make a great bowl of cereal."

Ed's cheeks dimpled. Hands tightening around my hips, he drew me closer and pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

"Cereal sounds wonderful."

"Go get some rest." I pecked his lips.

"Pura vida, mi amor."

This time I couldn't hold back my smile. "Pura vida."

*

When I returned to the house after my shift, I found Ed on the balcony rather than in bed. Sat in the outdoor armchair, he had his feet up on the balcony wall and notebook propped against his thighs, nibbling on the end of his pen with a furrowed brow.

I sauntered over and slipped through the ajar door, shutting it after myself to keep the heat out.

"Did you manage to get some sleep?" I asked.

He didn't look up from his notebook. "Nah. Couldn't switch off."

Switching off had been an ongoing challenge for him. Lyrics constantly swirled through his head, and with no outlet for them, Ed remained attached to his notebook. During a normal day he'd either be singing or promoting or writing. Here he was doing none of that. And while his brain couldn't detach itself from the world of music, his heart didn't want to.

I loved that passion. The genuine pleasure he drew from his career. Singing wasn't just about fame and money for him; it was his life.

That's why it had surprised me when, two weeks into our holiday, he'd suggested we extend it to a month. I'd assumed he'd be itching to get back into the studio, but instead he seemed content to hide away with me. Long walks on the beach. Longer spells between the sheets. Shifts at the turtle refuge. It was time just to us.