Chapter 6 - The Midnight Escape
Inside the pavilion, the music swelled into a slow, romantic ballad as the reception began to wind down toward midnight. Couples drifted onto the dance floor, swaying under the canopy of twinkling fairy lights.
Claire looked back toward the tent doors, her expression turning slightly guarded. "I should probably go back inside. If I stay out here much longer, Julian will send a search party, and my father will start drafting legal briefs."
"Or," Ethan said quietly, his gaze locked onto hers, "you could escape."
Claire raised an eyebrow. "Escape? From a black-tie wedding where I'm the maid of honor?"
"Why not? You have your seating charts, your duties are officially over, and your so-called fiancé is currently inside plotting how to ruin my credit score. It’s the logical choice."
A slow, brilliant smile spread across Claire’s face. "You really are a logistics man, Ethan Walker. Always obsessed with the most efficient exit strategy."
"It’s a gift," he said, offering her his hand.
Without a word, Claire slipped her hand into his. Her fingers were warm, her grip firm and sure. Together, they bypassed the glass doors entirely, slipping down the wooden stairs of the deck and onto the pebbled shoreline path that wound away from the resort and toward the quiet, moonlit cliffs of Lake Michigan.
They walked in comfortable silence for twenty minutes, the sounds of the celebration fading completely behind them until the only noise was the gentle crunch of gravel under their shoes and the wash of the waves.
Claire kicked off her designer heels, carrying them in her left hand as they walked along the damp sand near the water's edge. The cool Michigan wind caught her dark hair, whipping stray strands across her face.
"So, logistics king," Claire asked, glancing sideways at him as they stopped near a large, weathered boulder overlooking the silver expanse of the lake. "What’s the grand master plan? Just walk down the beach until we hit Wisconsin?"
Ethan smiled, slipping off his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders. The fabric still held the warmth of his body, carrying a subtle scent of cedar and clean linen. Claire pulled it tighter around herself, her eyes softening.
"The plan," Ethan said softly, standing close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off her, "was simply to get you away from people who don't appreciate how you laugh."
Claire stopped walking. She looked up at him, the moonlight turning her eyes into pools of liquid shadow. "Nobody has ever said anything like that to me, Ethan."
"Then they were running a very poorly managed operation," he replied, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly murmur.
He reached out, his hand gently cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed across her cheekbone, and Claire’s breath hitched. She didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second before opening to meet his gaze with fierce, unyielding clarity.
May you like
When Ethan leaned down and kissed her, it wasn't hesitant or tentative. It was the sudden, inevitable collision of two worlds that had been misrouted by fate, finally arriving precisely where they were meant to be.
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