Leah made her way across the patio as the caterers started the long, slow cleanup process, smiling at the tipsy laughter of some of the leftover guests.
As one would expect from the wedding of a former president’s daughter, the decor was both lavish and tasteful, with white candles covering every available surface, and the pale-pink-and-mint-green color scheme providing the perfect combination of timeless and trendy.
Alexis and her team had outdone themselves, but beautiful as the venue was, Leah was all too eager to get away from it. To have a chance to breathe.
Leah had opted for a tasteful black dress for the wedding, just dressy enough not to be distracting, but comfortable enough that she could move around easily. Her shoes were new—black wedge pumps that had seemed perfectly comfortable at the beginning of the evening.
Now? Not so much.
Leah paused on the last step leading down to the beach, kicking off her shoes and shoving them into her oversized bag before stepping onto the sand.
She let out an audible sigh of relief. Bliss. Pure bliss.
It was cliché, but Leah had always loved the sand between her toes, and it was a sensation she didn’t get nearly enough.
The Hamptons beaches were almost always crowded during the summer months, but at half past one in the morning, she nearly had the beach to herself, and she breathed in relief.
Inhaling the salty ocean air, Leah walked toward the water, stopping when she was close enough for the sound of the waves to drown out the sound of a nearby bonfire, but not so close that she’d get wet.
After double-checking to make sure her bag was all the way zipped to protect her camera from sand, she dropped down with a long sigh of relief at finally being off her feet.
Not caring in the least that her new, expensive dress was getting covered in sand, Leah stretched her legs forward, burying her toes before tilting her head up to the clear night sky.
It wasn’t a full moon. Not a crescent moon, either. Just sort of an odd part of the lunar cycle that gave the moon a strange, misshapen appearance, but that was okay. The night was still pretty close to perfect, if a bit lonely.
Reaching for the champagne, she removed the foil and twisted off the cork with a satisfying pop and hiss before she realized she’d forgotten a glass.
Leah shrugged. Oh well.
With nobody around to see or judge, she shamelessly tilted the bottle back to her lips and took a long, satisfying sip.
Alexis had splurged on the good stuff, and the crisp bubbly liquid felt like heaven on her tongue.
“Looks like you won’t be needing these after all.”
Leah whipped her head around, startled by the interruption. And even more startled to see two long-stemmed champagne flutes dangling from a masculine hand.
Even before her eyes trailed up the buff male body, Leah knew whose face she would see.
It was exactly the one she wanted to see, even as she’d been telling herself desperately that she didn’t.
“Hi,” she said quietly.
In response, Jason lowered himself to the sand beside her. He’d ditched his shoes as well, and while the dress pants rolled up should have looked goofy, instead he looked relaxed and wonderful. And sexy.
Leah longed to move her own calf so that it brushed against his. She didn’t, but it didn’t matter. The heat radiating off him nearly burned her anyway.
She wordlessly held out the champagne bottle to him, expecting him to pour the liquid into the two glasses he’d brought, but instead he set the flutes to the side and wrapped long fingers around the neck of the bottle. He held her eyes as he tilted the bottle to his lips.
She watched the motion greedily, feeling somehow thrilled by the fact that they were drinking from the same bottle. It was the casual intimacy that she missed most between them.
Well . . . that and the mind-blowing sex.
For long moments they said nothing. They watched the waves. They passed the champagne bottle back and forth. The first time their fingers brushed, Leah’s breath caught. The second time their fingers brushed, he lingered, the pads of his fingers rubbing along the length of hers in what could have been a careless touch. But the way her nipples tightened, the way she grew damp between her thighs . . . she knew there was nothing careless about it.
It was a caress—one she wanted.
They didn’t talk about the wedding. They didn’t need to, really. As photographers, they saw things other people didn’t, and knew that words would never be able to adequately describe the moments captured on their cameras, waiting to be brought to life in their respective studios.
Leah wasn’t sure how long they sat there in silence. The bottle got lighter and lighter, and her mind started to feel more and more sparkly, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the champagne or from Jason.
She didn’t overthink it.
For now, it was enough to sit in comfortable silence with someone who got her. They may have had their fights, their differences, their heartache, but in this moment there was nobody else she’d rather be with.