Christmas Day dawned sunny and cold on Gansett Island. A light dusting of snow overnight made the lawn sparkle in the morning sun. The sea was choppy and a deep, vivid blue. Erin never tired of the view from the lighthouse and wondered how she’d ever go back to living in an ordinary house after having lived here.

After a series of late nights, Slim was still asleep, so she snuck downstairs to make coffee and check her email.

Her body ached in areas that hadn’t ached in years, but it was a good kind of pain, the best kind. He was a creative, inventive lover who never ran out of ways to pleasure her. Erin’s head was spinning from four nights of sensual pleasure that had her rethinking everything about what she wanted from him.

She plugged in the tree lights, made coffee and took a steaming mug to her desk to fire up her laptop to check her email. Scrolling through the latest messages to her Ask Erin account, she found one message that captured her attention.

Dear Erin,

I’ve met a wonderful guy who makes me feel like a princess. I’ve never been with a guy who listens the way he does and seems to truly care about making me happy. So what’s my problem, you might ask. Well, thanks to all the frogs who came before him, I’m having a hard time believing my prince is for real. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and I’ll see who he really is. That’s how I think, and I fear I’m sabotaging the best thing to ever happen to me by saddling him with the sins of his predecessors. Maybe he is as great as he seems, and I’m the one who needs to stop being so cynical. How do I get past this dilemma before I ruin the best thing to ever happen to me?

Sincerely,

Beth

Wow, Erin thought, that strikes close to home. When writing the column, she often felt like a fraud since she hadn’t been in a real relationship in years. In lieu of actual experience, she tried to come at each situation from a practical standpoint. But this one got to the crux of her concerns about Slim. How could he possibly be as awesome as he seemed?

She kept waiting for him to be cranky or nasty or testy or anything other than his usual witty, charming self. Surely he couldn’t keep that up indefinitely, could he? It had been four days since the first time they slept together, and if anything, he’d only been more charming since then. He wasn’t like some guys who got what they wanted and seemed to lose interest. No, the more he got, the more interested he seemed to be.