We stand there in silence for a few minutes. I can’t move my eyes from the piece of art, but Jack’s gaze flickers back and forth between me and the painting.

He breaks the spell first. “How about a swim?”

I nod, not sure I can form actual words right now. It’s a lot. Being here, in this room, seeing Jack’s parents, seeing the home he grew up in. This sliver of his soul. It all sits heavily on my chest, and I’m grateful when he ducks out to let me change, telling me he’ll meet me downstairs.

I finally rip my eyes from the painting, quickly changing into my suit and throwing a T-shirt dress over it. Sliding my feet into flip-flops, I pull my hair into a ponytail and head down the stairs.

Jack’s already waiting for me in just his suit, and I’m glad this isn’t the first time I’m seeing him shirtless, because the overload of feeling might push me into some kind of spontaneous combustion. He’s got two towels tucked under one arm. He reaches out the other, and I slide my hand into his.

I’m telling myself all this physical contact can be chalked up to the influx of emotions from being here, in this space, and Jack’s needing my care and friendship.

In reality, I just really like the way his hand wraps around mine. It’s protective and supportive, and the simple brush of his skin warms my entire body.

Jack tosses our towels on a lounge chair on the concrete patio in the back of the house. “You probably want to leave your shoes and dress here. Sometimes the tide comes up quick.”

I kick off my flip-flops and tug the dress over my head.

Jack’s eyes trace me from the tips of my toes up to the top of my messy ponytail, a warm smile heating his gaze.

But he doesn’t say anything, just offers his hand again, leading me down a small set of stone steps to the sandy beach. The beach itself is a thin strip of sand, not enough for lying out or picnicking, and given there’s only a couple of other houses nearby, it’s empty.

We wade in up to our waists, the water cold and a little biting, but the afternoon sun is still warm, and the chill helps shake me back to my senses. A little bit at least.

Jack left his glasses in the house, so for once my view of his eyes is completely unobstructed. I pay attention to the way they change color based on the topic at hand, like some kind of permanent mood ring.

For a while we chitchat about nothing. Bravo gossip, how business is going, whether Jack needs to upgrade to the latest edition of some video game thing.