Offshore, the thick clouds are almost black with storm, rolling steadily closer. The water, which was aquamarine, is now a muddy grey, crashing against the sand in angry, white-capped waves. All the flags down the beach are red in warning, tugging at their poles as the wind whips them into a fury. This is crazy—quite possibly dangerous—but I don’t fucking care. I’m already drenched to the bone, my suit clinging to me, as I pound through the sand. The heavens above us pour down relentlessly. “Oh my god,” Tess shrieks. “Ryan, this dress weighs a thousand pounds—”
